ANNOYED!

Steve  Deadmoney

Prologue:

Im getting grumpy in my old age. I have mentioned this in previous reports, but its only just dawned on me exactly how many things can irritate a miserable old bastard such as myself. No, I didnt get a call to appear on Grumpy Old Men (not yet anyway). And by now you must surely all be aware that the Victor Meldrew character in the forthcoming remake of the One Foot In The Grave series has already been taken - another case of type-casting for Graham... Actually, as The Coroner, he ought to be appearing in 6 Feet Under - his character just isnt fucked up enough yet.  No, it was all much more mundane than that.

As usual, despite being out of the points and the moolah yet again after last nights game, yours truly got volunteered to write the report. The other Dogs simply havent learnt to how to type, whereas I have a paw-friendly keyboard. So, Im sat here with a few basic notes about the game, and a completely blank sheet on my screen (to mirror the activity in my brain). Slowly (very slowly) it came to me - these reports are nothing more than my chosen vehicle to vent my annoyance at the multitude of irritants that life throws at us all.

Spam, supermarket shopping, junk mail, people who cant park within the big white lines when spaces are at a premium, the Royal Mail delivery times lottery, pop-up windows, pop-up relatives, and anyone that has all day to get where they are going to, but not even an inkling of awareness that others are behind them. These are just a few of the things that put the Grate back into Britain. And thats just for starters.

Only this week I bought a temporarily-delicious cherry and coconut flapjack with the warning: MAY CONTAIN NUT TRACES. Well, luckily, I dont have a nut allergy. Unless you want to count Joe Pasquale, Tom Green, and the woman who lives opposite me, all of whom make me feel almost fatally nauseous. And if you are reading this you old cow, it was me that kidnapped your garden gnome and replaced his fishing rod with 10” of Rotating Black Mamba (batteries not included). One all!

So, the flapjack. Ingesting traces of nut I was prepared for. No quibble from me. What I did find just ever-so-slightly bothersome was the cherry stone that I nearly broke my tooth on, half choked on, and almost swallowed. Which would indicate that I have a problem with commitment, whereas The Natural Health Company clearly have a problem defining the word health. At least to the satisfaction of my doctor. Luckily, The Coroner was untroubled.

I also get annoyed that I am so easily annoyed - its a vicious circle and I still have this report to write... quick, spark me up another spliff before I explode! Lets see, a couple of big breaths - yes, thats much better. Thank you Jordan, you can go now. I feel confident that I can get a few more lines done, but then I really must do the rest of this report.

OK - poker. Yes! We did play a bit. Chez Baz - a Dogs-only event, but it was just the 9 of us. We speculated that Pete The Slag was either, a) sleeping off his birthday celebrations, or b) sleeping with his birthday celebrations - whoever they may be. Unlike Pete, the rest of us werent entertaining any guests - we were all trying to get some league points in the sack - plus the cash of course.

Act I:

It was an action-packed evening - just dont expect me to remember much of it. No, I havent got Alzheimers yet (I've forgotten how old you have to be before they call it that instead of Stoner Syndrome) - instead, I just went on tilt at the drop of a hat. I started well enough, played reasonably tight, and began accumulating. Then I threw a paddy trying to establish who had put in what amount of chips, before huffily going all-in. Getting old and tetchy can be a bitch - especially for the other players that have to put up with it. Although I won that hand, Deadmoney had signalled to all his intent to live up to his name.

There were quite a few interesting hands, the best of which belonged to Quads Marty, whose pocket KK did indeed become four of a kind. So, Marty is now officially King of the Quads. Lindz on the other hand had A7 suited, and is now a staunch republican. The very first post-freeze-out hand was a corker too. Pre-flop, Phil raised 1800 (3x big blind) with his AQs, only to be met with an all-in re-raise from Baz (5800), who showed pocket KK when Phil called. The flop was (in order) A, Q, K. Phil watched as he went from being behind to the lead - hitting top pair, 2 pairs, and then having it taken back again as Baz hit trip Ks. The turn was another Q – Phil now had a boat QQQAA, but Baz had the better house with KKKQQ.

Phil went out in 8^th after tangling with our host again, narrowly escaping the Walk Of Shame that Dave had to take when he was first out. Dave - you had a shit day at work, got no cards all night, and went home early. You have no idea how envious we all were by the end of the evening... To be equitable, I think we should also introduce the Winners Waltz, or maybe even the Bad Beat Boogie. That might stop a bit of whingeing! Out 7^th was Lindz, and yours truly was 6^th after G inflicted a fatal blow. He eventually called my big raise - I had a pocket pair (black 7s), and G hit an over-card on the river. Next out was Graham himself, losing with those same black 7s. You have to laugh, dont you Graham? No? Well, I chuckled... more details later.

This weeks bubble was Baz, leaving Marty lowstack against Andy and Adam for the money. King Marty sent forth his armies to find some rabbits to pull out of his crown, but there were no survivors of The Rabbit Crusades (which is why youve never heard of them before). Heads up - one hand only - all-in called. Andy must have thought he was home and dry - dominating Adams A6 with AJ. But the 6 was the only pair at the end, and Adam had the cash and moved to within a point of the League leadership.

Act II:

So, what else had put me on tilt? A random pile of chips had started it - but I cant go round being annoyed at inert objects. I need to blame someone, not something. Potential scapegoats were all around, but who could I pick on? Adam had only claimed to have the proverbial fucking monster about 30 times - far less than usual. On one hand, Lindz had wooed her way from behind to decimate my chips, but thats hardly an unusual occurrence. Baz, Marty, Phil, Andy and Dave may all have inflicted bad beats or bullied their opponents - but I cant recall being on the end of any of those antics. Which leaves... Graham.

It was my own fault. I put him all-in with those black 7s I was holding. Graham had a decision to make. We all sat waiting. And waiting. He knew it was on him. We knew that he knew it. We reminded him that it was on him, and he reminded us that he knew. None of which helped to improve the decision-making process. Inside Grahams head, the grey cells had all gathered on the fence, and were trying to decide which way to go. Call or fold? Behind or ahead? The answer was coming to us - with all the speed of Rick Waller finishing a marathon. And I dont mean the chocolate bar...

The reason was that in Gs mind it was less call or fold, more do I cut the red wire or cut the blue wire? He had cast himself in the lead role, and was ready for his close-up. His brow really ought to have been sweating for a truly realistic effect, but this wasnt a gritty British production - it was pure Hollywood. The furrows on this Dogs forehead became that deep he could have been mistaken for a Shar-Pei.

A few minutes passed - his eyes were transfixed on the pot. He toyed with his chips - a lot (not the chips, the toying). He put them down again. Graham got reminded again that it was on him. He knew. He told us he knew - completely deadpan, and without averting his eyes from their steely gaze for even a nano-second. Im glad he did - I was wondering whether he had stopped breathing...

Then it started. Elbow on the table, he began running his left hand very firmly but oh-so-slowly through his hair. Was a decision about to be announced? Was it buggery! The hand moved round from the back of his head to cover his mouth, and he sagely rubbed his jaw. We waited some more. We gave up reminding him, and started wondering which of Hollywoods finest would be there at the Oscars with him.

In one swift move, his right elbow also went to the table, as both hands were clasped to his face. He couldnt bear to look any more. The rest of us couldnt bear to wait any more. Oh the humanity! The piss was taken. Graham didnt flinch. I looked around at the others - they all had beards, except Lindz, who had just popped down to the Post Office to collect her pension.

Suddenly, we saw his hands were moving. Drawn up over his face, through his hair, and coming to rest locked together at the back of his head. He couldnt hide it any longer - angst was written all over his face. I wanted to write something else on his face with a big permanent marker, but I couldnt risk that it might break the spell and have him start the torture all over again. There was an air of expectation as he leaned back - the ether was charged with enough electricity to run a small African village for a year. In my head, the soundtrack had just got to DUN - DUN - DUNNNNNNNNN! But inside Gs head an angel and the devil continued to repeat their arguments ad nauseum.

Movement! G sat forward - this was it! Here we go! He picked up his cards as if to justify his impending decision, and then I just knew he was about to speak. Yes! Here it comes...

The only thing Im worried about is if Steves got aces...

You what?  You - fucking - WHHHHHHHAT??!!!??**!!???!!

Pocket kings? And you've kept us all waiting longer than British Rail on a Sunday at a branch-line station with leaves on the track during a drivers strike? Longer even than I would have waited for Keira Knightley to answer whether or not the proverbial blow-job was indeed out of the question?

Epilogue:

The shit hit the fan, and we all pointed it at Graham. Bombarded with crap, incredulity and ridicule, he finally relented. The implied KK turned out to be an excuse - merely a ruse in case he chose to fold. Which he didnt. He called with KQ suited, and hit his Q on the river. Well, it doesnt pay to rush these things....

Coming  to  the  West  End  this  Autumn!

BRITAINS  LONGEST  RUNNING  COMEDY!

(The Guinness Book Of  Tedium)

Graham Birch

STARS  in

THE  CORONERS  VERDICT

OR

ITS  MURDER ,  ISNT  IT?

A one-man, three hour show in which there is virtually no dialogue. Birch plays schizophrenic coroner, Dr. I. Mindy Cissive (Ph.UK InUrry Upp.) who has to make a choice that will result in either the death his friend, or himself. During this theatrical master-class, even Birch cannot be sure of the outcome, and he runs the full gamut of emotions from indecision to slightly pained indecision.

Freed from the constraints of any kind of script, Birch fuses movement and performance to convey his tragic internal dichotomy, whilst simultaneously rising above the pressures of public expectation, etiquette, the voices in his head and the baying of a heckling crowd. The rich terrain of the 2 available expressions he has to be mined gives the pretence of slight mental activity, whilst he simultaneously subverts the maelstrom of emotions impacting his audience.

Just when you have written it off as a fully-realised exercise in self-indulgence, our hero / villain finally puts everyone out of their misery. As the coroner helplessly watches his decision inflict fatal blows to his (by now, former) friend, the protagonist is beautifully ignorant of the fact that death is at this stage, a merciful and very welcome escape for all.

Runs forever – and then some.

Critical acclaim:

Re-unites the country against a common enemy (Rt. Hon. Tony Bliar, MP & PM)

Bring back the Birch! (The Governor, HM Prison Reading)

This show will run and run – so should you! (Mail On Sunday)

A seemingly guaranteed cure for insomnia (British Medical Council)

Disappointing – just the one tit (The Sun)

Dont miss! (MI5 instructions to all armed personnel)

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See you next week, G. Must go, the phones ringing...

Steve...   hello...      

Yes...

Yes, that’s right...

Certainly. Its spelt T-A-Z-E-R...