The "Pickles" Report

One Night of Hell…….

Twas All Hallows Eve and other than a Church, what better place is there to be than in the Pub playing skittles? Thus avoiding all those annoying little kids that kick footballs over the fence every summer evening, shout and scream at each other, then have the cheek to knock on your door all dressed up as little monsters expecting to be rewarded with sweets!!

On such a night it was only fitting that we were involved in a local derby against the newly promoted Perkins Village team from nearby Aylesbeare.

As we walked into the Legion, I nearly feinted, thought I’d seen a ghost. No, it really was Filthy, fresh from his sending to Coventry, with a beer in one hand and cigar in the other, he said had some catching up to do and had been there since dusk. 

But wait, we were one missing, body snatchers at work? Alas no, the lines of communication seemed again to have been cut at the throat, and hasty phone calls to establish Pistol’s whereabouts revealed that he had been mysteriously taken ill. Probably shot him self due to harassment of local trick or treater’s! This meant a baptism of fire for a young Deano, whose previous experience had only ever been at the dungeon end of the alley in the dark where nobody wanted to go. No worries though, last week The Sapling showed his Dad the way…….and I might add, was unlucky not to be selected this week. So what do you call a young Deano?? Ah of course a Deanette... A Deanette it is then.

Woody lost the toss, and the Villagers opted to bowl. Spooky that, because the same happened last week……and we lost then…..had a quick word with Damien who said he knew nothing of Omen’s.

A modest target of 55 was set, and Filthy, resuming at the head of the field, was out to banish the demons of having to work in recent weeks. Not the start we wanted, obviously a little rusty, but a steady 7. Jacko, with all the aggression of a werewolf in a full moon, and eager to throw down the gauntlet to Filthy for the lead off spot, saved his best till the second end with a magic spare. Young Deanette, bowled with all the maturity befitting his tender age, scored a six, a fine his dad would later be forced to pay. Up to the Alter stepped Woody, who bowled like Frankenstein’s monster. In fact the only other place I have heard four shouted with such regularity is on a golf course!! Once again it would be up to the Wagger’s to bail us out. DK, deploying a new style of standing to the left of the plate, kept us all guessing as to where he was aiming. Crystal Balls would have helped, but I don’t know how you get hold of them. Pickles was next in, and boy like a vampire was he out for blood from the start. Spared to 15 keeping the Wagger’s and team well on course. Albeit until Stevie G and Deano had a go. Just like the Brothers Grim, a pair of three’s meant a tie with the Topper’s who got away with murder and the leg was lost by one. A good second leg saw us take the lead and a Wagger win. Into the next, and Pickles obviously had not partaken of enough Holy Water as his spare Deano’d. By half way we had them by the Ghoulie’s, and a solid lead of seventeen. But that Devil May Care attitude started to creep in… and what was looking like two more points was quickly becoming a Hammer House of Horrors. As in the Texas Chainsaw Massacre we were cut down to size. Stevie G having earlier that night scored in a Liverpool win missed a single one for a spare, as did Woody. DK who does not believe in all that superstitious stuff just chewed on a clove of garlic all night and kept the stats up to date. As the sun started to rise, we were faced with a last end target of 63 to see good triumph over evil… you know what I mean. Filthy 6 and a fine, Jacko, 5 and two fines, Deanette 7, Woody 8, DK 8, Pickles 7, Stevie G 9, leaving Deano 13 to win it……yes, on this of all days 13…..how lucky can you be…

The Witches Cauldron of an atmosphere had developed, as his first ball left a line of three and a single on the left. Hold your breath, spare on…… and with such accuracy, as if like a silver bullet into the heart of the Count himself, they all went down……great cheers could be heard up to two miles away. Deano’s face was a picture, Edvard Munch’s The Scream. The horn was a hooting, and legend now has it, that broom sticks were seen flashing across the moonlit sky. So to the spare, four to win and to snatch the top score prize from Pickles….

A real Trick or Treat……. Down the alley it went, we held our breath….. Steady pace, nice line, looking good….. But OH NO!!……. D  E A N O…………..what a Pumpkin! 

Up jumped the Villagers a hollering’ and a cheering’, and the game was lost.

With such a to do, the Catering Team, despite their best efforts to improve the menu by buying the very best Ginsters Pasties and by adding French fries to the offering, managed to provide ‘burnt at  the steak pasty’ bases much to everyone’s displeasure. This was the sting or should I say trick for failing to treat us to a win.

Pickles who is making a habit of winning this year told Westerly he could make a full payment this month, and the Waggers took great pleasure in whitewashing the Toppers. Woody yet again was last, with a season lowest of 45.(Editor - In fact his lowest ever score since records began!)

So here’s to a big Cup game next week which should see some fireworks in Honiton.