A typical view of badminton, delicate and gentle
Anyway I was sat in watching the One Show last night, probably a habit I picked up on the back of Strictly Come Dancing, due to the lovely Irish presenter. It was a particularly random show as one of the Bee Gee’s was on talking about 50 years of said band. During the show they went back to his old room in Manchester, and there is a keyboard in the corner of the room, so the Bee Gee says ‘the keyboard wasn’t in there when I was growing up’ and the present replies, ‘That’s a bit of luck you would have been in your room playing with your organ all day…’
Anyway I couldn’t stop laughing for five minutes after that, so you can imagine that later that evening when someone asked where the cock was, I nearly wet myself. Not as much as the receptionist of the sports centre was when I asked for a badminton bat!
Now I don’t think I had gone through puberty fully when I last played badminton. I was obviously fitter back then, as I had assumed that it was a sport for girls. To a certain extent it had a similarity to hop-scotch in that only the girls present seemed to understand the scoring system and who should be serving. To say that I spent an hour blindly chasing a cock around probably isn’t the best thing to admit to but that is what it seemed like.
My worry that girls would be better than boys at this sport was quickly confirmed when one of my opponents started to fire the cock at my head with startling accuracy. I then remember that this particular girl was just as deadly with snowballs, and start to realise why there is a route in Vivian quarry named after her! So after a few direct hits my reactions sharpened up and I manage to dodge the cock in a matrix style, with the whoosh of the cock as it narrowly misses my ear.
Now by the end of the first game I was a sweaty mess, by the end of the hour I had fallen on my arse about 20 times, inadvertently attempted to do the splits five times, and well and truly had my arse beaten by a bunch of girls hitting a cock at me. The best thing was every time you miss, fall on your arse or do something else stupid, everybody can have a laugh at your expense. To that end I hope that the people I played against got good value out of me, as half the time my racket appear to have a gapping hole in the strings.
Now that should be the end of the story, but after a night sleep I feel that I have been sodomised by an entire commando platoon, and then beaten savagely by a bunch of pigmy horses. Why does playing badminton, make you hurt so much? It is meant to be good for you!
The true badminton, aggressive and hard hitting!