Many years ago in an office in Harefield one Monday morning a heated conversation was going on between a few good friends of mine about the sporting events of the weekend.
There were references to the reports published in The Super Soar-away Sun, The Mirror and the Sunday Sport. Yes, that’s how long ago it was. They were talking about Queens Park Rangers, West Ham and one other team that eludes me at the time of writing.
Anyway, I walked past on my way to the coffee machine, momentarily turning my head towards the conversation, perhaps with some notion of joining in the debate. I like a good heated debate. However, before I could engage Sniffer caught my eye and said. “This is all about kickball Jooce, you wouldn’t understand.” Which raised a good chortle among the assembly owing to the fact that he was absolutely right.
It still rankles me to this day. So, in an endeavour to learn a little more about kickball, it’s triumphs and disasters; ambassadors and impostors I am writing this blog and using my interest in cooking to instill some understanding of the beautiful game into my memory using synaesthesia.
No one likes us, no one likes us
No one likes us, we don’t care!
We are Kickball, super Kickball
We are Kickball from the web!