(2nd grade One Day Grand Final '04-05', Western Districts V's North Canberra, Majura Oval)
This all I remember.. 1 run needed, 1 wicket in hand and 1 ball to be delivered. Jack Scaz at the top of his mark wiping the sweat from his brow while I'm Scratching a hole in the ground with my spikes at mid off quietly hoping the comes nowhere near me so I'm not the one to blame if we lose.. Scaz turns at the top of his mark and approaches the crease with the same gusto as he had all day.
Brad Morgan at the wicket batting at number 11 but with the strut of a first dropper, scaz hits the bowling crease and sends down a fullish offering, Morgan backing his freakish batting talents unleashes his hands at the ball.. At mid off a pensive M Wheatley is relieved to see the ball flying comfortably over his head.. Then it hit me.. Fuck I can probably get to that, all I can hear in the distance is skipper cosgrove screaming 'WHEATERS, WHEATERS!!' and then there was silence....
I settled myself under the ball for what seemed like an eternity, the clouds were dark and grey and all i could see was a silouette of the pill, My intention was to get my hands as high above my head as possible so if I fumble it I'll have a second grab at it.. All the while a million excuses are running through my head that I'm rehearsing to tell my team mates for when I shell the chance!!
As The ball makes it's way down I put up my hands and feel the impact and squint my eyes as it hits.. I open my eyes and out of pure relief the ball is thankfully still in my grasp!!
I have never been so happy to see ten other blokes running to give me a hug.
At the end of the day as I'm quietly changing nappies in the change rooms robbo says 'ay Wheats, I'm glad you took that fucken catch ovawise you weren't fucken comin' home wiv us!!'
All I could think was 'Thanks Morgs"
Saturday, 11 June 2011
Friday, 10 June 2011
Super coach
John (Super Coach) Cheadle
John Cheadle loves cricket training, infact he lives for it.. whether you see John at Aranda or Manuka, theres a certain aura about him you can tell he's really alive.. If only he had the same enthusiasm for toilet training..
Early last year when Cheads was on the prowl women scattered everywhere when he hit the nightclub scene, backing himself as somewhat of a silver tongue John began working his magic with the ladies at the bar abley accompanied by few lip loosening amber ales, imagine the big guys excitement when his 'chat' was appreciated by a lonely interstate traveller who was looking for someone cuddly to keep her warm the night.
He whisked his catch away from the bar and took her back to the 3 and half star hotel room she was staying in.. so exausted was the super coach after strutting his stuff he hit the sack unable to 'peform' after possibly one too many lip looseners before his lady friend had the opportunity to get down to his members end and face a couple balls!!
Cheads drifted off to sleep dreaming of fielding drills and net sessions.
Taking his friends request to keep her warm a little too seriously John soaked the mattress in the bodies second warmest fluid..
Being the gentleman he is, John collected his belongings ordered a cab before his mistress awoke.. leaving a pineapple on the bedside table to cover the dry cleaning.
John Cheadle... 'Cant root, Can wet the bed!!'
John Cheadle loves cricket training, infact he lives for it.. whether you see John at Aranda or Manuka, theres a certain aura about him you can tell he's really alive.. If only he had the same enthusiasm for toilet training..
Early last year when Cheads was on the prowl women scattered everywhere when he hit the nightclub scene, backing himself as somewhat of a silver tongue John began working his magic with the ladies at the bar abley accompanied by few lip loosening amber ales, imagine the big guys excitement when his 'chat' was appreciated by a lonely interstate traveller who was looking for someone cuddly to keep her warm the night.
He whisked his catch away from the bar and took her back to the 3 and half star hotel room she was staying in.. so exausted was the super coach after strutting his stuff he hit the sack unable to 'peform' after possibly one too many lip looseners before his lady friend had the opportunity to get down to his members end and face a couple balls!!
Cheads drifted off to sleep dreaming of fielding drills and net sessions.
Taking his friends request to keep her warm a little too seriously John soaked the mattress in the bodies second warmest fluid..
Being the gentleman he is, John collected his belongings ordered a cab before his mistress awoke.. leaving a pineapple on the bedside table to cover the dry cleaning.
John Cheadle... 'Cant root, Can wet the bed!!'
Captain (Dutch) Courageous
Captain dutch Courageous!!
Oaks has often been heard around the club boasting of his ability to handle his squirt, claiming his ability to stick on the amber all night while the rest of us pussies hit the variety of postmix beverages allows him to stay the distance longer than the rest of us therefore making him a man of higher pedigree.
Handling his drink wasnt the only thing Oaks claimed this year.. he also claimed to be the fastest man over 100 yard dash, so eager was he to win this title he practised at every opportunity , one such session took place after a big night out with Bush and fellow sprinter Adam Hewitt....The back seat of the cab was the startline and bushy the start gun and when he said "GO" they all opened a cab door and bolted in differing directions, Oaks was quickly at full tilt.. Dreaming of a first place Benny could see the finish tape ahead and with one arm outstretched Usain Bolt style smashed across the line.. sadly for Ben there was no tape, only a barbed wire fence which threatened to split our opening bowler through the core.
Anyhow, I digress..
So it was somewhat of a suprise when In early March of this season when we tearfully farewelled our Irish leprechaun Stuey Poynter how his night unfolded.. after the men of the club downed numerous beers while the boys drank their vodka raspberries from the get go we headed to Mooseheads for one last rendevous for our red headed little friend.
Mooseheads being a famous setting for many a brown jacket nomination much was expected from this event... even Ajay Mehta joined us for his first night out on the town in decades.. the last time Ajay was in Civic ICBM was the Private bin, beers cost 50 cents and tongue & groove was something you did in a back alley after mindnight..
Handling his beer with great integrity for the night things were soon going to slide down a slippery path.. as the clock struck 3 oaks' mood was swinging more than his outswinger .. when out of weary eyes he spotted two Northies players.. for those in the know Oaks has more form shaping up to these lads than Lester Ellis after a bottle of scotch..
He was once seen giving Bruce Mikellson bowling advice suggesting his skills may be better suited in the Major Leagues!!
After much bravado and chest thumping between the two, club heavy weight ' Matt Wheatley' stepped inbetween to break up the scuffle. Oaks was then directed by the bouncer out the front doors and towards the taxi rank.
Arriving back at his humble abode in Casey Ben topped off the night showing us all just how to handle your grog by projectiling quicker than his short ball all over his bed linen and floor!!
Nominee no. 4 .. Is Captain Courageous!!
Oaks has often been heard around the club boasting of his ability to handle his squirt, claiming his ability to stick on the amber all night while the rest of us pussies hit the variety of postmix beverages allows him to stay the distance longer than the rest of us therefore making him a man of higher pedigree.
Handling his drink wasnt the only thing Oaks claimed this year.. he also claimed to be the fastest man over 100 yard dash, so eager was he to win this title he practised at every opportunity , one such session took place after a big night out with Bush and fellow sprinter Adam Hewitt....The back seat of the cab was the startline and bushy the start gun and when he said "GO" they all opened a cab door and bolted in differing directions, Oaks was quickly at full tilt.. Dreaming of a first place Benny could see the finish tape ahead and with one arm outstretched Usain Bolt style smashed across the line.. sadly for Ben there was no tape, only a barbed wire fence which threatened to split our opening bowler through the core.
Anyhow, I digress..
So it was somewhat of a suprise when In early March of this season when we tearfully farewelled our Irish leprechaun Stuey Poynter how his night unfolded.. after the men of the club downed numerous beers while the boys drank their vodka raspberries from the get go we headed to Mooseheads for one last rendevous for our red headed little friend.
Mooseheads being a famous setting for many a brown jacket nomination much was expected from this event... even Ajay Mehta joined us for his first night out on the town in decades.. the last time Ajay was in Civic ICBM was the Private bin, beers cost 50 cents and tongue & groove was something you did in a back alley after mindnight..
Handling his beer with great integrity for the night things were soon going to slide down a slippery path.. as the clock struck 3 oaks' mood was swinging more than his outswinger .. when out of weary eyes he spotted two Northies players.. for those in the know Oaks has more form shaping up to these lads than Lester Ellis after a bottle of scotch..
He was once seen giving Bruce Mikellson bowling advice suggesting his skills may be better suited in the Major Leagues!!
After much bravado and chest thumping between the two, club heavy weight ' Matt Wheatley' stepped inbetween to break up the scuffle. Oaks was then directed by the bouncer out the front doors and towards the taxi rank.
Arriving back at his humble abode in Casey Ben topped off the night showing us all just how to handle your grog by projectiling quicker than his short ball all over his bed linen and floor!!
Nominee no. 4 .. Is Captain Courageous!!
Pinching a loaf
David Spare
Pinching a loaf, laying cable and drowning the Jackson Five... these phrases all resonate strongly for our next nominee.. for when nature calls David Spare is all ears!!
Anyone fortunate enough to have met David knows by now that Sparey and Poo go hand in hand, sometimes unfortunately for him... quite literally. David has been with us only a few short seasons but has already had numerous fecal related incidents during his tenure.
but it is not cricket exclusive.. clearly David has a track record for when the Spares were having drainage issues with the household royal doulton sanctions were imposed on him by Father Spare who insisted that his first born was to immediately cease use of the facility until further notice.. Mumma Spare provided David with a bucket to make do with, along with a hand full of sorbent.
When feeling a turtles head making its exit Davids routine would kick in to gear... urgently collecting his supplies and making way for the tranquility of the family backyard, upon completion of the task our favourite incontinence sufferer would find the nearest storm water drainage and flush Cosby kids down the stream.
It doesnt end there.. when David started the first day of what he hoped would be a long and prosperous career with the regions local rag, the Canberra Times.. he had another call of nature, and this time she called at full roar!!
David excused himself from his work station and feverishly made a beeline for the nearest 'Throne'.. After snapping off one of his finest efforts to date David tidied himself.. satisfied with his efforts David took one final look at his handy work before hitting the flush button.. satisfaction soon turned to dismay when Sparey realised this was one turd that wasnt going down without a fight!!
Many options went through Davids head in the following minutes but having been witnessed by many of his new colleagues using the toilets he knew he couldnt walk out leaving this 'floater'
Given to a lack of tools at his disposal, Sparey covered his big right mit in as much toilet paper as possible and guided the stubborn log round the S bend.
Needless to say David ate left handed for the duration of his employment.
Last and not least..
David spent an evening on good chums Jordan Smith front lawn after a night of heavy drinking.. not wanting to wake up the Smiths with his voilent chunder, he decided the best place to make his delivery was next to Smiths letter box.. When questioned about his suprise package next to the mailbox Mr Smith simply replied 'Im just glad it wasnt a poo!!'
Nominee number two ... Is David Spare!!
Pinching a loaf, laying cable and drowning the Jackson Five... these phrases all resonate strongly for our next nominee.. for when nature calls David Spare is all ears!!
Anyone fortunate enough to have met David knows by now that Sparey and Poo go hand in hand, sometimes unfortunately for him... quite literally. David has been with us only a few short seasons but has already had numerous fecal related incidents during his tenure.
but it is not cricket exclusive.. clearly David has a track record for when the Spares were having drainage issues with the household royal doulton sanctions were imposed on him by Father Spare who insisted that his first born was to immediately cease use of the facility until further notice.. Mumma Spare provided David with a bucket to make do with, along with a hand full of sorbent.
When feeling a turtles head making its exit Davids routine would kick in to gear... urgently collecting his supplies and making way for the tranquility of the family backyard, upon completion of the task our favourite incontinence sufferer would find the nearest storm water drainage and flush Cosby kids down the stream.
It doesnt end there.. when David started the first day of what he hoped would be a long and prosperous career with the regions local rag, the Canberra Times.. he had another call of nature, and this time she called at full roar!!
David excused himself from his work station and feverishly made a beeline for the nearest 'Throne'.. After snapping off one of his finest efforts to date David tidied himself.. satisfied with his efforts David took one final look at his handy work before hitting the flush button.. satisfaction soon turned to dismay when Sparey realised this was one turd that wasnt going down without a fight!!
Many options went through Davids head in the following minutes but having been witnessed by many of his new colleagues using the toilets he knew he couldnt walk out leaving this 'floater'
Given to a lack of tools at his disposal, Sparey covered his big right mit in as much toilet paper as possible and guided the stubborn log round the S bend.
Needless to say David ate left handed for the duration of his employment.
Last and not least..
David spent an evening on good chums Jordan Smith front lawn after a night of heavy drinking.. not wanting to wake up the Smiths with his voilent chunder, he decided the best place to make his delivery was next to Smiths letter box.. When questioned about his suprise package next to the mailbox Mr Smith simply replied 'Im just glad it wasnt a poo!!'
Nominee number two ... Is David Spare!!
Puddles
In February of 2010 the club had its annual battle of the wits at the Southern Cross Wests facility.... The night was hosted successfully by Alan 'Sale of the century' Copeland and Mathew 'Who wants to be a millioaire' McGann.. with newly appointed Doctor in Sportsology David Mann's table, taking the spoils.
It was decided that in the true tradition of the the club, what better way to celebrate a night accumulating brain matter, then by destroying it all with a night on the piss!!
Upon conclusion of the formalities, a collection of the Wests faithful gathered in the foyer in preparation for their weekly meeting at Moose Heads nightclub and bar.
After the majority of players managed to negotiate their way past the Moose Heads security team, captained this year by Lote Turquiri.... we were well on our way to acheiving our goal.
After the intial stages of the evening went off without incident, the night was going to take a swift change of direction for one young man..
Enter Jayson Bush ..
After pestering his mate working the bar relentlessly in the pursuit of cheap bevvies for 45 minutes 'Puddles', decided it was time to take a much needed pit stop.... after an unforseen navigational issue however, Jayson unexpectedly reappeared on the ground floor taking his much needed comfort break in the sanctity and serenity of the Mooseheads main bar.
After being turfed out the front door by big Lote in what many believe was a deliberate high tackle.. Puddles, mistaking his send off for only 10 minutes in the Bin thought with fresh change of guernsey he could make his way back onto the field of play unnoticed.
After being repelled once again by big Lote.. Puddles was last seen making his way down Northbourne Avenue arm in arm with close mate and confidant Todd Carney..
Brown Jacket Candidate #1
Jayson Bush.
It was decided that in the true tradition of the the club, what better way to celebrate a night accumulating brain matter, then by destroying it all with a night on the piss!!
Upon conclusion of the formalities, a collection of the Wests faithful gathered in the foyer in preparation for their weekly meeting at Moose Heads nightclub and bar.
After the majority of players managed to negotiate their way past the Moose Heads security team, captained this year by Lote Turquiri.... we were well on our way to acheiving our goal.
After the intial stages of the evening went off without incident, the night was going to take a swift change of direction for one young man..
Enter Jayson Bush ..
After pestering his mate working the bar relentlessly in the pursuit of cheap bevvies for 45 minutes 'Puddles', decided it was time to take a much needed pit stop.... after an unforseen navigational issue however, Jayson unexpectedly reappeared on the ground floor taking his much needed comfort break in the sanctity and serenity of the Mooseheads main bar.
After being turfed out the front door by big Lote in what many believe was a deliberate high tackle.. Puddles, mistaking his send off for only 10 minutes in the Bin thought with fresh change of guernsey he could make his way back onto the field of play unnoticed.
After being repelled once again by big Lote.. Puddles was last seen making his way down Northbourne Avenue arm in arm with close mate and confidant Todd Carney..
Brown Jacket Candidate #1
Jayson Bush.
Reverse Puma
Nominee: Dwane Hall
Age: 31 (Old enough to know better)
Nominated by: Peter McKell
Seconded by: Matthew Wheatley
On a warm sunny day in early November, Darty decided to grace us with his presence on the cricket field for his first outing of the season. All was travelling well with a brisk jog around the perimeter of the boundary followed by a light stretch and a succession of gentle catches to warm the hands up for the action that lay ahead...
The coin fell correctly for fill in skipper and well known tosser Matt McGann (See. Brown Jacket winner season '98/99') and we decided to put ANU in for a stick, Dwanes first day in the field was spent aclimatising to the rough patches in the point region and rolling the arm over with deceptive pace off a short run..
After the break Dwane was scheduled to bat in the stroke makers role at number 5. On resumption of putting on the pads on for the first time in over half a year Dwane known for his witty humour but also a general vagueness, realised the the required protection for his genitals was no longer in its allocated spot. As panic and then reality set in Darts decided that improvisation was his only saviour... Upon inspection of the remainer of his cricket gear he spotted in the deep dark depths of his cricket coffin a stray, sweaty but most importantly lonesome glove..
He applied the glove to the appropriate area in what now known as the 'reverse puma' postion, which requires the badge of the glove pointing forwards with the leather palm cupped towards the body and the pre-curved fingers pointing down and then shaping upwards for a comfortable nestling resting point.
At the fall of the 3rd wicket, dwane applied the velcro to his helmet and all 3 gloves and made his way out to the middle in reasonable comfort... his comfort was short lasting however when in pursuit of a sharp single to get himself off the mark caught him by suprise when errant middle finger protection made its way into what is supposed to be a one way crevace..
After a quick relocation of the glove and refastening of the velcro Darty continued with his innings mostly unaffected.
He also believes with a little redesign the new protection could prove a real advantage, especially for those who enjoys the comfort of leather on flesh!!
Brown Jacket Candidate #2
Age: 31 (Old enough to know better)
Nominated by: Peter McKell
Seconded by: Matthew Wheatley
On a warm sunny day in early November, Darty decided to grace us with his presence on the cricket field for his first outing of the season. All was travelling well with a brisk jog around the perimeter of the boundary followed by a light stretch and a succession of gentle catches to warm the hands up for the action that lay ahead...
The coin fell correctly for fill in skipper and well known tosser Matt McGann (See. Brown Jacket winner season '98/99') and we decided to put ANU in for a stick, Dwanes first day in the field was spent aclimatising to the rough patches in the point region and rolling the arm over with deceptive pace off a short run..
After the break Dwane was scheduled to bat in the stroke makers role at number 5. On resumption of putting on the pads on for the first time in over half a year Dwane known for his witty humour but also a general vagueness, realised the the required protection for his genitals was no longer in its allocated spot. As panic and then reality set in Darts decided that improvisation was his only saviour... Upon inspection of the remainer of his cricket gear he spotted in the deep dark depths of his cricket coffin a stray, sweaty but most importantly lonesome glove..
He applied the glove to the appropriate area in what now known as the 'reverse puma' postion, which requires the badge of the glove pointing forwards with the leather palm cupped towards the body and the pre-curved fingers pointing down and then shaping upwards for a comfortable nestling resting point.
At the fall of the 3rd wicket, dwane applied the velcro to his helmet and all 3 gloves and made his way out to the middle in reasonable comfort... his comfort was short lasting however when in pursuit of a sharp single to get himself off the mark caught him by suprise when errant middle finger protection made its way into what is supposed to be a one way crevace..
After a quick relocation of the glove and refastening of the velcro Darty continued with his innings mostly unaffected.
He also believes with a little redesign the new protection could prove a real advantage, especially for those who enjoys the comfort of leather on flesh!!
Brown Jacket Candidate #2
No Jamie Oliver (Brown Jacket nomination 1 of 2)
There has been a lot of conjecture in the media and various sources this week about my ability or lack there of in a kitchen setting.. I would just like to clear up a few things....
Yes I did set fire to my parents house
Yes I did shit myself
and Yes I do deserve a brown jacket nomination.
But I would like to re tell the story as I saw it.
On July 28 of this year I celebrated my 27th Birthday, after work I attended my duties at the AIS Stregnth and Conditioning facility bowling express pace to Ryan Carters to assist David Mann with his research on the effects of blur on batting performance.
Upon completion of my efforts I bid farewell to my fellow seamers Peter (One spell) McKell and Dylan (Mack Truck) Mackie. I was to be greeted at home by a chicken roast prepared lovingly by my brother in celebration of my acheivement of longevity to date.
Arriving at the Wheatley residence I quickly became aware there was to be no chicken roast, after surveying the premise I was able to tell that my brother had infact passed out and I was left to my own devices. I decided due to convenience that hot chips would be the order of the day, a decision which I would later come to regret.
For optimal results it was suggested to cook the potatoe fries in oil for 2-3 minutes at 168 degrees celcius... heating the oil I vacated the kitchen for a brief moment when I returned I noticed the oil was sizzling and decided I should remove the pan from the heat which created a blaze.... being the only human being on the face of the planet not to know that water is not the cure for an oil fire I made my way to the sink.
After the intial burst of water from the tap created a fireball effect on the pan a summation was made that perhaps not enough water was used in my first attempt after my second and lengthier spray from the tap it was clear I had a problem on my hand. The issue was raised with the local fire department with the phone conversation playing out as such:
*Bring ring*
*Bring ring*
*Bring ring* At which point I thought 'if this was a murder attempt I'd be dead by now'.
*Bring ring* Finally an answer..
Triple 0 attendant: Hello emergency services, do you require Police, ambulance or fire brigade?
Wheats: Hi, Ive just set the kitchen on fire please send help!!
Triple 0 attendant: Sorry SIR but DO YOU require PO-LICE, AM-BU-LANCE or the FIRE BRI-GADE!?
Wheats: WELL MAM, Ive just set my parents KIT-CHEN on FI-RE so I thought it would be pretty F-cking obvious but if you dont hurrry up Im going to need an AM-BU-LANCE as well!!
At this point I ventured outside to wake my brother out of his self imposed coma, after shaking him violently for 20 seconds I quietly raised the set of circumstances which had taken place upstairs saying 'THE FUCKING KITCHEN IS ON FIRE, WHAT SHOULD I DO!?' His reply was equally as calm 'Have you called the Firebrigade?' before rolling over and returning to his deep slumber.
After a brief inspection the Fireys vacated the premise deeming it safe and in working order.
I decided that these things should best be dealt with as soon as possible, so I rang my father, generally known at the more reasonable and relaxed gaurdian. However, much to my shagrin my Mother answered the telephone, the conversation went a little like this:
Mrs Wheats: Hello
Wheats: Ah hi, is Dad there?
Mrs Wheats: No he's at the shops what do you want?
Wheats:Um can you get him to give me a call when he gets back?
Sensing the anxiety in my tone she probed further
Mrs Wheats: Why, whats up?
Wheats:Nothing, nothing, just get him to give me a call back when he gets home.
Mrs Wheats: Ok, Bye.
My father soon returned my call and I explained what had happened, he seem slightly detered but handle the situation well under duress. Ten minutes later I recieved another call, this one not so pleasant.
Mrs Wheats: WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO MY KITCHEN?
Wheats: I had an accident
Mrs Wheats: GOOD ON YOU, YOU FUCKWIT I LEAVE YOU HOME FOR ONE WEEK AND YOU BURN DOWN MY KITCHEN!!
Wheats: I didnt mean to do it, thats why its called an accident
Mrs Wheats: WELL GOOD ON YOU YOU JUST RUINED MY HOLIDAY.
Wheats: Yeah thats what I meant to do, I thought you know what for my 27th birthday I shall celebrate by burning my parents house down.
As it is now... the kitchen is as good a new after a couple of coats of 'Taubmans' finest.
Regards
Matthew Wheatley
Brown Jacket Candidate #1
Yes I did set fire to my parents house
Yes I did shit myself
and Yes I do deserve a brown jacket nomination.
But I would like to re tell the story as I saw it.
On July 28 of this year I celebrated my 27th Birthday, after work I attended my duties at the AIS Stregnth and Conditioning facility bowling express pace to Ryan Carters to assist David Mann with his research on the effects of blur on batting performance.
Upon completion of my efforts I bid farewell to my fellow seamers Peter (One spell) McKell and Dylan (Mack Truck) Mackie. I was to be greeted at home by a chicken roast prepared lovingly by my brother in celebration of my acheivement of longevity to date.
Arriving at the Wheatley residence I quickly became aware there was to be no chicken roast, after surveying the premise I was able to tell that my brother had infact passed out and I was left to my own devices. I decided due to convenience that hot chips would be the order of the day, a decision which I would later come to regret.
For optimal results it was suggested to cook the potatoe fries in oil for 2-3 minutes at 168 degrees celcius... heating the oil I vacated the kitchen for a brief moment when I returned I noticed the oil was sizzling and decided I should remove the pan from the heat which created a blaze.... being the only human being on the face of the planet not to know that water is not the cure for an oil fire I made my way to the sink.
After the intial burst of water from the tap created a fireball effect on the pan a summation was made that perhaps not enough water was used in my first attempt after my second and lengthier spray from the tap it was clear I had a problem on my hand. The issue was raised with the local fire department with the phone conversation playing out as such:
*Bring ring*
*Bring ring*
*Bring ring* At which point I thought 'if this was a murder attempt I'd be dead by now'.
*Bring ring* Finally an answer..
Triple 0 attendant: Hello emergency services, do you require Police, ambulance or fire brigade?
Wheats: Hi, Ive just set the kitchen on fire please send help!!
Triple 0 attendant: Sorry SIR but DO YOU require PO-LICE, AM-BU-LANCE or the FIRE BRI-GADE!?
Wheats: WELL MAM, Ive just set my parents KIT-CHEN on FI-RE so I thought it would be pretty F-cking obvious but if you dont hurrry up Im going to need an AM-BU-LANCE as well!!
At this point I ventured outside to wake my brother out of his self imposed coma, after shaking him violently for 20 seconds I quietly raised the set of circumstances which had taken place upstairs saying 'THE FUCKING KITCHEN IS ON FIRE, WHAT SHOULD I DO!?' His reply was equally as calm 'Have you called the Firebrigade?' before rolling over and returning to his deep slumber.
After a brief inspection the Fireys vacated the premise deeming it safe and in working order.
I decided that these things should best be dealt with as soon as possible, so I rang my father, generally known at the more reasonable and relaxed gaurdian. However, much to my shagrin my Mother answered the telephone, the conversation went a little like this:
Mrs Wheats: Hello
Wheats: Ah hi, is Dad there?
Mrs Wheats: No he's at the shops what do you want?
Wheats:Um can you get him to give me a call when he gets back?
Sensing the anxiety in my tone she probed further
Mrs Wheats: Why, whats up?
Wheats:Nothing, nothing, just get him to give me a call back when he gets home.
Mrs Wheats: Ok, Bye.
My father soon returned my call and I explained what had happened, he seem slightly detered but handle the situation well under duress. Ten minutes later I recieved another call, this one not so pleasant.
Mrs Wheats: WHAT THE FUCK HAVE YOU DONE TO MY KITCHEN?
Wheats: I had an accident
Mrs Wheats: GOOD ON YOU, YOU FUCKWIT I LEAVE YOU HOME FOR ONE WEEK AND YOU BURN DOWN MY KITCHEN!!
Wheats: I didnt mean to do it, thats why its called an accident
Mrs Wheats: WELL GOOD ON YOU YOU JUST RUINED MY HOLIDAY.
Wheats: Yeah thats what I meant to do, I thought you know what for my 27th birthday I shall celebrate by burning my parents house down.
As it is now... the kitchen is as good a new after a couple of coats of 'Taubmans' finest.
Regards
Matthew Wheatley
Brown Jacket Candidate #1
Imapling..(True if somewhat over embellished story of my brown jacket year)
In February of 2009, the faithful entourage of Benjamin Manfred Keens joined him in St Kilda Melbourne to farewell one of the games all time greatest wingmen!!
Having recently made the move to Melbourne from Canberra, I considered myself somewhat of a local and made the journey from the quiet coastal suburb of Altona to the hip and happening surrounds of St Kilda beach.
For the opening session, we decided to strap on the pads and knock the froth of a couple of the local brews at the Esplanade (ESPY) hotel and bar. In an enjoyable but largely uneventful evening we returned to our place of rest with moderate levels of intoxication. Arriving back at the safety of our hotel, it became apparent that our swipe card was not allowing us to gain access through the front gate. After breif negotiations with the friendly staff at the St Kilda Best and Western a replacement and functional card was forth coming.
Waking the following day, we made our way to the freshly mown greens of the St Kilda lawn bowls club for a spot of bowls. In an attempt to get back at the dog that bit us, we indulged in a hair of the dog, infact a couple hairs of the dog. After sending down a few jack highs and more then a few Carlton Draughts, maturely and somewhat uncharacteristically I headed back to the sheds for a tactical kip before an evening of entertainment hosted by the hospitable and scantily clad temptresses of the Mens Gallery!!
Falling in to a deep and blissful slumber, I rose from my nap refreshed at 9 oclock.... the following day.
Giving myself every opportunity to make it through the long day ahead I waited a good two hours and rehydrated with a few spring waters before joining my fellow travellers in a few Saturday Sippers. Having a night of rest that would make sleeping beauty envious, I rated my chances highly of being in the lead pack at the end of a drinking marathon.
After admiring the 'chicken' that paraded itself down the main thoroughfare from the comfort of the St Kilda RSL, we once again returned to HQ. Admiring one chicken too many from the hotel balcony, Redman raised the feathers of the young 'hens' 'cock' otherwise known as her boyfriend. Bravely and selflessly I left the safety of the group to secure 'Slamin' Sam Makeham and my own hotel room, only to be confronted in the hallway by this nasty 'cock'.
Surviving the attack a night out at the casino was on the 'cards', dodging the crowds and manic gamblers I followed Prunne Diddy and junior Keens, Danny around the black jack tables.
After handing over my hard earned to the smiling assasins working the table, I made my way back to the ST Kilda RSL to save my mates from a prowling seductress. A stunning 24 year old double divorcee had attached herself to the group and was spinning her web of charms in the direction of a few of the studlier men in the team.
When she sat next to the 'buck' instinct took over and I immediately jumped between the two proclaiming 'not on my watch Luv!!' Clearly misjudging the situation, I sheepishly excused myself from the table and focused my weary mind on nipple crippling possibly the angriest man on tour and group Alpha male David Jess.
Obviously lacking appreciation for my sign of affection I copped a Mike Tyson like upper cut to the sternum area and collapsed on the table in a crumbling mess, I miraculously recovered just minutes later to shout the bar bourbon & cokes and clearly not satisfied by my stint at the casino hit up the pokie machines.
UnexplainablyI was cut off from the bar I decided to make my way home with wallet, keys and a pocket full of one dollar coins intact, none of which were mine.
After the previous difficulties in the opening session of the weekend with the gate entrance, I once again found myself having issue's entering the premise.. Not taking into account the relative sobriety of the opening stanza compared to the final session, I attempted climbing the fence with all the skill of a Bear Grylls scaling a rock face.
Attempting to enter my shelter I found that the entry door was also blocked this time, after stumbling and muttering to myself at my great misfortune I took a few steps back observing the scene in more detail this time before realising much to my shagrin I was at the wrong hotel!!
Realising the hurdle infront of me Id tackled just a matter of minutes ago I again summonsed the strength to climb this massive everest.. it was incredible just how much that fence seemed to grow in just a few minutes.
Placing one foot on the gutter and using a technique Id learnt from my great friends in the Special Forcess I threw my other leg over the fence whilst placing my hands either side of myself. In a situation like this it is key to give yourself a mental cue to assist at the moment of exertion, using the tried and tested method I began....
I offered my sincerest praise and gratitude to the firey's swift response commenting 'Wow you guys were quick, were you just around the corner?'. To which they replied 'Mate, you been passed out for the last 35 minutes.' In genuine shock I thanked the couple who flanked me either side for saving my life.
Still in severe pain I pleaded with them to get me off the fence, the gents informed me that they would be cutting me out of the fence and the offending paling would be coming with us still imbeded. I was swiftly escorted to the ambulance and asked if I would like the benifit of a pain killing agent, namely morphine and replied with resounding 'FUCK YES!!'
As the morphine infiltrated my veins I went from suffering a severe case of Mehta-itis (whinging, whineing and generally being a pain in the arse) to worlds happiest and charming man even attempting to pick up the nurses by my side despite my situation.
I spent 5 hours in Accident and Emergency vigorously declining requests by hospital staff to call a team mates to notify them of my wear abouts, repeating the line 'Have you not heard of the Brown Jacket!? I ve already burnt down my parents fucking kitchen!!'
After a snooze I finally succumb and answered a phone call from the man with worlds juiciest plumbs, Jeff Clark..
A 24 hour wait was required to give my body time to rid itself of the toxins on board before I could have surgery only for my to lungs collapse.. I woke up coughing blood and was read my death rights but told because of my exceptional fitness and healthy lifestyle I was a chance of pulling through.. I nearly died from shock there and then.
I could see the bright light rapidly approaching.. when in the distance I heard a firm yet feminine voice and with a gentle shake of the arm, my eyes snapped open to my delight I saw what every man dreams about when theyre lucky enough to make it to the 'Intensive Care Unit' .. The "Hot Nurse". 'Was this it?' I thought.. 'Had I made it to Heaven!?'
I hadnt, but It was enough to make a man teetering on the edge fight, to give a man quickly deminishing the desire to live another day. Gradually.. hour by hour, day by day I fought my way back to health.
Sitting there a wounded warrior a thought traversed its way through my mind, as I lay there comparing the physical qualites of my Mrs at the time with the 'Hot Nurse' I contemplated (possibly under the influence of heavy medication) the suggestion of an indecent proposal.. but in a moment of clarity, thought the better of it.
My next few days were filled with the joys of day time television including the phenomenal programing of channel 10's trifecta of Spongebob Squarepants, Ellen Degeneres and Bold and the Beautiful.
By the fifth day I felt like I had returned to my infancy when my first steps were met with unbridled joy by those responsible for my care, this excitment was only surpassed the following day when the news broke around the ward of my first stool for the best part of a week.
That was the worst of it and now all I have to show is a scar visible in shorts so small they make Warwick Capper squirm but when people do see it one day I can say " Ah, let me tell you a story about when a good mate of mine decided to get married at the end of season '08-09'."
Having recently made the move to Melbourne from Canberra, I considered myself somewhat of a local and made the journey from the quiet coastal suburb of Altona to the hip and happening surrounds of St Kilda beach.
For the opening session, we decided to strap on the pads and knock the froth of a couple of the local brews at the Esplanade (ESPY) hotel and bar. In an enjoyable but largely uneventful evening we returned to our place of rest with moderate levels of intoxication. Arriving back at the safety of our hotel, it became apparent that our swipe card was not allowing us to gain access through the front gate. After breif negotiations with the friendly staff at the St Kilda Best and Western a replacement and functional card was forth coming.
Waking the following day, we made our way to the freshly mown greens of the St Kilda lawn bowls club for a spot of bowls. In an attempt to get back at the dog that bit us, we indulged in a hair of the dog, infact a couple hairs of the dog. After sending down a few jack highs and more then a few Carlton Draughts, maturely and somewhat uncharacteristically I headed back to the sheds for a tactical kip before an evening of entertainment hosted by the hospitable and scantily clad temptresses of the Mens Gallery!!
Falling in to a deep and blissful slumber, I rose from my nap refreshed at 9 oclock.... the following day.
Giving myself every opportunity to make it through the long day ahead I waited a good two hours and rehydrated with a few spring waters before joining my fellow travellers in a few Saturday Sippers. Having a night of rest that would make sleeping beauty envious, I rated my chances highly of being in the lead pack at the end of a drinking marathon.
After admiring the 'chicken' that paraded itself down the main thoroughfare from the comfort of the St Kilda RSL, we once again returned to HQ. Admiring one chicken too many from the hotel balcony, Redman raised the feathers of the young 'hens' 'cock' otherwise known as her boyfriend. Bravely and selflessly I left the safety of the group to secure 'Slamin' Sam Makeham and my own hotel room, only to be confronted in the hallway by this nasty 'cock'.
Surviving the attack a night out at the casino was on the 'cards', dodging the crowds and manic gamblers I followed Prunne Diddy and junior Keens, Danny around the black jack tables.
After handing over my hard earned to the smiling assasins working the table, I made my way back to the ST Kilda RSL to save my mates from a prowling seductress. A stunning 24 year old double divorcee had attached herself to the group and was spinning her web of charms in the direction of a few of the studlier men in the team.
When she sat next to the 'buck' instinct took over and I immediately jumped between the two proclaiming 'not on my watch Luv!!' Clearly misjudging the situation, I sheepishly excused myself from the table and focused my weary mind on nipple crippling possibly the angriest man on tour and group Alpha male David Jess.
Obviously lacking appreciation for my sign of affection I copped a Mike Tyson like upper cut to the sternum area and collapsed on the table in a crumbling mess, I miraculously recovered just minutes later to shout the bar bourbon & cokes and clearly not satisfied by my stint at the casino hit up the pokie machines.
UnexplainablyI was cut off from the bar I decided to make my way home with wallet, keys and a pocket full of one dollar coins intact, none of which were mine.
After the previous difficulties in the opening session of the weekend with the gate entrance, I once again found myself having issue's entering the premise.. Not taking into account the relative sobriety of the opening stanza compared to the final session, I attempted climbing the fence with all the skill of a Bear Grylls scaling a rock face.
Attempting to enter my shelter I found that the entry door was also blocked this time, after stumbling and muttering to myself at my great misfortune I took a few steps back observing the scene in more detail this time before realising much to my shagrin I was at the wrong hotel!!
Realising the hurdle infront of me Id tackled just a matter of minutes ago I again summonsed the strength to climb this massive everest.. it was incredible just how much that fence seemed to grow in just a few minutes.
Placing one foot on the gutter and using a technique Id learnt from my great friends in the Special Forcess I threw my other leg over the fence whilst placing my hands either side of myself. In a situation like this it is key to give yourself a mental cue to assist at the moment of exertion, using the tried and tested method I began....
 |
| This is photo is not actually of me.. but you get the idea!! |
' And a 1 ..and a 2.. and a 3' before attempting to launch myself over the fence. 'WEVE GOT A BLEEDER!!' I can now say unequivocally, I fully understand what it feels like to be a cheap ST Kilda hooker after copping a full 6 inches between the legs or my specifically through the leg.
I would like to say I took the hit like a man....however, in my anguish and in a tone normally reserved for soprano's I stated my predicament at full raor to the local neighbourhood calling for assistance. Closing my eyes for a moment I opened them and much to my relief saw a familar and common theme throughout my brown jacket quinella, the fire brigade.I offered my sincerest praise and gratitude to the firey's swift response commenting 'Wow you guys were quick, were you just around the corner?'. To which they replied 'Mate, you been passed out for the last 35 minutes.' In genuine shock I thanked the couple who flanked me either side for saving my life.
Still in severe pain I pleaded with them to get me off the fence, the gents informed me that they would be cutting me out of the fence and the offending paling would be coming with us still imbeded. I was swiftly escorted to the ambulance and asked if I would like the benifit of a pain killing agent, namely morphine and replied with resounding 'FUCK YES!!'
As the morphine infiltrated my veins I went from suffering a severe case of Mehta-itis (whinging, whineing and generally being a pain in the arse) to worlds happiest and charming man even attempting to pick up the nurses by my side despite my situation.
I spent 5 hours in Accident and Emergency vigorously declining requests by hospital staff to call a team mates to notify them of my wear abouts, repeating the line 'Have you not heard of the Brown Jacket!? I ve already burnt down my parents fucking kitchen!!'
After a snooze I finally succumb and answered a phone call from the man with worlds juiciest plumbs, Jeff Clark..
A 24 hour wait was required to give my body time to rid itself of the toxins on board before I could have surgery only for my to lungs collapse.. I woke up coughing blood and was read my death rights but told because of my exceptional fitness and healthy lifestyle I was a chance of pulling through.. I nearly died from shock there and then.
I could see the bright light rapidly approaching.. when in the distance I heard a firm yet feminine voice and with a gentle shake of the arm, my eyes snapped open to my delight I saw what every man dreams about when theyre lucky enough to make it to the 'Intensive Care Unit' .. The "Hot Nurse". 'Was this it?' I thought.. 'Had I made it to Heaven!?'
I hadnt, but It was enough to make a man teetering on the edge fight, to give a man quickly deminishing the desire to live another day. Gradually.. hour by hour, day by day I fought my way back to health.
Sitting there a wounded warrior a thought traversed its way through my mind, as I lay there comparing the physical qualites of my Mrs at the time with the 'Hot Nurse' I contemplated (possibly under the influence of heavy medication) the suggestion of an indecent proposal.. but in a moment of clarity, thought the better of it.
My next few days were filled with the joys of day time television including the phenomenal programing of channel 10's trifecta of Spongebob Squarepants, Ellen Degeneres and Bold and the Beautiful.
By the fifth day I felt like I had returned to my infancy when my first steps were met with unbridled joy by those responsible for my care, this excitment was only surpassed the following day when the news broke around the ward of my first stool for the best part of a week.
That was the worst of it and now all I have to show is a scar visible in shorts so small they make Warwick Capper squirm but when people do see it one day I can say " Ah, let me tell you a story about when a good mate of mine decided to get married at the end of season '08-09'."
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