Game of Groans
The ‘Bombers’ alliance
House Beckford (sigil: a wing and a microphone)
House Boyd (sigil: a small book of poetry in a large glass of beer)
House Hutcheson (sigil: plate of fried calamari next to a Hawkes Bay chardonnay)
House Tomuri (sigil: face of a man with no mouth)
House Carruthers (sigil: a bald man wearing 5 pairs of trousers)
House Ragg (sigil: the word ‘cunt’ written many times to form the shape of a cock)
House Simmonds (sigil: stents in arteries in the shape of a stick-man)
House Ridley-Smith (sigil: lone worm separated from another group of worms)
House Morgan (sigil: A crucified football player)
House Bruce (sigil: A blind fish)
The ‘Waterside’ alliance
All from House Karori (sigil: a turtle fucking an old woman)
“Winter is coming” someone had announced as if it was the prophecy of the century rather than something happened every time autumn had ended. In fact winter was here, being mid-July and all that. The morning dawned clear and cold and alliances were about to come to fruition. The great houses of Wellington and beyond were about to gather and meet on the battlefield. Blood would flow, guts would be spilled but friendships maintained. In the game of groans you win…or you don’t win.
House Beckford had assembled the best army they could muster. Of course ‘best’ is a relative term and while this army was better when compared to the ground floor of the Malvina Major retirement resort, it was a close call. Noticeably absent were House O’Donovan (sigil: a man in a hammock) and House Marshland (sigil: a stethoscope wrapped around a salmon fillet) were missing. Wankers.
The sun shone of the battle field. House Bombers (HB) rested on the bank. House Waterside (HW) warmed up with drills and passing. The classic David/Goliath battle awaited. HW had superior numbers, weaponry, strength, skill, height and probably cock size to boot. HB had a bare eleven, a youngest player of 47 and an average age of somewhere around the mid-50s. Beaten up in a previous battle and undermanned HB didn’t stand a chance. But HB had beaten the odds before (the great 8 and ½ who stood tall at Hutt raceway was legendary) and the future is always unwritten so why can’t HB write the version that suits them? King AG gives a stirring pre-battle speech. “Let’s have fun out there”. He possibly lost all respect at that point.
The rope-a-dope tactic is employed. Let them come at HB and tire them out, defend like crazy and land the knock-out punch when they least expect. The plan worked like a charm until the battle actually started.
Wave after wave of attack came from HW. Yet HW were repelled time after time and there was frustration and tiredness setting in. The bad news was the while HW were frustrated the aforementioned tiredness was coming from HB. HW landed a significant blow to go 1-0 up and King AG had injured himself selflessly trying to repel the invaders. Most of HB were too tired to give a shit about how King AG was. But as the Japanese quote goes “fall down 7 times, stand up 8”. That quote was to be more prophetic than HB imagined.
The battle took a break for what was called ‘half-time’. King AG rallied the troops, telling his warriors they were fighting the best he’d seen them fight in a long time. Some HB warriors were inspired by this speech. Others secretly thought “that was the best we could do and we are sure as shit are going to be worse in the second half. We are truly fucked”.
The second half kicked off. History is replete of glorious battles won against the odds. Armies hanging on and then at the last minute reinforcements show up and vanquish the attacking army. So… as HB was tiring House Marshland appears! But wait….he’s not preparing for battle. Clothed as a civilian he stands by the HB final line of defence and just laughs as goal after goal is inflicted on HB. He didn’t even drink with the team afterwards. What a cunt.
This was no remarkable fight. This was an army lacking in everything except the thought that surely it must end soon. And end it did. 7-0. HB did fall down 7 times. But they stood up the 8th time. They took their beaten and bruised bodies to the pub where, in the way a right back stands on the corner post and lets the ball go under his foot, House Boyd orders a jug of awful beer.
“You know nothing John Boyd” thinks House Hutcheson.
Epilogue – House ratings
House Beckford – King AG 5/10. Carried on even under the cloud of injury. Was really good until the opposition started shooting at him. Prince Nintendo 7/10. Gave his all but his all wasn’t enough. He needs to give more than his all.
House Boyd 4/10. Saved a goal on the post, then let one in. Had dizzy spells. Tried to boost his performance with 3 glasses of Rose before the game. Possibly the source of the dizzy spells. Ordered shit beer at the Pub. He will be back. Just watch him.
House Hutcheson 5/10. Played out of position. Couldn’t pass the ball to save himself. Gets one more point than House Boyd because he’s writing this and wants to be better.
House Tomuri 6/10 Solid as usual. I want to see him get angry.
House Carruthers 2/10. Not sure if touched the ball much and 3 marks off for football fashion faux pas.
House Ragg 5/10. First half was poor. Panicked when passed the ball at left back. Second half much better at right back. Aggressive and full of running. Best of the two right backs on the day.
House Simmonds 8/10 Loved Stent Boy’s work. Great player. (My favourite player and I hope I get a good room at his house in November at the BBB)
House Ridley-Smith 7/10 Not his old self but had beer for after the game. Two bonus points for that.
House Morgan 7/10. Ran and ran until he fell over. This actually happened.
House Bruce 4/10. They should change their sigil to a chicken with its head cut off.