Egg chasers and so forth!

For what now seems months, we have (well some of us) been following the events over in New Zealand.  The game is Rugby Union and once again another game has sailed onto the horizon of Bingo’s world, causing the young chap much bafflement!

You may recall my poor efforts recently when I endeavoured to explain the ‘offside’ rule in football to him.  This, in fact, is small beer compared with the monstrously nonsensical debacle known as the laws of RU!  In my humble view this is rule making by committee gone mad!  What chance had I of making sense of something so convoluted to our furry companion?  In short - NONE!

It has to be said that at times Bingo can be extremely sensitive to the situation, and guessing that my furrowed brow and ‘um…er…well….you see…er’ indeed did infer that Rugger was not really my game, although I seem to be highly vocal while watching the efforts of 30 overweight ‘trundlers’ biffing seven bells out of each other when ever possible.

‘Seems to me aged poop, it’s just a chance to scrag as many chaps as you can before the referee takes a dim view of your efforts!’
What can you say to such pure logic?

I did however notice he was extremely interested in the All Blacks ‘Haka’ following their gestures most carefully, but extremely puzzled when the chaps on the other side didn’t rush forward and link arms with them and do a Morris dance!

I said nothing.

Bingo was however, fascinated by the none spherical ball which had a habit of not bouncing where one would expect it to, particularly at the most important moments.

Again, I said nothing.

‘Your silence, old codger, infers that you find the lack of a round pill ridiculous?’
‘Far be it from me young barker to pronounce on the subject, I find it hard to argue against the fated day when some young scrub at Rugby School for Gents, picked up a football during a game and ran with it……or so the tale goes.’
‘Blimey I bet his botty got a biffing from his master?’
‘Well lad, it did mean that shortly after this event, slow, less speedy chaps were able to finally make their impression on the field of play, by pounding the more agile footy boys, dumping them on the turf and rolling on ‘em!’
‘Strewth!’
‘Quite young Bingo…definitely strewth indeed!’

The boys noble brow furrowed slightly, and I held my breath as the whole business of rugby rattled around his cranium.  He rested his chin on the arm of the settee, and gazed out of the window…..
Time passed…..
Clocks ticked……
A robin, totally oblivious of the finer points of the ‘line out’ continued with his nest making……
The tension mounted, I raised my eyebrows enquiringly, but lowered them after several false alarms……
Finally……..
‘The thing is….’
‘Yes?’
‘Well the thing is ol’ grand-pappy T…..
‘Yes?’
‘I fear this is one occasion when the introduction of a ‘squeeker’ into the oval pill will not be welcomed.’
‘Oh really?’
‘Well you see, they look such fearful bruisers, I cant imagine them  understanding the jollity of a really tip-top squeak!’
‘I see.’

The chin clamped itself back onto the padded settee arm and the canine cogs resumed their cogitation.
Time passed…..
Clocks tick…..well you get the drift.
Slowly a small glimmer appeared in the eyes, over the seconds this glimmer took flame and within seconds they blazed with the full light of reason!
‘A-ha I have it!’
‘Oh I say well done!’
‘Well it’s a tad controversial…but taking into account the apparent ability for those scraggers to drink vast quantities of beer and down mighty plates of curry………
‘That is true, most definitely.’
‘Well then guv, the rugby ball should TRUMP on impact!’
I was loss for words………
The lad, having solved this dilemma, rolled off the couch and trundled out into the garden with the air of that inventor chap who had just yelled ‘Eureka!’

The All Blacks won without a ‘trumping’ ball, but by now Bingo was engaged in other matters and oblivious of the Kiwis joy.