I'm not a liar, honest!
A few years back in the 90’s, Mrs. Nimrodihnio was working for Hewlett Packard and we were invited to see an England v Australia match at the oval. I like cricket but the best of all it was corporate jolly, nice box, great view, good food, drink on tap the whole day albeit a with stern warning from MRS N not to make a twat of myself in front of her work colleagues.
As we were on the coach on the way, I noticed on the agenda that it was to be hosted by Bob Willis, fast bowler hero to a generation of England cricket fans. Which was great as I had been taught biology for a term by Miss Willis,his sister, a tall, unusual looking, but not unattractive supply teacher. Being a gregarious sort, I chatted to the colleagues about this claim to fame and everybody agreed what a hero he was and how we were looking forward to the day spent in his company regaling us with his engaging stories of winning the ashes with Beefy etc etc.

We arrived and greeted with champagne, we were given a welcome and an overview of the prospects of the day from the great man himself. After a while he came over to our group and made small talk and the big boss said ‘Oh BTW Bob, nimrodihnio over here was taught biology by your sister!’ silence and a great deal of confusion on the face of the big man. ‘my sister is not a teacher and never has been, she is a nurse in the western isles’ silence followed by me saying ‘no, she said she was your sister, she looked just like you and when we asked her if she was she said yes...you have to be....oh god...oh..fuck...’ as he looked at me with a mixture of contempt and incredulity, I could see then what had intimidated a generation of batsmen.
At this point I would have loved to have related how we all shared a good laugh with Nimrodihnio being the victim of a lying hoaxing teacher all those years ago but unfortunately the feeling was that I was some sort of fantasist that had tried to ingratiate myself with the group with my celebrity stories as being an actor at the time I had a few and had entertained them with my brushing shoulders with the stars.

As rain stopped play I did not even have the chance to focus on the cricket and spent the rest of a very miserable day getting pissed in between bouts of very indifferent cricket.

As we were leaving, I may have imagined it, but I have the memory of Bob looking at me across the room with a mixture of sadness and pity. When we got home ‘Mrs N turned to me and said ‘Do you remember,what was the one thing I asked you not to do?’

Ah fuck him, may have been a great bowler but he was awful corporate host with zero story telling ability poor interpersonal skills and his sister was a shit nurse.. probably.
(nimrodihnio making gravy for one., Sat 14 Aug 2010, 9:48, 2 replies)

Clickety, click. Cricket heroes and lies will win the day!
(boozehound is drinking your bar dry, Sat 14 Aug 2010, 10:16, closed)

ha!
I had everyone convinced I was related to him because my dad looked like him a bit. Well, he had a beard.
(foxy01, Mon 16 Aug 2010, 1:25, closed)