BALL GAME
“This really is out of character, I must say. I'm going to have to telephone your parents... We could even be looking at involving the police,” said Mr Widdington, my Head Master. I gulped and felt my pubescent gonads shrink to the size of two marbles and watched as Widdy reached for the phone on his desk to call my mum.

Earlier that day my year had been pissing about doing something new in PE. As we'd just started in the 3rd Year we were now officially old enough to start playing a new sport that none of us had tried before. It was a strange cult-type sport involving silly clothes, strange rituals, the use of saliva in strange and interesting ways, and no small amount of the rubbing of leather coated cork balls on groinal areas. Our impressionable thirteen year old minds were introduced to such strange phrases as short leg, silly mid wicket, googly, and OOOOOWWWWW-ZZZZZZ-AAAAA-TTTTT !!! (Usually followed by a very quiet: ”You fucker?” Under your breath for the amusement of your mates nearby.

Yes, we were going to learn how to play this toffs sport usually reserved for inbred Englishmen from monied backgrounds as an excuse to pat each other on the bottoms and proclaim: “Jolly good show, what?” While checking out each others arses in tight white linen trousers.

We were going to learn how to playing cricket.

We had cricket nets at my school. So on this bright and breezy Monday morning Cunt McCabe (the PE teacher – his surname was McCabe and he was a complete and utter cunt), took my class down to the nets and we started chucking fuck off hard balls at each other. The object being to fend said fuck off hard ball away with an oddly shaped plank of wood (if batting), or to attempt to maim your mate with a ball to the head (if bowling). But that wasn't the most exciting part. No, the best thing about this new, strange, weird sport was the fact we were going to get to put a cricket box down the front of our shorts and stride round feeling somewhat like a Roman gladiator. They were in a cardboard box off to one side, tantalizing us, dazzling us with their testicle-protecting goodness.

“Right, line up you lot,” said McCabe. We lined up. “Paul here is going to show you how its done,” McCabe called Paul Sinclair up to the front. Paul already played cricket for Warwickshire Under 15's and was a shit hot player. To Paul McCabe said: “Demonstrate a defensive stroke, Paul.”

And that's when my mind started wondering. My eyes were fixated on Paul Sinclair's crotch. Or rather the bulge there. It was fucking immense. I nudged my mate Greg stood next to me and whispered; “Paul's already got a box on.”

Short pause then Greg whispered back: ”Go on... Dare you... … …Kick him in the bollocks... ”

”Fuck off !!!”

To which Greg reasoned: ”You fucking pussy !!!”

”Fuck off, no fucking chance, mate !!!”

”Ppppppuuuuuuuusssssssssssssssyyyyyyyyy !!!!!!!!!”

And it went on like this for the length of time it took Cunt McCabe and Paul Sinclair to demonstrate the hook and pull shot to a bunch of disinterested inner city retards. Eventually I caved. As McCabe finished his demonstration with teachers pet, Paul – I'm So Fucking Good At Cricket – Sinclair, and made us give the lanky shit a round of applause as he went to step back in line, I saw my chance.

Without putting too much thought into it I launched myself forward and kicked Paul Sinclair clean plumb hard in the bollocks. I felt my toe make contact with something soft and squidgy. Paul's eyes went wide, he made a weird girlish curdling noise like a rutting narwhal, and went down in the fetal position trembling and whimpering.

My feet didn't even touch the ground, Cunt McCabe had be in Widdy's office in less than five minutes flat.

Turns out Paul wasn't wearing a cricket box at all...

only a pair of very tight shorts...

coupled with the sort of freakish supersized testicles you'd usually find swinging free at the rear end of a donkey...
( SpankyHanky, Thu 19 Nov 2009, 23:39, 13 replies)

Its a good job Im home reading this
If I was at work they'd wonder why I was laughing so much ;-)
(Ramjet, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 0:27, closed)

I am at work
and my assistant is wondering why I'm sitting in my office all alone laughing.
( kingoffools, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 19:46, closed)

jesus
this is funny especially the whale bit. nice one dude.
(Zombie Mat, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 1:35, closed)

Very Clickworthy!
Gold.
(raven19, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 5:15, closed)

Genius!
*click*

Although it does pose the question, why the fuck would anyone not wear a box?

One lad decided to go without in the team I used to play for. 2nd ball he was hit straight in the knackers. He proceeded to knock over his own stumps, hobble to the edge of the pitch, and vomit (to the shock of all those who drove past on that main road!)
( Agnostic Antichrist Baltimora, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 11:14, closed)

For me its the pastry cutter effect
If you get whacked in the balls wearing a cup you find the edges dig into your skin and hurt like a muthafucker. Fuckin painful. Though probably better than getting smacked hard in the balls, I suppose.
(Lizard King, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 11:22, closed)

It still hurts
Definitely.

But it stops permanant damage, which let's face it, if you're going to be hit with a cricket ball travelling so fast you can't hit it, it's going to hurt!
( Agnostic Antichrist Baltimora, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 11:32, closed)

Why would they not wear a box?
Because it's a lameo made up story, that's why.
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 16:03, closed)

What's with the nasty element on here recently?
Is there any point? You don't contribute anything and if you had any sense you'd realise if you haven't got anything nice to say you shouldn't say anything at all.
(Great Amy, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 16:22, closed)

Wow.
Wise words. Wise words indeed. If I had any sense I'd realise it's better to say nothing if I don't have anything nice to say.

There goes the entire history of cultural criticism, swept away by someone with very poor taste in humour and who can't be fucked to actually check to see levels of contribution on this site. I have a sense of restraint, unlike the unfortunate OP who sees fit to spam the QOTW with extremely mediocre obviously bullshit stories, week after fucking week.

Well done. Well done you Amy. Keep it up!
(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Sat 21 Nov 2009, 19:20, closed)

Seriously kids...
Having worked with children for a fair long while I can safely say I haven't come across this level of childishness before. Its fucking hilarious. Are you an adult? Fuck me, pal. Sorry if I've damaged your precious internet. No offense meant. But in all honesty if you're that concerned there's something missing in your life bigtime.

I can recommend a couple of things: One, go out and get laid. It might take some of that tension and aggression away. Two, put me on ignore. Simple, isn't it?

This is the one and only post I'll put on here in reply to this kind of spiteful, pittiful, snide bollocks. I'll tell you why - I've just used my ignore button. Just one click and you're sorted. I recommend you do the same too and try and chill out a bit. Get a hobby. Go out and get some fresh air.

Move along now, nothing to see here.
( SpankyHanky, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 22:52, closed)

.
Actually I was referring to the number of idiots who don't wear boxes, as I've seen several people get flattened because they're so short sighted.

I was referring to it as a whole, not just in this story.
( Agnostic Antichrist Baltimora, Fri 20 Nov 2009, 16:25, closed)

lies are fun!

(massively_optimistic that's terrific!, Sun 22 Nov 2009, 12:29, closed)