To the BATMOBILE

Sunday, August 07, 2005

butlerman is serving

Andy Roddick, Roger Federer, Andre Agassi, and the russian pornstars. All of them masters of the wonderful game of tennis.

Ah, tennis - a gentlemanly sport, a game of finesse, and technique.

A game, which sadly, I cannot grasp.

With my doubles partner occasionally being forced to run off the court screaming for help, amidst my wild swinging racket/serves (of which I proudly boast, to be improving ever-so-well), and the far wall and/or net taking punishment like never before (though strangely enough, I hardly got any of the balls within the proper area), I decided to let my feelings known in the most familiar way. Hence the angst-filled profanities hurled, echoing around Stevens Rd.

It has been an eventful day however - even for Butlerman's superhuman standards.

You would find it so if you stood next to what seemed to be an ex-Middle-Eastern republican guard (sorry, too much "Lost") cum professional wrestler in an Army tanktop, complete with ActionMan jungle camouflage face paint. Best of all would be the fact that he carried a backpack that looked squarish and (to me, in particular. No one else seemed bothered) vaguely bomb-shaped. With the train rattling and the sharp end of the bag (BOMB!) reminding me of its presence every few seconds by giving my kidneys a few jerks and nudges, my bladder was on the verge of giving way. Twenty, panic-filled seconds later, where I was always ready to throw myself underneath some poor auntie's feet the moment his fingers twitched, I burst out of the carriage screaming into Dhoby Gaut, ran down to the next carriage and hid behind the expansive girth of a caucasian man, making preparations to sacrifice himself before me (Superhero benefits and all). Total Defence indeed.

"If you do meet me along the street, do not hesitate to caress my thighs and buttocks." - Little Britain.
Happy National Day(?)
TO THE BATMOBILE

posted by butler at 10:23 pm
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