I have only cried twice in my life.
The first being on the 10th of January 2016. I was having a bath on that sorrowful evening watching Matty Robbins replays on my IPad when I received a text from a mutual friend informing me that David Robert Jones, known professionally as David Bowie, passed in his sleep after a battle with liver cancer.
Bowie, ‘The Camellion’, is widely regarded as the most talented songwriter and front man in history. Superior to Lennon and Glitter. A true artist, a legend in his own right.
I wept upon hearing of his passing and made Mrs Brisdog whisper ‘Heroes’ as I eventually met slumber 2 days later.
The second time I felt a salt like fluid decamp from my eye was a well known turning point in human history: 8:16pm Saturday 25 September 2018.
A 20 year old boy on one leg hobbled in a westerly direction towards goal. Jason Johannisen was well aware of that simply dropping a ball on the chest of a genius was pointless - why disappoint 21000 warriors who had ventured 2500 miles to witness feats not known to men of lesser faith? He dropped the ball in the precise location that a mere mortal would butcher.
The Bont moved towards the ball like a wounded Lion, he gathered in his right paw, cocked his left leg and changed history as he plunged a dagger into the plastic hearts of franchise-lovers around the world.
Like that time in the bath with ‘Robbo’ I felt a stinging salt like substance gather in my eye. I threw the plastic glass of cider over my shoulder into the face of some campaigner and burst into tears, I erupted into verse:
We can beat them (these plastic c*+ts),
Forever and Ever!
Oh Bont, you’re a hero,
Just for one day.
I was then escorted from Spotless stadium in a North-easterly direction by the local Constabulary.
Who is better? Bont or Bowie?
The first being on the 10th of January 2016. I was having a bath on that sorrowful evening watching Matty Robbins replays on my IPad when I received a text from a mutual friend informing me that David Robert Jones, known professionally as David Bowie, passed in his sleep after a battle with liver cancer.
Bowie, ‘The Camellion’, is widely regarded as the most talented songwriter and front man in history. Superior to Lennon and Glitter. A true artist, a legend in his own right.
I wept upon hearing of his passing and made Mrs Brisdog whisper ‘Heroes’ as I eventually met slumber 2 days later.
The second time I felt a salt like fluid decamp from my eye was a well known turning point in human history: 8:16pm Saturday 25 September 2018.
A 20 year old boy on one leg hobbled in a westerly direction towards goal. Jason Johannisen was well aware of that simply dropping a ball on the chest of a genius was pointless - why disappoint 21000 warriors who had ventured 2500 miles to witness feats not known to men of lesser faith? He dropped the ball in the precise location that a mere mortal would butcher.
The Bont moved towards the ball like a wounded Lion, he gathered in his right paw, cocked his left leg and changed history as he plunged a dagger into the plastic hearts of franchise-lovers around the world.
Like that time in the bath with ‘Robbo’ I felt a stinging salt like substance gather in my eye. I threw the plastic glass of cider over my shoulder into the face of some campaigner and burst into tears, I erupted into verse:
We can beat them (these plastic c*+ts),
Forever and Ever!
Oh Bont, you’re a hero,
Just for one day.
I was then escorted from Spotless stadium in a North-easterly direction by the local Constabulary.
Who is better? Bont or Bowie?
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