Currant Cake, Cock and Commando !

FINALLY .......my juices are flowing !! After a lengthy dry spell during which I thought normal service would not resume, along came a cock and all is again well with the world. Well truthfully this was the second part of my return to form. After a self imposed Facebook ban, I went online one evening to find that the local Rugby club, for whom I had danced the twist with the Honey Monster and nearly ruptured myself with the Spud Farmer, were hosting a " Commit to getting 5k fit" course with none other that Gentle Gary and Jolly Joan at the helm. Having spent the past year recovering from injury and only recently having broken into a trot ( only after a man approached me from behind with his large syringe.....) I reckoned I am ready for some increased activity but require motivation. Well....if anything is going to motivate me it's the thought of GG dressed in camouflage shouting at me....it's the stuff of dreams ! I am already planning my outfit and wondering if the MASSIVE knickers might be an idea to avoid the VPL .....mind you I am sure an army man would not be averse to a little COMMANDO !!! Bring on July 3rd !
Yesterday, an event I wrote about last year took place again...Chicken Curran got his cock out at the local GAA pitch. Last year he nearly suffered a horrible injury when he grabbed it just under the head and it struggled madly to escape. This year, he came up with an alternative, far more successful, cock release plan and thankfully all went well. The slightly insane and bemused rooster kindly dropped his poo on square 64 and two young under 8 players shared the €100 prize for the Cock a Doodle Poo competition at Family Fun Day. Mrs Curran Cake ( Chicken's mother) was on tea and coffees this year in the hall. €2 got you tea and "biscuits" . Truthfully it bought you a cup of team and a plate of homemade buns and cake. Mrs Curran Cake glanced over at the table of male club members and like a drug dealer leaned forward and whispering, asked me if I would like some of her tea brack. With that she presented me with a large gorgeous slice to go with my cuppa and I praised her baking. At this stage the races had started. I have a life long history of absolutely hating community races as I have ALWAYS been paddy last. Unfortunately my eldest son, who has numerous other talents in life ( like his mother !) has taken this mantle. True to form the under 12's race saw him come in at the back ( but alot closer to the pack that last year !) When the time came for the dreaded mothers race, which I had managed to avoid last year citing injury, I knew what I had to do. Pretending to be dragged by my youngest I took my place at the starting line like a Labrador among greyhounds, knowing exactly what was ahead of me....basically everyone else ! " Go" yelled the starter and in my skinny jeans and metallic deck shoes I trotted off at my top speed eating the dust of the other mammies. As the medal was hung around the slender neck of Chicken Curran's lovely missus The Galway Girl, I arrived at the finish line. I was happy out because, contrary to how I had ever felt before, I was proud that I had taken part and enjoyed seeing the excitement in my boys at the sight of me trundling along to come in last, but at one with all those who never win the medal. The final prize was mine however as Mrs Curran Cake came over, again whispering like a Love Hate cast member and asked me if I would like a " quarter to take home" ? The tea brack was mine, Chicken Curran's cock was back in it's cage and Gentle Gary was waiting for me....what a day !