sack of potato's

i hope these posts are still proving interesting to read. maybe this one will be more interesting.
...
the night was halloween and the sun had fallen behind a blanket of darkness. the moon was draped in a foggy mist and roamed in the air like a thief in the night. for many this would be a normal night. for others it would prove so horrible that no words could mask the events of such happenings only the testimony of those who were unfortunate enough to be eye witnesses.

a small gathering of friends under the shadow of an abandoned hotel would prove a worthy adversary for a night of intense competative sport and manly showmanship. the ego in the air was almost as pungent as the odor from sweaty shirts. legs were sent flying. reputations were forming and amongst the ego,odor and spooky mist one man finds himself with the ball at his feet. running like the wind he hit his stride. with a foot on the ball and a balance momentarily misplaced the valient warrior hits the ground harder than a sack of potatos. the makeshift arena fell silent as blood poured from the womb and sweat dripped from the brow of a fallen giant. yet all was not lost as the ball rolled into the net to the sound of 'champions!'

the night was a staggering sucess for the underdogs who came out on top despite being massively under manned and full of rubbish thai's. this night like many others sums up the social lives of a large proportion of expat blokes in PP.

praise God for football.