TSA '06 Comeback Special
The lights dim, the audience hushes and all over the nation literally tens of people huddle around their PCs, the better to see the return of a man many had thought long dead.
Some believed that he had become a Scientologist, others that he had been taken in and worshipped by a tribe of the Amazonian rainforest whose rather peculiar primitive beliefs held that their God would come uttering pithy asides and ill-informed opinions about sporting matters in early 21st century northwestern Europe.
Others still believed that he had attempted to accompany Ellen McArthur in circumnavigating the globe, but soon returned to shore appalled by the celebrated seafarer's excessive and little-publicised penchant for piracy.
There were tales, muttered in dimly-lit liquor dens in the seedy part of town, which described labyrinthe conpiracies connecting the elusive character with putting Marco Materazzi up to the shameful "slagging of Zidane's Ma/ethnic heritage" then disappearing into the Berlin night with what eye-witnesses swore was the Italian's very mortal soul.
Several crackpot lunatics long committed to the care of high security psychiatric institutions were heard to scream in the night about how, early in the year, he had sabotaged the Tyrone football team's training sessions by firing plutonic gamma rays at Brian McGuigan, Brian Dooher, Collie Holmes and Stephen O'Neill, thereby causing them to sustain debilitating injuries, then subsequently slipped Francie Bellew a mickey before the All-Ireland quarter final allowing that big young fella to get the better of him against Kerry.
The deranged mentalists who propagated this story claim that they saw the shadowy spectre accept a briefcase from a man with a strong Killarney brogue who whispered "yerra, that'll teach those northern feckers to make off with our championship, he he he he..."
People who claim to know about these things believed he was engaged by that adjunct of the Christian fundamentalist Bush administration and military industrial complex, the US Ryder Cup team, to destabilise their European foes in the upcoming jumpers and jingoism extravaganza. He was supposedly refused payment after trying convince his sinister bosses that he had something to do with Padraig Harrington finishing second all the bleeding time.
Hurling insiders believed he had been brought into the Kilkenny camp as a mind-guru, whose insidious tactic was to repeat into various Cats' ears the mantra "three-in-a-row, three-in-a-row".
Many gave credence to the notion that he was the super-agent who brokered the Tevez-Mascherano transfer to West Ham, others thought he planted testosterone in Floyd Landis' corn flakes, some swore passionately that he was the man who designed Roger Federer's fetching Wimbledon suit or cut Ciaran McDonald's hair or put Big Ron back on telly....
It mattered little, the conjecture, for presently the lights rose with the bulbs making out the form of a giant T.S.A. and revealed a leather-clad figure hunched over a keyboard.....
Some believed that he had become a Scientologist, others that he had been taken in and worshipped by a tribe of the Amazonian rainforest whose rather peculiar primitive beliefs held that their God would come uttering pithy asides and ill-informed opinions about sporting matters in early 21st century northwestern Europe.
Others still believed that he had attempted to accompany Ellen McArthur in circumnavigating the globe, but soon returned to shore appalled by the celebrated seafarer's excessive and little-publicised penchant for piracy.
There were tales, muttered in dimly-lit liquor dens in the seedy part of town, which described labyrinthe conpiracies connecting the elusive character with putting Marco Materazzi up to the shameful "slagging of Zidane's Ma/ethnic heritage" then disappearing into the Berlin night with what eye-witnesses swore was the Italian's very mortal soul.
Several crackpot lunatics long committed to the care of high security psychiatric institutions were heard to scream in the night about how, early in the year, he had sabotaged the Tyrone football team's training sessions by firing plutonic gamma rays at Brian McGuigan, Brian Dooher, Collie Holmes and Stephen O'Neill, thereby causing them to sustain debilitating injuries, then subsequently slipped Francie Bellew a mickey before the All-Ireland quarter final allowing that big young fella to get the better of him against Kerry.
The deranged mentalists who propagated this story claim that they saw the shadowy spectre accept a briefcase from a man with a strong Killarney brogue who whispered "yerra, that'll teach those northern feckers to make off with our championship, he he he he..."
People who claim to know about these things believed he was engaged by that adjunct of the Christian fundamentalist Bush administration and military industrial complex, the US Ryder Cup team, to destabilise their European foes in the upcoming jumpers and jingoism extravaganza. He was supposedly refused payment after trying convince his sinister bosses that he had something to do with Padraig Harrington finishing second all the bleeding time.
Hurling insiders believed he had been brought into the Kilkenny camp as a mind-guru, whose insidious tactic was to repeat into various Cats' ears the mantra "three-in-a-row, three-in-a-row".
Many gave credence to the notion that he was the super-agent who brokered the Tevez-Mascherano transfer to West Ham, others thought he planted testosterone in Floyd Landis' corn flakes, some swore passionately that he was the man who designed Roger Federer's fetching Wimbledon suit or cut Ciaran McDonald's hair or put Big Ron back on telly....
It mattered little, the conjecture, for presently the lights rose with the bulbs making out the form of a giant T.S.A. and revealed a leather-clad figure hunched over a keyboard.....
posted by Tommy77 at 12:43 p.m.
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