Monday Moaning

My Sunday afternoon and evening were mapped out. Liverpool v Chelsea in the Premier League, followed by the final day of the U.S. Masters at Augusta. Fantastic. And then the terrible conspiracy to completely ruin my day began. Officials at Augusta received reports of bad weather due to hit Georgia at around 3pm EDT, so, understandably, they decided to bring the tee times forward to the early morning.

This meant that the coverage of the golf would coincide with the football. No problem. Modern technology enables us to watch one channel while recording another, so, basically, my plans hadn’t changed – football then golf. All I had to do was avoid any news from Augusta and, I figured, if I switched straight to the recorded event after the live football, I’d be fine. Wrong.

The presenter of the football show (who shall remain unnamed), minutes before the end of the programme, opened his idiot mouth and allowed something along these lines to spew forth: “And what a story right now at Augusta, where Tiger Woods is on the brink of a remarkable…” I didn’t hear the rest of his statement because I had already launched into an epic tirade of abuse directed at this imbecile presenter. I wish I had written it down actually. It had everything an aspiring writer could hope for – assonance, alliteration, metaphors, similes, even a touch of zoomorphism and onomatopoeia.

Of course, my mood might have already been slightly darkened by Chelsea losing to Liverpool, but the presenter was very, very lucky that he didn’t mention anything about Game of Thrones cos then I might have gone all Gregor Clegane on him.

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