I’ve seen it on the telly And I thought it looked easy That was foolish. And now I’ve learned That I’m terrible at hockey Sometimes, I swipe at thin air I play with the grace of a grizzly bear Generally, I try to keep out of the way and attempt a few tackles
And, I’ll never be able To do an Indian dribble
My feet seem to grow They seem unable to avoid the ball I give away short and long corners Then, I stand on the post A headless chicken, protecting the goal Recently, I found redemption I blocked the ball on the goal line With my stick, I knocked it away
As part of my fitness regime I’ve been going out running Usually along a disused railway line Sometimes across the fields And through the deer park Sometimes, the cows are out grazing And, one day, I had to turn back When one of them blocked a stile I couldn’t shoo it away It was a cantankerous beast Protecting its calves. Looking vicious
On another occasion, I was close to home And, at a junction, where two tracks joined A man on a bicycle, with 2 young boys Stopped to let me pass I thanked him, and said ‘I don’t believe this, I’m overtaking cyclists!’ He laughed And I ran on, keeping a steady pace Then, I heard a rumble behind me Getting closer. I looked over my shoulder I couldn’t really see him But, I knew he was there
Slowly but surely, the rattle got louder I was being hunted down By a small Terminator On 10-inch wheels, with stabilisers Those little legs pumped as he passed me And he said, ‘I caught you up!’ I managed a smile, and said, ‘Well done.’ Then, he stopped and waited For his family to catch him up I said, ‘Hasta la vista baby!’ And carried on, upping my pace a touch
I kicked on, not too far to go Rays of sunshine filtered through The trees, feeding me vitamin D Then, I heard the rumble again The Terminator was back! The rattle got louder, so I kicked on again As much as I could muster Determined to win this battle The noise faded, and I savoured a victory I finally defeated the Terminator On 10-inch wheels, with stabilisers
I took up running
3 or 4 years ago
It was an attempt to get fit
And to stop my belly growing
But, there’s a slight problem
I don’t go running very often
And I’m really very slow
My personal best is best forgotten
Their bicycles are lightweight racers made of aluminium
Lycra leggings riding up high, into the crack of the bum
Grey haired fellas in dayglo yellow, cruising through rush hour go slow
A bike barmy, latex army pedals through city contraflow
Perspiration pours off them in a smoggy city panorama
Then they ride through the countryside spreading their aroma
The smell of nylon and burning rubber, mingling with sweat
Desperately they pray they won’t need to visit the toilet
Heads down over handlebars, legs like sticks of dynamite
Body pumping, working overtime, muscle definition, skin tight
Nothing left to imagination, pedestrians look away blushing
Bulging buttocks bounce along, and these lycra louts are always cussing
Motorists who misbehave are monstered with verbal abuse
Curse words are cut loose, in between mouthfuls of energy juice
The brake cables on their behaviour have been completely severed
But it’s absolutely clear that they’re really not too bothered
They keep their machines well lubricated, always in good condition
But their attitude really stinks, maybe they should take up fishing
They don’t ask for permission, just ride roughshod everywhere
They swarm through country lanes, motorists should beware
They’re insanely competitive, they dream of Olympic gold
Forgetting completely that they’re far too creaky and old
They stick two fingers up at boy racers, curse at Nissan Micras
They end up stuck in the wrong gear, middle aged men in lycra
