Myself & Ball: Birthday Blues

Birthday Blues

Myself and Ball had another reason to go out on Wednesday, our friend Dave was celebrating his birthday.  Also Ball’s favourite football team, Arsenal, were playing West Ham and it was televised on Sky Sports.  It was a cold day in Northampton and with our university commitments it was not until 12pm that I saw Ball, he was in good spirits probably due to the fact that he had already had four cups of tea.  Tea is like crack to Ball, he just can’t enough.  The only thing Ball likes more than tea is making tea – it is a great advantage of living with Ball that you always have someone willing to make tea.

In the afternoon Ball was due to play football in the Inter-Uni Football League.  Ball plays for a team called Ariba Ariba, he was one of the founding members of the team which was formed in 2004.  Ball himself managed the team in the first year, he was derided in certain circles for his management skills, his continuous appearance in the left-back position and eventually resigned in cloud of controversy because of financial irregularities; Ball had been spending everyone’s match fees at the £10 all-you-can-drink night at Legends.  He passed on the management of the team after his unsuccessful season and now plays less frequently due to the consistent performances of ‘The Doc’.  Ariba Ariba won the game, much to the delight of all involved, Ball was particularly happy and celebrated with two cups of tea in the post-match assessment in our living room.

Ball showered and then it was time for dinner.  Ball took control of the cooking duties whilst I washed up, what we had for tea was a delightful Spaghetti Bolognaise. Ball finished his tea before me, he usually does, he eats like his life depends on it deep throating each mouthful with a murderous passion.  If he was ever on death row his last meal wouldn’t prolong things, he eats that fast.  After getting ready it was time to leave for the pub, again Ball chose the Penny Whistle for watching of the game.

Ball had a new coat, he purchased the coat with money intended for a birthday present for his step-mother, somewhat frivolously he decided to buy the coat instead. Ball’s logic determines that he’ll find another way of giving a present to his step-mother.  Like the present he gave me there is a possibility it will be stolen.  I treasure that CD single of C’est La Vie by B*wtiched like the crown jewels.

After the match, another disappointing result for Ball, our circle of friends left for another pub.  We ended up in The Goose, we met some friends of a friend there. Whilst the birthday went crazy, Ball and I discussed the finer points of Bathroom Attendants.  Ball had been upstairs to urinate and returned with a lolly-pop, “I don’t wanna give those twats money for soap and a lolly-pop” he complained.  After a few more drinks we began to talk to the friends of a friend.  One particular girl caught Ball’s eye for the wrong reason.  She was wearing a particularly short skirt and as she sat on her stool it was clear to us all that we could see her underwear, however Ball offered her further insight.  ”You know your short skirt, I can see your pubs through your black pants” he said abruptly.  She denied this.  It wasn’t long before things got even more heated, luckily we were about to leave when Ball said “Get this slut away from me!”.

Ball left the club early, he was not pleased with the “cunts” surrounding him.  When I returned home myself there was again silence.  I thought I’d leave Ball, I knew he had to be up for university early, but I needed to wee.  I went into the bathroom and found the mirror decimated.  Ball had been up to no good again.  I had my wee and went to bed deciding to confront Ball the next morning.

“I didn’t break the mirror” Ball said for the umpteenth time, I knew otherwise, mirrors don’t break themselves.  ”Don’t deny it” I said firmly.  He looked at me “I didn’t smash the fucking mirror. I’ll clean it up later, but I didn’t break it” he said.  That was the closest thing to an admission of guilt you are likely to get from Ball.  He picked up his satchel, turned, and with a twinkle in his eye he smiled and was gone.  I sipped on a cuppa he had made me, crunched the toast he had prepared.  Can he not have a night out without something crazy occurring? How am I supposed to shave without a bathroom mirror? Ball is a menace, if not to society then to me and all around him.  Worst of all, he’d still not cleaned up his poo on the back doorstep.