Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Wednesday, 28 December 2016
Our Boxing Day tribute to George Michael. I think it was this tune which hit home and tugged at the heart-strings more than any other. They interviewed a couple of residents at his Oxfordshire village who had never even met him, and they were in tears. Auld Lang Syne and all that.
The party on the Levels was suddenly invaded by a group of young people and our hostess's plans for a quiet evening with her two children and some other elderly guests went out of the window.
The young folk brought a boxed game with them called 'Beer-Pong'. It consisted of 16 plastic mugs of the sort they issue at Glastonbury Festival (four miles from where this film was shot), two trays of clear plastic to hold the mugs in two groups of 8 in triangular form - points facing inwards - and a load of orange ping-pong balls.
You arrange the mugs on a table and fill each with beer (or not fill them if you are short of beer), and form two teams. One team take it in turns to throw the balls into the opponent's mugs. Simple.
Here is the rule that I do not understand: If you successfully get a ball into your opponent's mug, they have to drink the beer. Where's the losing in that? If you filled the mugs with something like, say, urine, then I could see the point, but beer?
Now this is what I really don't understand - the game set costs £15, and that doesn't include beer!