Yer Boy Harry’s Club Night Report 18.08.22
It was with some trepidation that I ventured out of my hovel this Thursday to head down to the Coachmakers for club night. The reason? Well, not only was I out of fresh jockey shorts and sporting a pair of briefs so tight they made Scrooge look positively philanthropic, but it was to be the third in Cap’n Dave’s series of excellent summertime theme nights and to be the Double Bong Cloud attack. I had had some dalliance with this opening after some Monday night chess with the Delsey and we both found it fun, but kept mixing up our kings with our queens due to the former being on e2 and e7 respectively. Still, I headed to the club with a swagger in my step for the club is a pub and there be all the lovely booze and lovely people wot I like to see. It had not been seven minutes into my fifteen minute perambulation to the venue when I started to damn global warming for season creep! The [not another, Ed] reason? None other than Father Christmas was walking not ten paces in front of me on the Norwich Newmarket Road in high August! I fastened my stride to catch up as I wanted to check that he had got my letter about being a goodish boy and had some Arab straps in stock like wot I had asked for. The fast stride was, of course, hell on the tight brief region but worth it as I soon saw Saint Nick was in fact St John’s very own Geoff Moore. We talked a while as chess folk often do and was informed the Bong Cloud Attack might be off the menu in favour of some still dubious, but not totally fucking dubious, opening such as the Orangutan. Geoff then, very kindly, proceeded to tell me how to counter the Orangutan and I listened intently … At the club, there were about a load of people in attendance. For those who don’t know, ‘a load’ is roughly the amount of chess players that it takes to fill 20 pairs of extremely tight briefs. After some badinage and bollox and Saint Christina of the Casti had pulled the opening we were to play out of a hat we were off and the Orangutan it was with 5 + 3 on ze clocks. Somehow I managed to win my first few games and then up stepped Mr Moore. Crickey, I thought, as I faced the top player in the club. Then I recalled how he told me to play against the Orang and promptly managed to beat him much to both our surprises. I then faced Tal, Senthil to you and me, and played my usual terrible game of chess much to his delight. Somehow though, my oppo managed to miss a simple mate threat and had to concede defeat whilst I collapsed into paroxysm of giggly giggles. At the have way point I hadn’t lost a match, but as usual I drunk more beers and the tipping point between genius tipsiness and totally stupidity had been crossed and I’m not sure I won another game. Special mentions though go to James Woodburn who, quite rightly, kicked my arse. Luca for not pulling drunk women who like nice shirts and to Geoff Moore for telling me how to beat him. I don’t really recall much more than that, but I believe Anthony Hall took the title for the night and a good time was had by all. Next week will be (subject to change) some Fischer random, though I won’t be in attendance so as to give Geoff more of a chance. So until next we meet it be cheers and chin chin from me and cioa for nows and don’t forget to come to my gaff for a Nigel Larter Testimoanal chess party on the 3rd September from 19:30 hours on. Harry xxx
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