Confessions from a Holiday Camp - The Potty Piss Up by steemonkey

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funny · @steemonkey ·
$40.34
Confessions from a Holiday Camp - The Potty Piss Up
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<p>https://s8.postimg.cc/5ipzolq79/holidaycamp.jpg</p>
<p>It's not very often that you get the chance to play against a multiple world champion at any given sport so when I sat at our usual table in the bar, little did I know my chance was about to arrive.</p>
<p>It was just an ordinary Wednesday night in the bar as far as I was concerned. I'd been down to the pub in the village as usual and had walked back along the road to the holiday camp before last orders as usual. I ordered my crusty cheese fritter (pint of bitter with a head on it) from Kevin the barman as usual and sat at the large table nearest the bar which was occupied by other holiday camp staff as usual.</p>
<p>My pint glass was probably half full by the time I noticed the rather tipsy gentleman stood at the bar chatting away to a few people. It was his voice that grabbed my attention. As soon as I heard it I recognised it. At first I thought it strange that someone could have exactly the same voice as one of my childhood heroes and I looked up to see just who this man with the celebrity voice was.</p>
<p>It took me a few seconds to accept it as real. He was there, right in front of me as clear as day and as happy as he always seemed to be on television. I'm talking about the 6 time snooker world champion Ray Reardon. As a young lad I would watch his snooker battles on the miniature black and white television that I had in my bedroom. I watched enough snooker on the black and white television that I could differentiate the coloured balls by the differing shades of black and white on offer.</p>
<p>I would sit for hours listening to whispering Ted Lowe giving the commentary as the players smoked and drank whiskey, beer, tea, water or whatever they wanted. Incredibly in those days, the commentator would actually be sat among the crowd and would have to whisper the commentary into the microphone so as not to disturb the players. These days of course, the commentators sit in a sound proofed booth and can scream and shout all they like in there without any concern for the players as they go about their business.</p>
<p>I always liked snooker because it is hard. It is a very challenging game requiring superhuman levels of concentration and skill at the top level. Anyone could play pool it seemed. Sometimes I would lose games of pool against people that were nowhere near as good as I was. Pool seemed unfair and too much was left to chance. A game of pool would be over in just a few minutes whereas a game of snooker would take up to an hour and almost invariably the best player would win.</p>
<p>Ray Reardon was a gentleman. I wanted him to be my grandad and like some other lads my age, I idolised the man. He would swagger around the table as though he didn't have a care in the world. He knew he was the best and if he wasn't the best on the day, he would graciously shake the hand of his opponent and congratulate him. He would entertain the crowd occasionally with an impromptu piece of humour such as a silly impression of one of the other players or have a good laugh about an outrageous piece of good or bad fortune. He was the crowd favourite and one of those people who you would never hear a bad word spoken about. He dominated snooker during the 1970's where he won all of his 6 world titles. Indeed he was the king of snooker until a new group of young players led by Steve Davis and Jimmy White emerged in the 1980's.</p>
<p>Jimmy White would become my new favourite player throughout the 1980's and after him in the 1990's came another new favourite, the magical Ronnie O' Sullivan who incredibly, sits atop of the game to this day and remains my favourite. Sure I did dump Ray as my favourite player but father time catches up with us all and as Ray retired I needed to find a new hero. I'm sure most of you have your favourite sports and sports stars and I'm sure that most of you will have that special place in your hearts for the first favourite. The one who entertained you and got you interested in their particular sport.</p>
<p>So when I saw Ray Reardon standing at the bar I was most definitely a little star struck. Everyone else just carried on about their business as normal. To them, Ray Reardon was just a bloke at the bar who had been good at snooker a long time ago. But to me, Ray was a living legend. He still is. He's 85 now and still going strong.</p>
<p>I still couldn't quite believe it and had to check with the people around the table that indeed it was Ray Reardon that was standing at the bar. They confirmed that it was Ray and that he had been doing a snooker exhibition right there on the holiday camp that night. Somehow I had managed to not find out about this until after the event. Instead I'd been down 'The Thatch' pub in the village and drunk 5 pints of bitter. Looking at Ray, I guessed that he'd also had at least 5 pints to drink. He was his usual boisterous self but with an added slur that I'd never heard on TV.</p>
<p>I was gutted that I'd missed his exhibition and had probably missed a golden opportunity to have a game against my idol and a former multiple world champion. I needed to at least meet him and shake his hand so I grabbed my crusty cheese fritter and walked over to introduce myself. Someone else was just buying Ray another pint as I approached. 'Hi Ray, it's a pleasure to meet you,' I said as I held out my hand. He almost fell over as he lifted his right arm from the bar to shake my hand. I nearly shit myself thinking he was going to fall over and smash his head on the brass foot rail but he regained his balance just in time and managed to shake my hand whilst slurring the words 'Thank you young man...likewise' as he beamed that genuinely friendly smile that he does. 'I'm sorry I missed your exhibition earlier. I've only just found out about it and I work here on camp. You were my favourite player when I was a kid. I would have loved to have been there. How did it go?' I said to him in a much more controlled and calm manner than I was expecting. He did a little snigger and leaned in a little before saying quietly 'Oh it's a lovely place this is. I enjoyed it and the drinks are good. Nice rooms too,' he answered as he grabbed another pint.</p>
<p>I really didn't know what to say at this point and blurted out 'How did you find the snooker room and the table?' Without hesitation he said 'Oh it was easy, there were plenty of people to show me the way' and then he started to laugh with the two other men who were stood at the bar listening in. I began to chuckle and was about to clarify myself when he said 'Oh I know what you mean of course. I thought it was lovely. The tables are nice and don't look like they get used very much. And the snooker room is lovely and quiet sat out there on it's own. It's a lot quieter than in here.'</p>
<p>It was quite noisy in the bar area. Staff mainly. All sat at a large table next to the bar area playing drinking games. This was often where I found myself during the week. I rarely found myself in the snooker room as not only was no one else really interested in snooker but there were far too many other distractions on and around the holiday camp to keep me happy.</p>
<p>'D'ya fancy a game Ray? Get out of this noisy bar for a bit,' I said without thinking and was embarrassed before I'd finished saying it. To my amazement he smiled warmly and said 'I think that's a splendid idea. Come on' as he grabbed his pint and turned for the door with a little spring in his step. 'See you in a bit' I said to the two men at the bar as we left for the snooker room.</p>
<p>The snooker room was on a different part of the holiday camp in a small detached building on a green in between some chalets. It was a short walk of no more than a couple of hundred metres. I realised I needed to grab my snooker cue from my room and mentioned to Ray that my room was on the way to the snooker room which it wasn't. We took the long way round and stopped at my room. Instead of waiting outside, he followed me in. I wasn't expecting this. On my door was a picture cut out of a cheeky British newspaper called the 'Sunday Sport'. The picture was of a large, leather clad dominatrix holding a whip and underneath I'd written the words 'Enter at your peril.'</p>
<p>I'm not sure if Ray noticed the dominatrix or not but he definitely noticed what was on the walls in my room. Over the course of the summer season I'd been buying the 'Sunday Sport' every week and cutting out the best pics for my walls. To entertain my friends more than anything else (yeah right). I would often get people come round for a look to see the latest additions to the wall or ceiling. It became a little pilgrimage for some people after a while as the installation took shape. He gave out a warm Welsh chuckle as he looked around. 'Blimey...do you want to swap rooms?' he asked me. 'No thanks Ray. Those rooms look like my Nan's decorated them,' I replied. 'Well your Nan's not decorated this room, that's for sure' he said as we both laughed.</p>
<p>I grabbed my trusty Jimmy White snooker cue from my wardrobe and we left the Sunday Sport girls to it. It was time to play pissed snooker against an even more pissed multiple world champion.</p>
<p>I knocked the lights on as we entered the room. I tried to do it in a way you might imagine Tom Cruise would do in 'The Color of Money.' I put my beer down on a small table. I tried to do it in a way that Alex Hurricane Higgins might do as he was about to show someone how to play snooker. I was entering match mode as I opened my cue case. Carefully and without touching the tip, I pulled out the top section of my cue. I held it as I carefully grabbed the bottom section from its velvet pocket. I lined up the two halves and began my mantras as I screwed the cue together, ready for battle on the baize.</p>
<p>I turned around with my assembled cue in one hand and my chalk in the other, ready to show the great Ray Reardon my serious game face. Ray was wobbling around near the club cue rack, trying to see which cue was the least damaged. It hadn't occurred to me that Ray didn't have his cue. I'd made him do a detour to my lady clad room to get my cue without thinking about Ray's cue. Bless him, he hadn't even mentioned it. I guess I just thought it was Ray Reardon so he's bound to have a cue. As though the snooker gods magically transported his cue around for him.</p>
<p>'We can share my cue if you like Ray' I offered as he shuffled through all of the crap cues in the rack. 'Oh no it's okay. You should always play with one cue each. Keep that cue in your hand ready to pounce on my mistakes,' he said cheerfully as he selected a bog standard one piece club cue with a plastic furrule and 11mm tip. There I was with my nice 2 piece cue with the brass ferrule, perfectly filed 9mm tip and best American chalk to go with it.</p>
<p>I was on my sixth pint and Ray had had at least a pint for each of his world titles. He was more drunk than I was and he was using a shit cue with crappy waxy club chalk. I smelt blood as I set up the reds. Ray was smiling as he set up the baulk colours and with a gentlemanly handshake we got the game underway.</p>
<p>Ray insisted that I break off and I did so without hesitation. I made a fine break, leaving the cue ball just a few inches from the top cushion. Ray had a long red available into the corner pocket. I looked at it and thought I would pot that ball about 1 in 10. Ray got down with his shitty cue and knocked it in as though it was the easiest shot I could have left him. The cue ball floated around the back of the reds and came to a stop just beyond the centre of the table, perfectly on the blue.</p>
<p>It would be about 5 or 6 minutes before I would hit another ball as Ray went on to knock up an impressive 56 break with the shitty cue, shitty chalk and over 6 pints in him. It was as good as anyone had ever played against me and I was stunned. A professional player would be thinking that he still had a chance at 56 points behind but I knew all too well that there was no way I would be able to overturn a deficit like that. My highest break was only 67 and that was when I was sober.</p>
<p>He toyed with me from then on. Missing a few on purpose just to let me have a go at the table. I didn't mind at all. It was great to spend a little time with such a wonderful man. He gave me a few tips about my stance and how I struck the ball. I never did get any better though. To be as good as Ray Reardon you have to devote your life to the game and that sort of thing is just not for me. I'm far too easily distracted.</p>
<p>We finished the game after twenty minutes or so and walked back over to the bar where Ray had another couple of pints waiting for him. He rejoined the two men at the bar and I joined my friends at the staff table and told them all about how I beat the great Ray Reardon.</p>
<p>I do hope you have enjoyed this tale.</p>
<p>Stay tuned for more upcoming stories.</p>
<p>Until then, may your balls always hit the centre of your pockets.</p>
<p><strong>STEEMONKEY</strong>🐒</p>
<p><em><strong>Previous confessions</strong></em></p>
<p>https://steemit.com/comedyopenmic/@steemonkey/confessions-from-a-holiday-camp-tango-unchained-comedy-open-mic-round-18-entry-2</p>
<p>https://steemit.com/comedy/@steemonkey/confessions-from-a-holiday-camp</p>
<p>https://steemit.com/comedy/@steemonkey/confessions-from-a-holiday-camp-the-uv-light-show</p>
<p>https://steemit.com/comedyopenmic/@steemonkey/confessions-from-a-holiday-camp-mushroom-madness</p>
<p>https://steemit.com/funny/@steemonkey/confessions-from-a-holiday-camp-an-introduction</p>
<p><br></p>
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@grammarnazi ·
Minor Correction
You have a minor grammatical mistake in the following sentence: <blockquote> And the snooker room is lovely and quiet sat out there on it's own.</blockquote> It should be <i>its own</i> instead of <i>it's own</i>.
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@steemonkey · 
Yep...fair play...happy with only the one :)
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@steevc · 
What an amazing way to meet one of your heroes. I remember watching Ray as a kid. There were some real characters back then. Seems he could focus on the game even when drunk. I bet you don't even have a picture from that meeting. Did you get an autograph?
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@steemonkey ·
$0.08
It was great pal. No picture and I forgot to get an autograph. Too much ale I suppose. I should've gotten him to sign one of the girls in my room. They used to drink while they played back in the day though so I suppose he was fairly used to it. I bet he did plenty of exhibitions and got bought plenty of beers over the years.
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@steevc · 
Congratulations on the big votes this post got
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@slobberchops ·
$0.07
A great story again! I don't think I would have the balls to approach one of my heroes, though 6 pints down would help somewhat.
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@steemonkey ·
$0.04
I think the 6 pints was key. I would have been way too afraid to ask him for a game without them. I would have probably just said hello and walked away otherwise.
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@curie ·
Congrats on a Curie vote!
Hi steemonkey,
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Your post  has been upvoted by the Curie community curation project and associated vote trail as exceptional content (human curated and reviewed).  Keep creating awesome stuff! Have a great day :) <br>
 
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@steemonkey · 
Wonderful, thank you :)
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@fictionspawn · 
Sounds like a good sport, Ray. Must have been quite a night. I actually never played snooker, though I would like to. Biliard I've played a bt, but not enough to become any good. Still fun, though. Great story, and congrats on the Curie! Well deserved!
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@steemonkey · 
Thanks pal. It was a bit dreamy at times. A surreal and wonderful experience :)
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promoted0.000 SBD
body_length79
author_reputation3,098,211,852,986
root_title"Confessions from a Holiday Camp - The Potty Piss Up"
beneficiaries[]
max_accepted_payout1,000,000.000 SBD
percent_steem_dollars10,000
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