22nd October 2001
Wherever you are in the world, it pays to have hard friends. Take my flat-mate for instance. The first thing to say is that he is a really nice guy. Vaguely reminiscent of James Harley, except about 6’3” and made of muscle, not kebabs. He would have joined the marines if he hadn’t got into Stanford. You now understand why I stress that he is a nice guy. It is because he could snap me in two in the blink of an eye. Yet I still only continue on the assumption that he will probably never read this. He is, of course, highly intelligent. It is just that, looking like Harley, he looks pretty dumb. He also comes from the Deep South and speaks with a Southern drawl. He also speaks slowly, as many people from the South do. He will henceforth be known as Forrest Gump.

Hard people litter the Philosophy Department too. The head of dept. wrestled for his university as a student. There is a third year PhD student who is a 1st Dan black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Then there is Logic Girl. All accusations that have been leveled at me for being too Spock-like evaporate at the slightest glance from her. She is here to study Logic, and is Vulcan through and through. She is a 3rd Dan black belt in Tae Kwon Do.

All this became relevant after my desire to play football finally resulted in a philosophy dept kick-a-round. I very quickly wished that I’d foreseen that I was persuading Americans to play ‘soccer’. Dear Lord! – I hadn’t seen a bigger bunch of cripples since the opening ceremony of the paralympic games. Just when I was hoping something would happen, it did. In the distance, a couple of grey flecks appeared and disappeared in a flash. I noticed for the first time all the trees seemed to be too still. No birds, so songs. I looked into the branches. A glimpse of a tail here, a glint of a tiny eye there. In a flash, I filled with panic. Could it really be? Could they have followed me to America? I stared through a gap in the branches. There was a gray patch. But it seemed to be too big?! Then suddenly I remembered Justin’s match report. There were GIANT psycho squirrels. He thought they’d grown. He was wrong. They’d emigrated.

I kicked myself for not having realized before now the truth was so obvious. First, everything in America eventually comes to Britain. Second, what do psycho-squirrels feed on? – Small boys. And this was America. There aren’t any small boys over here. They’re all big, fat, or both. The squirrels must have got big on all the smallish fat kids that lived in America in the 1980’s. But it had gone too far for even the (now giant) psycho-squirrels. Families had left to pick off the small boys they’d heard about in Europe. And it was they who were giving the 5th team grief in London. But I had no time to worry about that. I was facing an unprecedented situation. An army of giant psycho-squirrels, half-starved and desperate to do anything for food. This time, no-one was safe. We couldn’t just throw a small boy at them and run like buggery. Small boys are extinct on this continent. It was me, 7 of my philosopher friends, and what looked like a small regiment (10-15) of giant psycho-squirrels. It was time for the Greatest Battle of my Life.

Next installment – The Greatest Battle of my Life.

Competition – Can you correctly name the famous battle from which the tactics I used are drawn? Hint: The clue is in the question.

Winner receives a tiny (1/2”) copper plate carefully inscribed with the Senate House on one side and a profile of George Washington on the other. Runner-up receives two tiny (1/2”) copper plates carefully inscribed with the Senate House on one side and a profile of George Washington on the other.

Answers to dbradley81@hotmail.com or Sausage Dog, Stanford, CA, Dog’s World.