A boules night out

Due to lack of creative response from the wider community to the epidemic of boules sweeping the nation (admitting you've got an addiction is the first step to boulecovery, don't deny it), the team here at boules etcetera set out on Friday night to inspire what we believe to be a community of closet boules players...ofcourse we had to drink (a bit) so our boule-like cover would not be blown.

After several drinks, we felt confident that we had successfully entered the psyche of the drunkard...in fact we were pretty confident about just about everything (almost as if these unfamiliar beverages had granted us superhuman abilities...). Varied responses were given to the question of "what makes you passionate about boules" including
-"Get fucked"
-"What the fuck are you talking about"
-"No I'm not going to lick your balls"
and perhaps the most infuriating-"Isn't it called Bocce"

Clearly the team wasn't going to make too much progress with these troublesome and hard of hearing youths. But not disheartened, the young Boulenator was heard to remark: "lets get some absinthe", resulting in him getting thoroughly tanked. After this potent brew, he found he could not contain his wiley ways, dashing to an unknown location and confounding his two drunken compatriots.

But the Bouleshark and Michael were in the mood for celebration, because they too were quite pissed, and found themselves on a strangely enchanted dancefloor. Although they were quite certain they had very little dancing knowledge, skill, ability or co-ordination, they found as soon as they stepped upon the dancefloor's mystical boards, god-like powers were granted to them. Soon all the public could do was to watch and be amazed by the dynamic duo's unearthly talents. Moves such as "the robot", the "funky chicken" and the lesser known "spastic monkey" were unleashed upon the dumbstruck audience until it was deemed that it was time... to leave that magical place and return to the slightly less magical Wangi Wangi.

And as the team sped back into the night on their rocket powered toboggans, they reflected upon the sadness that their bouley dreams may never come to be...The night, a defeat for boule-kind, but a triumphant victory for dancing