own goal

Is it me or are all my mates a french-frie short of a happy meal? I know I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed, I do, honestly, but just listen to this … i was bored shitless yesterday so I went and watched my mate dazza play football for his pub side. Now dazza's not your run of the mill idiot, he's more sort of subtly daft if you get my drift, or at least that was what I thought until yesterday when there was plainly zero subtleness to his actions. The daz-man is someone I don't see that often. He used to live local but had it on his toes to canvey island about 3 years back. He called me Saturday night out the blue and told me he was playing nearby the next day and I was welcome to pop by and cheer him on. I said no because to be honest I couldn’t be fucked. Then he told me there was a cheap bar at the ground so realising how selfish I was being I had no option but to change my mind and say yes. I wish I hadn't. And I wish he hadn't introduced me to his team-mates before the game either. After what he done I felt daft for just knowing him. To be fair to him … he left it late on before bungling things up. with the score at 3-3 late in the second half, dazza's team - 'the Royal Oak', - were just starting to get into their stride, pile on a bit of pressure, when the opposition, 'the swan', broke through on the counter attack. They sent a long ball souring over the heads of the two centre backs leaving the left back, which just so happened to be the daz-meister, as the only remaining defender. Dazza seemed to read the pass well and he pounced on the striker who panicked and quickly tried to lob the keeper from distance. The bloke miss-hit completely and the ball floated up in the air harmlessly for dazza to head to safety. Dazza though had other plans and for reasons known only to himself he decided that that would be a good time to head the ball over his own goalkeepers head. But even then it appeared the gods were smiling and had decided to give dazza a reprieve, a chance to save himself and his team from certain defeat because as the ball floated over the keepers head it was quickly apparent that it was going to fall a few feet short of goal. And seeing as dazza, aka billy whizz, had the striker beat for pace by about a yard it looked a cert he'd reach the ball and blast it to safety. But why play things simple when you can make a total cunt of yourself. Blast the ball to safety? Not me thinks the dazster and with a dopey jump he stumbled and headed the ball into the roof of his own net. me, his stunned team mates and the touchline spectators looked on in disbelief. After 10 mins we realised jeremy beadle wasn’t going to show up and this wasn’t a laugh. I don't know if dazza went to the pub after. he probably did knowing him. I didn't.

ok. it's only a football match i hear you say, and not even an important one at that, but that's besides the point. the point i'm trying to make here is that this is not a one off event. It’s not. i've been looking closely at my life in the past few weeks and what might seem an insignificant and trivial event to the likes of you is, to me, painfully further indication that all of my friends are arseholes.