  -Well, another Sunday, another fucking ridiculous hangover. At least this weekend, it was in a good cause – Titch’s stag do. Plus, thanks to the day’s activities, I had other pains to help me through the day. First up, we went paintballing in Bradford.
After Titch finally arrived, we ended up with 13 players (Me, Titch, Jarratt, Inno, Wraggamuffin, Dave Benson, two of Titch’s mates, Olwen’s brother and four fifteen year old kids who happened to come in at the same time) split between two teams and went off into battle. Straight away, I noticed two problems which would limit my success: Glasses, which constantly steamed up I wasn’t on the same side as Dan “Rambo” Wragg and Dave “Columbine Student” Benson The first game really set the standard for my day.
I was blinded within 30 seconds due to a shot to my visor (not a kill shot). I then went forward blinded and ended up surrounded. After a shot to my arm, I stood with arm and gun in the air (the single for “I’m dead, don’t fucking shoot me”) and, of course, took about ten shots in the chest, back and arms. Twats. Pretty much, our team got twatted, to the point that the two fifteen year olds on our side got shellshock and spent two games just hiding in the base before sitting out the last free for all game.
Well, after all of this, I will now give you the A-MOL guide to being shot. If I were shot, I would rather be shot… …in the calf. While trying to move forward in the Capture The Flag game, I went to slide across an opening where I knew there was a shooter, due to Jarratt getting taken out approx.
10 seconds in. I nearly made it, but realise the small bump on the back of my leg meant I was out. I almost didn’t notice it. If I were shot, I would rather avoid being shot… …in the sternum. The last game, someone shot me right in the middle of the chest. It practically knocked me off my feet and I was breathless for a good half a minute. The worst way to avoid being shot is… …to approach a blind corner where Rambo and Columbine Student are waiting, firing blindly at them, and then screaming “Don’t shoot, I’m out of paint!” while curled up in the foetal position as they fire back.
And then it was into Leeds for a meal at Chris D’s Restaurant, Brio. It was a nice meal at quite a reasonable price, only ruined by the fact that that Ginger Bo Selecta Twat was on an opposite table. The sight of the fat dwarf was nearly enough to put me off my Penne Arribiata, but not quite due to spending the day running about like a cunt in an overall.
To be honest, I don’t remember much of the bar crawl, but I remember padlocked pants, giving my coat to a couple of girls who’d gone out semi-naked in zero degree temperatures, Uriah Rennie is a twat and a bloke getting his cock out and waving it in people’s faces. Dan Wragg also tells me that there were midgets involved. I also managed the Lloyd-esque achievement of losing my wallet. Luckily, the taxi company had it. So, Sunday involved me sleeping until two, eating a packet of paracetamol and finding bruises from paintballs all over my body. I have about five on my scalp, which with a hangover, made washing my hair a fun experience. No Gigli – there’s only so much my body can take.
-[insert Leedsshit macro here]. I will say this, though – Lloyd, I am right about them missing Rio. The minute they play a team that can defend, Wes Brown is going to be exposed as a useless little shit. There was a nice football story this weekend – Oldham Athletic. After nearly going out of business, they had “Celebration Sunday”, in which the new owners let everyone in to the game FOR FREE to say thanks for their support.
The Oldham players responded to this by winning 6-0. Nice one. -Because I'm bored, and felt like a good ol' stereotypical Japan joke... Is it just me, or does it look like Dan is the part that's been added to the pic? 
