My Glorious Day at the WRIST!!!!

Today, I was off work!

Be careful not to tell anyone, for I have no defence. I called work and told them I was suffering from a trapped nerve in my neck. Having done this previously and legitimately, it had dawned on me that this was the ultimate excuse for gaining a day off work. One is incapacitated for only a morning with movement punishable by searing pain and a desire to die quickly and prematurely. The next day, a complete recovery manifests itself in a return to work where no-one can legally question the extent or even sincerity of your illness…

The reason for my somewhat desperate indulgence in unpaid sick leave is that Hong Kong – wonderful, weird, wacky and tacky Hong Kong is this week playing host to the world – WORLD – Simon Says Championships (or WRIST as they have been somewhat inexplicably and entirely inaccurately abbreviated). After my disastrous failed attendance at the World Hide and Seek Championships (Ironically and tragically, I couldn’t find the venue…) there was no way I was going to miss the opportunity to see one of the hallmark games of my childhood played out by the greatest professionals of the discipline.

The big news inside the arena was that the Belgians were once again refusing to participate, still apparently smarting from their two-year global ban for Simonsaying the Americans to dress innocent Muslim men in orange jumpsuits, illegally transport them 5000 miles around the word, torture them and hold them without trial before charging them with crimes confessed to under torture under U.S. laws despite their ‘criminal acts’ not being perpetrated on American soil or – necessarily – in a manner that would compromise American national security. As one fictitious competitor remarked:

“Ssh… Don’t tell anyone but I’m only here because I convinced these morons that “Arsemania” was a real country.

That was of course the best sound-bite achievable regarding the American situation as – as is well countenanced within this hallowed event – no-one talks to anyone immediately prior to competition. It is a time for setting the mind. The important attached to ‘setting the mind’ for such a competition is nothing but underlined by the cruel turn of events that conspired against imaginary legend of the sport Cesare Alberto Hidalgo Ramirez, whose extremely long name detracts from his extremely short fuse:

“You fuckers! Why won’t you fucking leave me alone! So I didn’t set the mind for that fucking competition and so became convinced that my face was made of cheese and tried to eat myself! We’ve all fucking done it you fucking cunts! I just happened to do it right after team Bosnia had Simonsaysed me to ‘be a mouse’. Now fuck off and leave me alone.”

There was little doubt about it. Beneath the exterior face wretched with reddened rage and fury lay the emotional testament to what befalls a man who fails to set the mind. Some would argue that this quote was the result of six weeks of constant haranguing and stalking but those same people could surely be harangued and stalked into realising that they were mistaken.

To the competition, where no less than seventy of the worlds nations were defeated by the application form on the basis that the section requesting their signature did not say Simon Says sign here. Their complaints fell on deaf ears, primarily because by sheer coincidence the entire judging panel for the competition suffered profoundly from deafness…

Another gigantic wedge of nations were wiped off the competitive map when they refused to wear seatbelts on the aircraft bringing them to Hong Kong as the announcement was not preceded by ‘Simon says”. An unusually bumpy flight put paid to their chances and they were ultimately concussed, unruly and jailed before being labelled ‘tragic’ by the South China Morning Post and ‘wankers’ by the unknowing and put upon flight crew.

With only two teams left in the tournament - England and Arsemania - it all came down to a single sentence uttered in the opening exchange of the match. The competitor for Arsemania (Climate – Windy; Population – Handsome) simply stood before the audience of 750,000 gripped spectators and bellowed:

“SIMON SAYS, ENGLISH GO HOME!”.

At great personal expense, the English team were forced to concede defeat as nobody – especially not deaf judges – could accept their return of fire over the phone from another country. Primarily because none of the judges could hear a thing. One of them thought he was being sibjected to static noise impersonations of former Coventry City goalkeeper and self-professed son of Gof, David Icke.

The victorious Arsmanian athlete, when asked to account for his brilliant ‘Simonsayance’ told the Liverpudlian reporter to go the fuck home and it was subsequently revealed that he was in fact a mad racist Scotsman, that the competition didn’t exist and was a complete waste of time attending or reading about and – more controversially – it was revealed that if indeed there ever were to be a Simon Says competition, no deaf persons would be invited to adjudicate.

And that my friends is a fucking sad sad indication of the times we live in…

*Source: Weber’s Bogus Almanac & Sundries “Simonsay – a verb used to convey the experience of a party being contracted towards a specific action by another party who have prefixed said action with the phrase Simon Says, as in “Simon Says, go fuck yourself”.