Sunday, August 21, 2005
So I went to my friend Chris's Stag Party, and marvellous it was. The evening debauchery is obviously not for public consumption, so instead let's head to our daytime entertainment: Paintball. Now, I've never played before, but was thoroughly looking forward to it. For anyone who's never even heard of it, it's basically war but replace the bullets with little plastic balls full of paint. Two teams then battle it out in England's green and pleasant land. If you get hit, the paint simulates the blood and you're out. Game over. Then you do it again. And again.
Having not played before, I very much fell into the rookie role that we've seen in every war movie ever. I was brimming with enthusiasm, as the more experience members of my troop look at me with patriarchal pride, and a certain misty eyed sadness as they remembered the naive excitement of their first time on the battlefield. I showed them photos of my young fiance, Wanda-May, who i was going to marry as soon as I got back to Arkansas. My pop had told me it'd all be over by Christmas "Ain't that right, Captain Johnson?" "Sure thing Bobby." He ruffled my hair, as we moved out to face the enemy. There we were, Jimbo, Rubberneck, Fingers The Medic, Flexo, me and Cap'n "Ironballs" Johnson. I had the photo of the 6 of us taken when we first landed on shore, faces so full of hope, clutched in my hand as the bullets started to rain down on us. Charlie was everywhere, in the grass, in the trees, round the back of the tuck shop. We didn't stand a chance.
Yeah, just like every other rookie ever, I was blown away in the first reel. Every time. Cries of "BOBBY! NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" reverberated across the countryside, startling sheep and middle aged ramblers. And I tell you what, plastic they may be, but those paintballs bloody hurt...
It's fair to say that you couldn't help by treat the whole thing like a movie. And here's just a short list of the films and TV shows we quoted or imitated or sung songs from almost continually throughout the day, which readily confirms that underneath everything, all men are basically gun toting maniacs waiting to happen.
For A Few Dollars More
Bridge Over The River Kwai
The Deer Hunter
From Dusk Til Dawn
Full Metal Jacket
Stop Or My Mom Will Shoot
The Man With No Name
Good Morning Vietnam
Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrells
Let Him Have It
And so so many more, along with choice episodes of Futurama, The Simpsons and, of course, Spaced... 'You've got an answer for everything....'
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