Onto Thursday ..... which I quickly re-named 'Mirror Image Turdsday'.
Entering the Hallowed Halls, I assumed Dr Who had been busy with his Tardis - the field before me was virtually the same as the night before .... only Cashstruck Calenti was in absentia (obv taking his cleaning lady out for yet another Gordon Blue Nosh Up at Nandos).
The Sicilian's Style Guru - Mrs Pham - was dressed resplendently. Rarely have I seen that many diamante sparkly things concentrated in one area .... enough to obliterate from view an entire Dean Morris nipple.
Unfortunately she took off her sunglasses, and fantasies of dallying with a pert young SE Asian Goddess on the banks of a moonlit Mekong were - almost - replaced with a desire to trip the Closet Fantastic with an - ageing - former GUKPT Champ.
Into the fray, and Puss Hansen assumed his rightful role as Table Captain – the mere fact that he was on a different table twenty feet away was of little consequence to him … his real name is Eric, which seemed appropriate (thumbnail worn down to the quick, no respite in sight).
Eric may have been out of range but his Portugoose younger half (witted) brother had circumvented the submarine nets to pop up on my table …. And was about as welcome as a fart in a diving suit.
His sing song non stop commentary/analysis in LuMediteraenish resulted in Loofah getting to level 4 before contemplating suicide …. Eric can achieve the same result in under 30 minutes (you can’t beat British craftsmanship)!
Pham Man (a pre-Neolithic ancestor of Non Upright St Neot’s Man) spent the first two levels flat calling any raise/re-raise with marginally awful hands, with no little success …. Correction, with little success - was variance finally about to catch up with the Rangoon Rollercoaster?.
Loofah – with A K of shovels – over raises in EP …. Only four flatted behind!
Pham Man can’t get his stack in fast enough on a 10 high two spade flop … Loofah couldn’t either.
A welcome King on the turn, and I’m home … surely?
Nope, river pairs the dangler 6 on the board, and Phamtastic’s shove with 9 6 off win’s the day (Wifey Pham dashed over from an adjacent table, and jumped for Noy).
Down, but not out, Our Hero ground away like a groundy thing and recovered a playable pile in time to observe the legend that is Pham’s next coup.
EP raise, (standard flattedy flat), the Asian Tiger roared and shoved the lot in.
Dwellety call, (standard) Dwellety Dwellety call …. And Saigon’s finest looked happier than Chairman Moa nationalising a coalmine against AK x 2 on a three brick board with his Gorgeous Geishas regally in command.
The turn and river conspired to give the disgusting Villains a most unlikely Wheel apiece.
Aghast, My Hero turned to me - pointing at the board - and screeched, “Rook a Rat!”
Checking to see if Mr Pham had unwrapped a packed lunch from one of his restaurants – I mentally ‘Googled’ his exclamation – understood - and shamelessly pretended to commiserate, whilst trying not to go into laughter convulsions.
“How can these peeps get so lucky”, was my consoling whoosh as the Phamquished staggered away from the battlefield, in total disarray.
Not much fun after that – Portuguese Pedro told me how lucky I was that my tripped up pocket eights beat his A J on an A high board …. I smirked.
I had the balls to jam A 9 of shovels UTG with Edna in the BB on the FT.
Said gonads were surgically removed in double quick time by Her Evilness.
So it was off to gather a min cash from the desk ….. or, as I like to call it, a Chompy Flag.
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