Sominex on Ice

Game Report
November 22, 2007

Strawbs 8 Thrashers 3


As Billie Shakespeare, the Strawbs' publicist, scandal extinguisher and poet laureate, so aptly put it after dozing through last night’s yawner : “ It was a tale told by an idiot, unfull of sound and fury, signifying nothing.” The game was so dull, so lifeless, so excrutiatingly stultifying that the puck left the ice after the first shift. The referees refused to blow their whistles under any circumstances and instead spent most of their energies imploring the timekeeper to remove all but 2minutes from the official game clock. The opposition yawned and lazily braided each other’s hair while the Strawbs listened half-heartedly to the Ice Marshall as he tried to rouse them with selected excerpts from Proust’s Remembrance of Things Past. The narrowcasting of the match to the Aloha Baby Compound in Oahu did not reach its intended destination because the electrons carrying the signal gave up just outside Vancouver, paralyzed, like Buren's Ass, between Apathy and Indifference.

The air stagnated under the unbearable weight of the overbearing boredom. Planets ceased moving and Lindsay Lohan checked into the Betty Ford for the seventh time this week, her will sapped by an uncaring universe. Aqualung, our friend, started away uneasy. Supertramp took the long way home. It was the day the mu…sic died.

The Strawbs profoundly apologize to its fan, the constant Samara Desert, victim of icehockeynarcolepsy, who had to be revived after the game by using a Stunner 500, the cardiac zapper recently installed in the lobby of Pete Palangio arenas for just such an eventuality.

At the Terminal Tavren, 2 kegs of Guinness refused to be tapped. The preternaturally irritating Mair, Devil’s Spawn,Brat Extraordinaire and Waitress From Hell, could not even be bothered to curl her upper lip. Management shut the lights out at 11pm without so much as a “by your leave”. The team went home sober for the first time in Strawbs’ history. But who cares?