Balls Too!

Balls, the story so far.................

"Right, nothing else for it but to engage in some sporting activities with the peep. Lets have a look in my diary and see whats coming up in the calendar for this year.....

Hmm maybe best to skip January as far too dark and cold. Ah-ha I've got it, February is Super Bowl month. I'll play some football..."

Sometime later, in February........


"What Ho, peep. Today we'll be playing football, American football that is, so I expect you to get padded up and ready to go in 5 minutes, and before you ask, no there isn't padding for you derriere, I think it's quite capable of protecting itself."

AND..............

"And wheres the ball? I told you to bring a ball not a pack of premium pork sausages....

Now look, peep, when they said 'pigskin' they weren't referring to sausages, no matter how tasty, they wouldn't last a time out, let alone a first down!"

                                                          ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And now, for your cinematographic delight in glorious TC™ & DMS™ (Tuxedo Colour, and Dubious Meowround Sound),  Albert R. Nipolli presents:-

Balls Too,  the squeakuel! 

Sometime later,  in June.......



What Ho, peep ol' bean, anyone for Tennis? I've got my best white fluffy bits on, and I'm ready to rumble! But that shouldn't put you off as the rumbling will stop once I've had lunch!

Now what do you say? A quick knock up on the front lawn is just what the Dr ordered, and if you put that protective clothing on I'm sure you won't feel a thing, but I have got you a racket to use this time and the Tennis Association assures me that catching the ball in your teeth isn't necessary these days.

No? Oh well, I shall just watch the highlights on TV. Wimbledon was soo exciting, and I just love to see those brightly coloured balls flying around the place.

I just can't help but think they're missing a trick though. I mean if they took that net out the way it would be way easier and they could just roll them balls around, like they do in bowls. And if you loaded each ball with a mouse you could get them to do all the leg work and the players could have a break and put their feet up. The winner could be first player to get their mouse powered ball to the far side.

Now I know what you're thinking, that sounds way too easy, and quick, so I've come up with the perfect plan.... Ball Dogs. Yup, instead of Ball Girls, we could have Ball Dogs whose job it is to chase the balls and return them to the owners before the mice cross the line. Of course each player provides their own Ball Dog, and they'll need to redesign the court to allow for fire hydrants and trees for the dogs but they could act as obstacles, them and the water and bowls, and the Umpires Cat Tree.

Whats that peep, you fancy the Open Golf? Really? I never thought of you as that sort of person. I know the Germans make great cars, but convertibles play havoc with the hair not to mention the seagulls around here would just love to......

Whats that peep?  Oh I see you mean hitting that small white ball into the hole sort of 'Golf'. Gotcha, well if you fancy a walk around the grounds there are a fair few mole holes you could use. In fact I dare say we could make 139 hole course no problem. And if we leave the mounds of soil around the hole we can up the difficulty level too.

But I will need to get some special safety gear made, fluorescents and hard hats, in teeny tiny size for the moles in the holes, I wouldn't want them being injured now. Of course I might meet with some mole community objections, but if I offer free membership and own nightclub facility and the right to 'Play Through' at night, as I believe the expression goes, I should be able to swing it.

And whats this with all the clubs they carry around with themselves? I only have one set of claws, with extensions for social events, so why don't they have just one club? I mean if they cant reach the holes then surely they need to be moving them closer?

Mind you, getting rid of clubs could have an adverse impact on employment in the golfing world. Drivers would be forced to take up taxi work, and the Irons would need to go back to to doing laundry. As to the Putters, well they could resort to putting themselves about a bit, doing the odd DIY putty jobs for pin money until as those Olympics games came round every fourth year.

And as for the caddies, well seems like they have quite a job. Not only do they look after the tea, but they have to advise as to the correct place to hit the ball, and what colour and clothes to wear!

Not that colour choice would be an issue for you, peep ol' chubby one, they do a lovely range of size Plus Fours, Plus Sixes and even Plus Eights! I think the latter is really only for the likes of our Kraken though.

Anyways, for all that advice, and selection of metal sticks, the golfers still seem manage to lose their balls. So I think I have come up with a solution, string, string tied to the balls!

Not that I invented string, heck no, that was some very smart kitty way back when, who wanted something to give their peep to play with. Knitted from mouse fur I think the first ones were.

And so a whole industry in a cottage was born. Alas that cat's peeps rather got the wrong end of that string and used it for other things, leaving the kitty out without a toy for their peep to play with him with.

Now it wasn't until a the invention of lengths of wool by a bored indoor cat called Tweed, from the Isle of Harris, Harris Tweed to his mates, that things started to take off again, and cats once more had something to engage their peeps with.



Such was the demand for this new toy among the local cats, that Tweed used to send his peep out selling these lengths of wool for a penny-mouse a time. For convenience and display purposes that peep used to hang the lengths from his waist belt. News spread, and soon he could be seen roaming the highlands and islands, the multicoloured threads dangling in the breeze, a quality that also served to deflecting the local midge population.

And so my pals, the kilt was born, from a humble toy to midge repelling skirt.

Now as that there kilt didn't have any pockets, the mouses had to be kept in a small leather pouch worn around the waist. But, I hear you say, what if there were more sales than normal, where would the mice be put?

A good question in deed, and the simple answer was stockings. Yup, on a good day, and when the sporran's capacity was exceeded, the peep could stash the mice down his stockings, hence the need for the garters around the top.

Of course that practice wasn't without its risks especially if the mice broke loose and ran up the threads, as mice are want. Rumour has it that it was one such incident that gave rise to what later became called the Highland Fling!

Now back to the game at paw and those golfers, do you think they'd be happy with a piece of string tied to their balls, should they get lost?

Or should it be wool? I could do some wool, far less hassle and I've a huge selection to choose from for the well dressed golfer, angora, cashmere, argyle and even some silk. Of course we'd have to charge according to length, a mouse a yard seems reasonable with a discount for cheap acrylic threads.

What say you peep,  this is an ideal opportunity to get rid of all those old garish seventies and eighties tank tops and those cardigans that are issued when you become a pensioner!

Of course there is one small task you will have to do in return for this participating in my money making scheme... how do you feel about mouses down your stockings?





                                                       To be continued..............



A special thank you to Bionic Basil's PA, and some very brave mice, for undertaking the reenactment of this highland kilt tale.

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