Oh yeah I forgot to mention this..... GBOS is in a nice part of town just about half a mile from where I live in Langdon Hills, Essex. Have a look at the link below which'll take you to multimap.com this is my road and if you zoom in you'll see the football field next to the woods where I live and that's Local Field. But if you move to the left of where I live about half a mile looking out for "Forest Glade" you'll see another field and that the one I refer to as GBOS Great Berry Open Space and you'll notice it's slap bang in the middle of a new private estate that we call "Stepford" because all the women look like Stepford Wives or as if they've just stepped off of the set of that program on Channel 4 about Californian Wives.
So - it's quite nice in an Essex kind of way, slightly red around the neck but not too bad and they all think they're a cut above the rest of the people in the area, but to be honest they're mostly Noveau Riche East End diaspora that got rich off of the back of Thatcher, so not really kind of my people. But they like their semi detached suburbia and at the moment it's all very white and West Ham Football club so things tick along nicely.
Trouble is some of them get it all wrong and forget where they are now and revert back to type and so today one of these gormless idiots turned up on GBOS with a Farmers motorbike thing - you know a motorbike with four chunky wheels. No helmet and his leg in plaster and his stupid blonde wife/girlfriend on the back. The peaceful scene - Oak trees and spring - song thrushes singing in the bushes suddenly disturbed by a 400cc bike thing revving and roaring away. Everyone on the field stops as he gets their attention. His girlfriend gets off the back and then he pulls a few doughnuts tearing the field to shreds as he does so. Then he revs it up again and wheel spins away - grass and turf flying out the back and by now - I'm in Victor Meldew mode reaching for my phone and cursing because it's not charged and I've left it at home! I have visions of this berk flying round the field onto my square tearing it up ruining the whole place that the council look after so well. Then he roars off again having just pulled a big broadside skid in the corner of the field that gets very wet and is obviously still sticky. But now he heads out into the middle of the field which has dried out and is obviously faster to drain, he turns the handle bars breaks and tries to pull another big but faster broadside. The tyres don't skid instead they grip and catapault this idiot through the air with the bike thing spinning through the air tumbling over and over just behind him. He hits the ground crunch at high speed and the bike only just stops almost landing on him (I was gutted). But then he lays there and says something bravado in front of a bunch of young blokes that he was heading towards who were playing football. His dozy bird runs over to him and stays on the ground. Eventually he sits up obviously in shock and I then see that his collar bone is sticking out of his shoulder - but not having broken the skin. His elbow is shredded having hit the ground so hard and fast and a lovely warm feeling comes over me - there is justice sometimes on very rare occasions.