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How Saturday was just too too much for Mark H
By Raz Jnr November 11 2002
The bet: The outcome of the match between the Tigers and the BPs would decide whether Zara D would have to suffer the unbearable humiliation of wearing a revolting Saints shirt with its LSD style colour coordination or Mark H would have to wear my 9 year old sister's turquoise ballet tutu.

I was minding my own business on Tuesday evening doing my homework on the history of the world's smallest books. I nominated the Black Pigs book of trophy polishing but dad says it should be the Budge Pountney book on how to stay onside.

Anyway, Dad says Den1se had issued an order to produce a tutu banner for Saturday. Now, I have met Den1se and she is one scary lady. She is meaner than my geography teacher. She should have been a dog trainer in real life. When she says "Heel" you just say "Left heel or right heel ma' am?" So I made a banner. Stopsy had done a cracking blue print.

Stopsy's original artwork

Raz Jnrs finished banner

We kept the banner hidden as we went into the ground along with the tutu. It was classily hidden though, in a Harrods bag. Dad says they don't search Harrod's bags. I trusted him because he had smuggled bottles of wine into the HC final in Cardiff when everyone else had theirs confiscated.

Dad says it was important not to tempt fate. He explained that all week some cerebrally challenged( what does that mean?) BP supporters had been shooting their mouths off. Saying things like the tiger supporters would want to leave early, that Ben Kay and Tim Stimpson would be crying on the England bench when news of a Tigers defeat came through.

He explained the psychology of it to me. He says if deep down you know you are no good you shoot your mouth of before the game because you know you won't be able to do so after. It's like not buying a dummy in a match, dad says you end up looking like one if you do.

But when Josh scored to make the match safe dad went potty. He took the tutu out, stood up and started waving it at the terraces. Everyone thought he was mental. I wanted to be somewhere else. Dad then calmed down when he saw loads of Saints fans leaving EARLY and started snapping them." Every time they try that one on us in future we'll just put up the photos," he said. I started singing "Oh when the Saints went crawling out" but dad made me stop because he wanted to live long enough to see Mark H become St. Tutu.

We carried the banner high as we walked to the Tetleys bar. We got weird looks from the stewards , a cheer from a huddle of Tiger supporters and a chorus of "Leicester Tigers suck" from some little piglets. "Why isn't their dad telling them off?" I asked. "What you have to understand " said dad " is that round here they have the manners of pigs."

When we got into the Tetleys bar dad held up the banner real high to cause the maximum embarrassment to Mark H. "Lets go somewhere more comfortable" he wriggled squirmily. "Here is fine " said Den1se and Mark H hadn't got the bottle to argue with her. Dad pinned the tutu on him saying "I dub thee Saint Tutu ( and a good sport)" I took a picture, indeed , I took two two pictures.

Mark_H models the tutu in the Tetley's bar

We then walked through Northampton to find ajack. What is my dad like? There was a bus in St. James road with loads of people in it but it wasn't moving. He put the banner against a window of the bus and shouted in "Hey. There is a Saints fan wearing a tutu here". Mark H protested " But my mum is just there". Zara D said "Razcal you are truly evil." He seemed to think this was a compliment.

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