Chatty and his lady-friend looked up, but suspected nothing. A few shots later, and on Chatty’s serve, I let out a, ‘Baaaaaaaaa’. Again both looked up, but didn’t investigate. They must have thought it was normal, somehow. Meanwhile we were in that bush, shaking with laughter, trying to keep silent. We were like little school kids playing a prank, laughing so much it hurt, especially when, after Bernie’s attempt at some sort of bird noise, old ‘Slipmat’ (one of the many nicknames Chatty acquired) walked over to his lady-friend and said, ‘I think it’s a squirrel nest, they’re real pests.’
Poor Chatty, over the next thirty minutes that court heard the sounds of an elephant, a donkey, a monkey and, the last straw for both players, two fighting pigs. Chatty said later that he suspected we were involved, but he couldn’t see us, and had really thought his date was a secret. Little did he know a footballer and an unemployed labourer have plenty of time on their hands to stalk potential victims. We laughed so much that day, even more so when Chatty returned and said, ‘You tossers, thanks for that. It was going badly before the noises anyway.’
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