The Upper Lower Tollwoodford Easter Egg Hunt 2011

There is still an hour or two before the big Easter Egg Hunt so Ewan and I are rocking some warm up exercises.  It's physically impossible for Ewan to touch his toes but he is giving it a damn good try.  I've been working on my running.  I can now get a whole fifty metres without questioning myself.

The reason we are working so hard is that this year we have vowed not too lose.  If it is the last thing we do we will stop little Tommy Worthing from winning all those damn eggs.  Every year that fat shit alters the arrows on the course, plants fake eggs or fiddles with the clues, but not today.  I've had Mike doing reconnaissance around the course overnight to stop Tommy's annual prehunt search.  I also dragged Miss Bubble in to do security this year so there won't be any fucking around.  She used to work security for Edward VII back in the day and has broken enough bones to fill a really big hall.

You may ask us why we wish to win so badly seeing as Ewan is afraid of chocolate and I have some unresolved issues with the whole crown of thorns business.  Well I shall tell you why.  I hate fat little Tommy Worthing.  Not only is the kid a millionaire because of his Dad's Ugandan coffee shop chain, he was awarded an honourary membership to the Lego Club without buying so much as a brick.  That sort of thing just pisses me off.  I pay my subscription like everyone else and what do I get, an awesome magazine and a birthday card.  Well I don't think that sits right seeing as Worthing gets full use of the Lego company jet and all the bendy two's he can dream of.  Not to mention that botched bakery heist we did together.  He was our driver and shopped us to the fuzz while making off with the all the lemon slices himself.  This is an injustice that must be stopped.  I will not suffer another success by fat little Tommy Worthing.

Here comes Ewan with the match plan and background checks on all the contestants.  There doesn't seem to be anything to worry about.  Wendy Kingsley is out with a grazed knee and the Reverend has disqualified Bruce Fields because he said 'bollocks' really loudly behind Prince Philip.  He also lost his regulation jumper while feeding the flamingos so it looks like it is a straight contest between Worthing and us. 

I would say that we are an absolute shoe in to win today's Egg Hunt.  I can imagine it all now.  The glory, the fame, that feeling of pure bliss knowing that Tommy might be denied those few morsels of Mini Egg heaven.  I can't wait.

We just have to do a few more stretches and everything will be golden.  I don't want a repeat of the '96 hunt.  I overslept because the night before I found out my keyboard had an extra note and without the proper warm up I cramped up during the final dash.  I've never lived it down.  It was worse than the time Ewan forgot how to read or when Lenny Henry turned up to award the prizes and I booed him off stage with a large mounted Travelodge poster.  That was an awful year because they confiscated the egg we found and disqualified us from last year's event.

It is true, the annual Upper Lower Tollwoodford Easter Egg Hunt has seen some grim days.  There was the year they brought out Galaxy Truffle eggs.  They were the size of your fist and were heaven in chocolate form.  Turned out it was just another ruse by the Mars company to get our hopes up because they were never heard of again.  The same thing happened with the white chocolate Vienetta, but I have as yet been unable to prove anything.  It doesn't help that I ate all the evidence.

There was also the time the Florist, Draws Dropper Daisy found Miss Bubble's Foster Son dead upon the starting line. It was all a bit fishy and they said it was a botched Mafia killing.  Still when we told her she had won honourary first place she got over herself and managed to crack a smile.  This didn't sit well with Tommy as he was on the cusp of his tenth consecutive victory.  The look on his face when he presented Bubble with the trophy.  He could have killed butter.  The language that he came out with after the match.  Mr. E. Worthing Snr. (the 'E' stands for Enrique) was so embarrassed he took Tommy home and washed his mouth out with religion.  The town was in mourning for three days over the English language.  I thought it was fantastic until the Pete, that was the Foster Son, kept haunting the local football pitch.  We haven't a proper game in years because he kept scarring away the ball.

Right back to work, those eggs won't find themselves and Ewan's just pulled a calf muscle so we're in for the long haul.  I'll let you know how things turn out.