Just when you thought it was safe to enter the Grange Hotel, the Hull Sharks go and hold their AGM on the same day as ours. AMBER NECTAR infiltrated enemy lines to investigate:
The tiny world of rugby league was rocked to its foundations when tennis supremo David Lloyd stamped his foot firmly and announced with a pet lip that he didn’t like been called naughty names, and that rude ones upset him, writes E. I. Erewego, our man at the blunt end. Sparks and accusations flew at the the Hull Sharks AGM when the irate shareholders had the cheek to ask Lloyd why he wanted to devalue their shares from £1 to a bargain 5p each.
One well-known shareholder, Mr Tubby Lard, who had already clashed with Lloydearlier in the carpark when he blocked the chairman’s Porsche in with his Robin Reliant, demanded to know if Lloyd was in fact “a Southern poofter with a dodgy haircut and no real interest in rugby league”.
With a lot of armwaving, Lloyd shocked the couple of dozen sad looking shareholders, not including the two whippets tied to the top table, by giving Mr Lard a real dirty look, which produced a gasp from the assembled throng, followed by a barrage of four letter words, twenty-one flat caps and an escaped racing pigeon.
Stewards had to restrain one angry shareholder who threatened Lloyd with a prize leek (which incidentaly won second prize at the Coltman Street Allotment Association recently) and another promised to withdraw his £20 worth of shares if Lloyd didn’t stop trying to baffle us all with long, fancy-dan words.
By now the meeting resembled the night Tim Wilby last showed his face in the Hull F.C. supporters social club, when someone nutted him and with that in mind, Lloyd’s right-hand man Michael Appleton, hid under the table with Brian Calamity, a man used to organised chaos. On a show of hands those present voted twenty-four to none that Lloyd was in fact a nancy boy, and a second resolution was also passed that Appleton most likely was as well. A hat was then passed around for the bus driver and a request was made for the pie n peas to be served. By now, Lloyd had stormed out of the hall, a bit like that Wash ‘n’ Go advert, trouble was the bingo cards were now on sale and no-one noticed. Indeed the only sign of the chairman’s hasty departure was his footprints in whippet shit leading to the door.
Outside the meeting, a rather harassed looking Mr Lloyd, brushing his hair to one side, sulked: “I’m deeply offended. Everyone knows my track record in sport. Look at what I’ve done for British tennis for example. We won the cup at Wimbledon in, er, nineteen-seventy-something, and that’s the kind of success I want to bring to Hull Tiger Sharks. Besides that, I’m not very happy with the dogshit on my trousers and when that pigeon crapped on my hair. Then I thought ‘Hey David, is this what I really want, what I really really want?'”
Thank Goodness AGM’s are only held once a year!