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Yo, it’s sports day b?tch
’ What’s the new mum like in class 4?’ I asked my friend Tanya as we pull up for school sports day last week.
’Hmmmm’ she said, screwing her nose up
’You don’t like her?’ I ask
’Oh I liiiiike her…she’s just a bit of an ’over sharer’ if you know what I mean?’
’Oversharer? Like, handing out too many sweets at the school gate???? Or Michael Douglas style?
’Michael Douglas gives out sweets???? …to kids????? Whaaaat? She looks
’Noooooo, I mean’t when he told the world his throat cancer was from…you know… ’Too much cunnilingus’
Mr Lamond ( deputy head) shoots me a startled look before continuing to busily erect the skittles.
’Oh yeah, she’s definitely like Michael then’ Tanya confirms.
’Ooh talk of the devil, here she comes’
’Hi Tanya darling’ New mum, air kisses us both 3 times, betraying the fact she originates from Newbury and not the Netherlands
’Lovely to meet you’ I say,
’Oh it all gets rather silly doesn’t it’ trills this new and cosmopolitan mum called…Linda.
’Parents take it too seriously don’t they? It was soooo competitive at our kids previous school …( It was one of THE most exclusive Private schools though) she whispers conspiratorially.
Tanya turns to me and silently mouths,
’M I C H A E L’
’ It’s not all about winning’ Linda smiles
’But mummy, you said we would have to donate my fidget spinner collection to Mary’s living & giving, if I don’t win?’ says Sebastien, looking confused.
’Oh Haw haw haw’ laughs Linda whilst pushing Sebastian roughly over to the start line.
’Is anyone bothering with the mum’s race?’ Sandra Clegg asks lazily, noshing on a box of scotch eggs and fake limping over to the ’active wear’ crowd.
’I would do normally’ she carries on to no one in
’ I’m only running for Sebby’ Linda lies.
Her Sweaty Betty ’No show G string’ is alight with fire under her Lululemon leggings. ’He would be so disappointed if I didn’t’
She rolls her eyes to prove her reluctance …whilst lunging like a mother fucker, hands already talced up and high as a kite from a morning visit to Lance Armstrong’s dealer.
The children’s races rumble along with the usual
First up its the Dad’s race. The reputation of every man, woman and child at St Mary’s hinges on the next 40 seconds and the air is thick with testosterone & flasked Nescafé .
A few hearty backslaps as the Dad’s saunter cockily over to the start line. Jock straps are
Pete the builder is jabbing at an imaginary punchbag, warming up ready to finally take down that smarmy CEO prick from class 2.
’You’re going down Tory boy’ he mouths to lane 2.
’Excuse me…I’m not even…’ Starts CEO, Rory Wagner – Jones
But Pete cuts him off;
’You’re running in Italian slip on shoes you douche kit’ …he shouts over his shoulder as he bolts at first fire of the gun,
The race falls into slow mo movie mode as strangled animal noises fill the air, teeth are bared and shoulders seem to triple in width before our startled eyes.
’KILL em Pete’ bellows Pete’s timid wife, Sonia as she jumps up and down on the spot, spilling Robinson’s fruit & barley down her wind cheater with the sheer excitement of it all.
In actual fact, it is the smallest dad in the line up who wins the race by a mile and he gives the 6footers
Next up its the mum’s race.
’Linda crouches…less tiger and more hidden dragon as she glares over at 6ft’3 lawyer, Sandra… who has her power suit hitched up into her Spanx . ’I’m not really a runner’ Sandra had protested weakly before yanking her Nike air zoom’s from her brief case in a flash.
In the next lane is Sally Jones, who’s giggling and waving, looking ever so slightly simple as she points to her bare feet and raised her palms with a
AND THEY’RE OFF…
As Linda & Sandra throw themselves over the finish line the field erupts into a Zola Budd V Mary Decker kick off across the tuck shop table…
’ Her bean bag was tucked inside her scrunchie’ yells Linda, eyes brimming with tears and bottom lip trembling in fury.
’I haven’t time for this nonesense, I have a conference I need to get to’ drawls Sandra as she
Linda is purple with rage and knocks back a dirty Gatorade, straight up. ’I would have beat that bitch if I wasn’t on my period’ she tells the crowd before crossly snatching one of Sandra’s scotch eggs.
’Let’s get out of here Tanya’ I say, as I pin my winners rosette onto my PE nation gym top. I air kiss Linda 3 times, which bides me just enough time to secretly stuff my anabolic steroids into the back of her ultimate picnic backpack
Lou Finch
41
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stuff my anabolic steroids into the back of her ultimate picnic backpack 
