As I'm sure you've already spotted, attentive and observant fans, our bio states that we are men with ideas. These ideas tend to vary drastically in terms of ambition and sheer undertaking. As men with little history of perseverance, at the birth of these ideas, our minds have always wandered and our plans invariably, squandered. Alas, one such Idea shall be detailed below the paragraph I am writing this very moment.
‘Thom, I reckon, no I know, I could beat you at any sport’.
Thom had endured and humoured thousands of these ridiculous notions in the past (including the attempts to twin Joel’s former home, the remote village of Cliffe with Milan and two half written shows that Thom had been assured will, ‘take Edinburgh by storm’). Usually a change of subject or easily picking apart these ideas due to their glaring flaws would be enough to sedate the plans. However, this one had touched a nerve, a competitive nerve that both Joel and Thom could set off so easily in one another.
‘You’re on’ came Thom’s adamant reply. Neither were particularly adept at sport, but that had been pushed to the dark corners of their minds along with Joel’s university summer reading list and Thom’s wholly dissatisfying job. This wasn’t about ability, this was about competition, hard, fierce competition, that and distraction from a somewhat humdrum existence that had both settled into since they travelled together (but that’s another story for another book deal). ‘So what do you think’ said Thom, ‘Me and you got toe-to-toe over the next couple of weeks in a few one on ones?’ But, as ever, Joel had grander plans.
‘150 sports, you and me’.
As was hinted to above, we had always been a competitive pair, with one always determined to outdo the other in any minor, meaningless event. There had been countless races to the train station and unfathomably late nights as Joel attempted to reverse his FIFA losing streak. Joel would routinely recall the time he had put Thom to the floor with a single poke of the belly button and Thom would retaliate with a scalding remark as to the number of times it had taken Joel to finally be issued with a pink driving license. This form of, mostly, friendly competition had seen us through our carefree teenage years, including the infamous summer in which Joel beat Thom in every single tennis match they played (we’ll get back to that later, again and again). Sadly however, since hitting the age of twenty these opportunities had become fewer and fewer, Thom had a steady, if heartbreakingly dull, job as a chef and Joel was studying surprisingly hard at university.
So there we were, with a wonderful chance to rekindle that sense of adventure and bon amie we had so readily enjoyed in the past.
