Now here’s a surprise. There were injuries galore – or should that be gore? – as the annual Pamploma bull run took to the streets.
I sense a JOCKEY SHORT! New readers, figure it out, or look up some back entries.
My initial thought was that British yobs involved in street violence deemed not quite worthy of a custodial sentence should be shipped out to the Spanish town, herded together at the start of the bull run course, and given 30 seconds to get the hell out of there before the snorting beasts are unleashed.
Of course, they would have to wear Wellingtons filled with custard. Plus a red rag of a shirt with a bull’s eye on the back.
But then I thought – why should the Spanish have all the fun? Let’s have our own bull run, so that as many Brits as possible can watch and laugh at the spectacle of these bullies running like the cowards they are.
But where? It needs to be an oldish town with narrow streets – the narrower the better. Britain is stuffed full of them. So maybe we can have regional heats with a grand final for the yobs left standing. Cowes on the Isle of Wight would obviously have a good claim, but I would favour the Shambles area of York. For those who don't know it, look at the picture – and then imagine trying to get away from angry bulls rampaging down there.
The yobs who make it to the finish unscathed, bar soiled underwear, will receive as a prize a mandatory summons to talk to schools on the evil of street crime.
Those who don’t … well, shucks!
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