The Ios International Billiards Tournament

Upon arrival in Ios, our newly acquired resolve to seek out the mythical billiards cue evaporated like a bead of sweat on the sun-baked cleavage of a scantily-clad, Scandinavian schoolgirl. The Ios lifestyle has remained deeply routed in tradition since the days when ancient Greek orgies were common place. Although deep rooting was off the menu for our celibate protagonists, we were able to revel in the wild partying, focusing our efforts on Herculean feats of ethanol consumption.

The red cape of a free T-shirt for every septet of shooters sunk, was charged at with the sort of Bullish determination that would make Queen Minos moist. Drinking sessions in which pint after pint of pure spirits were energetically ingested would last for hours, before we would awake in our Aegean stable of a room to pop packets from our pharmacopia of pills, giving us the power to roll fom bed to beach for a heavy day of spectating toplessche Deutsche shulmadchen Bat und Ball.

It was a Friday night in Ios. We had spent the day in the recovery position on the beach - our bodies at the mercy of the roaring sun, and our minds mesmerised by the hypnotic hijinks of seminaked sporting Scandinavian schoolgirls. As we walked into Ios town oiur bodies ached, exhauseted from the strenuous activity of metabolising the previous night's booze.
We made our way into Fun Pub and immediately recharged ourselves with 7 shots straight up.
Then we saw the sign.

"Billiards tournament tonight, 50 Euros prizemoney!" read WGB. "Holy Siddartha's scrotum!" replied NFC. Here was a chance to legitimise our so-called 'billiards-loving tour'. We drank 10 shots of tequila and 4 pints of Amstel and signed ourselves up for the competition.
The PABLO started strong, canons blazing and hazardous hazards haphazardly hammered homewards. In the early rounds of the tournament most of the amateurs were eliminated, and the PABLO took on the pseudonyms "Big Boy" and "The Midget" to avoid being recognised as professional billiards lovers.
The hours rolled by like a cheese pie, and the balls spun around the table as constantly as a gyros rotisserie.
In the closing rounds The Midget was tragically eliminated - his undoing a daring attempt at an 8 point Double Lindrum Manoeuvre from the Badger-Legged Spearfisherman position. Only Big Boy and 'Dynamite' remained. Dynamite was a good billiards player, and coming into the last round he looked like he had the game within his grasp.
"Bugger my Uncle - I'm done for!", lamented Big Boy. "Stop that nonsense you strawberry fool!" admonished The Midget, and then he spoke these wise words unto his compatriot: "Just think like Walter Lindrum, and the game will be yours".
Big Boy closed his eyes, and let the roars of the crowd and the taunts of his opponent fade into a distant hum. He breathed deeply, and felt a tingling in his levator ani muscle group. The spirit of the late great Walt Lindrum possessed him.
Big Boy stepped up to the table, spat thrice upon the ground and adopted the Foxton stance. He proceeded to unleash a rampage of billiards fury that silenced the crowd and claimed him the trophy.

The PABLO had bested 25 international billiards players, and so they started their celebration with a platter of 25 shots of tequila.....


Thought of the day - There are 5 essential accessories for the EuroMan - A good pout, cockjocks, sandals, a cigarette, and a frappe.

Gyros tally: 39