THE LOST BASTARD OF GREAT HAXBY.
The Greatest Story Never Told... until now.
A Documentary Feature from Paul Cucumbre, fully sanctioned by BAFBA.
“How one hearts thee, oh bountiful spheres of joy. I trust plenty fold ye might and grace, and blessed is thy noble cause; this beautiful game... this bastard fucking game.”
An Introduction by Paul CucumbrE.
It’s 2018: The year of bad-politik, mad-nuance, and fad-nouveau.
Presidents Trump and May hold the purse keys to world power. Global warming is the big issue being discussed on every street corner.
And football is now the most popular sport on Earth.
Our location is The Oracle, in Reading.
It’s an impressively suitable location for today’s discussions.
Four hardy Boules veterans meet me, and each other (briefly), in the lobby of the Igor Novello Hotel. They’re here to talk to me about Boules. More specifically, they’re here to talk to me about ‘The Lost Bastard’; the name given to a notorious Boules tournament held at the Memorial Gardens of St Barts, in Great Haxby. A tournament that courted significant controversy back in the summer of 1990 – dividing opinion as much then as it continues to do so today.
As with many fads of this or any era, the halcyon flame of late night Boules on BBC2 in the 1980’s had burnt briefly, shining brightly, before dying in chaos and disgrace. The transient thirst for ballcocks tossed into the aether did leave behind some glorious memories, strewn across our consciousness, scarring our retinas. But it also left behind some inglorious divots, strewn across the nation’s lawns, scarring our landscape.
During the barren years of the snooker strike that followed Dennis Tyler’s provocative ‘final black’ victory over a yip-struck Steven Davies in 1985, and replacing the World Darts lumpen-skedule after the regrettable ‘beer und fag’ debacle, BBC Commissar of Excellence, Kim Fickle, turned to an historically calumniated sport to save Auntie’s bacon.
Boules was handed the golden ticket; free entry to an exclusive BBC buffet. And with it, the chance to showcase the full glory of a mid-morning Bastard to the hungry natives.
But why was Boules chosen?
It was cheap to organise and it was cheap to broadcast. The prize money was surprisingly meagre, despite the promise of some high profile sponsors, and crowds could easily be marshalled by local volunteers. It was also extremely popular at the time. Indeed, by 1987, Boules was terrifically en vogue. Brits abroad, with poor hair and ill-fitting clothes, holidayed in Biarritz, Gijon, and Saint-Hubert. By day, they competed playfully poolside with their Euro cousins. But by night, they would turn their attention to ‘kugel’ – heavy multi-coloured plastic balls – for entertainment. Yes, a late afternoon Bastard (or ‘game of Boules’) would be the local focal point of the evening.
As the sun lowered, and the children slept, the plonk would flow, and the Boules paddock would transform into a spherically-infused river of dreams...
More TBC in 2022…