Life's a Joke and then You Croak- The Wit and Wisdom of Grandpa Frog

I think I have finally found a bright side to last week's debacle.Having been incapacitated by my nearly ex-girlfriend Pixie in the ill fated Frogpool match I have been unable to attend school. Admittedly I have been sewn together by a duck and am in some considerable pain, but I have been putting the time to some good use and hanging out with Gramps down in the mud bath. Gramps is the oldest frog in the bog and he didn't get that way without knowing a thing or two. Here are some of my favourite croaks.

• Frogpool is a waste of a good braincell.

• Good farts are for sharing.

• Find time to admire the view, but never mid hop.

• Life's a joke and then you croak.

• When catching flies never aim for biggest, you may bite off more than you can chew.

• If you choose a big woman you can expect she'll keep your webs full!

• Slugs, snails and puppy dog's tails make good eating.

 

• Never waist a croak on them that don't listen.

 

• Why play Frogpool when you could be gnawing your own leg off!

• Frogs, toads and also newts, all have webs beneath their boots.

 

• Slug trails are the pathway to a good meal.

 

• Don't be afraid to look beyond the bog, do be afraid of looking too closely at it.

 

• A good nap is never a waste of time.

 

• Frogpool is just a load of Bulls!

• That Sir Chatternack is a right toady plonker!

Don't mess with Grandpa Frog!

The 5 Top Lows of the Week

5. Lunch- The canteen is scraping to bottom of the food chain, quite literally. This week they served us dehydrated slugs. Not satisfied with serving food that is already dead they are now sucking all its life force before they serve it!

4. Frogpool Practise- The weekly torture I have to attend. Not because I am especially athletic or talented but due to a lack of frogs of the right physical build (small and lanky) to play in the sub positions.

With an impending match against Northend Comprehensive this week it was sooooooo much worse.  Sir Chatternack enforced an extra 2 hours after school practise. Then Mungo Frog was taken ill with an especially bad case of pond rot and I was moved to central sub. This put me right in the most vulnerable position for a scrum with the other team's bulls.

3. Parent Teacher Conference- Mum and Dad went to see Mr. Barking, he was not exactly encouraging about my progress. In fact he said that although my scores in biped sociology were good unless I improved in bogology, croak music and PSHE (Pond Studies and Habitat Ecology) then I am not going to achieve my Bog Standard Certificate and the end of next year.

Mum and Dad ripped into me as soon as they hopped back onto the pad. I suggested that maybe I should drop out of the Frogpool team so I could spend more time on my course work. Mum and Dad went strangely quiet and Dad muttered something about having to continue the family tradition. What family tradition? Mum only ever played far wing bull for a single term and Dad never got selected for the team at all.

2. West Bogside Sports Academy V Northend Comprehensive- The match lived down to all my worst expectations. Northend's bulls were massive and I could tell they had me in their sights before I'd even jumped into the pool.

As soon as the ref croaked I dived downwards hoping to avoid trouble near the pool floor. Three Northend bulls got there before me and I was ambushed. They pushed me to the surface and flung me through the air. As I hurtled backwards I manged to twist and land on a pad. With a massive leap I skimmed off two more pads and was heading towards Northend's goal line. One more hop and I would make a touch down!

I made contact with the final pad and let my muscles recoil propelling me towards the line. As I did a bull broke the water's surface rising  upwards to block me. But not a Northend bull, no, it was Pixie and she had vengeance in her eyes! We made a mid air collision and plunged back into the pool my moment of glory vanished into the murky depths with us. I grappled to get away from Pixie but as I did I heard an unsettling ripping sound and my webbs exploded into pain. I had to be pulled from the pool by the medic toad who administered first aid pool side before Mum and Dad collected me and took me to the local quack.

1. Visiting The Local Quack- The nearest thing we have to a doctor in the bog is a small duck. He used to live in an ornamental garden pond at a biped hospital. This is where he acquired an interest in medicine and gained what knowledge he has and from my experience is that is not a lot!

He poked and prodded me and diagnosed torn webbing (which I think I could have done myself). He then stitched it back up using pond weed. A duck's bill is not designed for stitching, and there is no pain relief in the bog. Newton said they could here me in Eastside!









The local Quack







Froglets and What to Do With Them

Have I mentioned froglet sitting at all? oh yeah once or twice, but I'm not bitter. Why would a young adolescent frog like me want to do anything but froglet sitting on a Saturday night? It's not as if there's anything better I could be doing (at least not since the Pixident).


Ok I admit it, froglet sitting is not my top choice of evening entertainment, there's so may of the little tailed croakers! I don't think there are as many as last month, but life is tough in the bog, that's why Mum and Dad won't pick  names until the tales have completely vanished. When  I was little I was fondly known as Froglet Six. I vaguely remember Froglets One to Five but am not really sure what happened to them, I suspect it as something to do with a lack of froglet sitters.

Froglets One to Five

As soon as Mum and Dad hop of for the night they start to hop riot! They won't go to sleep but jump all over the pad, Mum would go mad if she saw them leaping on her best lily and they're always getting into deep water. It's all I can do to keep the numbers up what with the pike and everything.

Luckily I don't have to do it on my own, Newton always comes over to lend a web. Newton's weird, he's an only child (a rare thing in the bog) but he prefers to froglet sit with me than go out to the hop. In fact most Saturdays he sends me a gnat message to ask if sitting is on, and when I send his gnat back with the affirmative, he's round in the flick of a tail.

The froglets love Newton! I don't know why, you'd think all that goth guy liner and silver jewellery (how he doesn't sink I don't know) would scare their tales off, but the second he slides in they all frogpool tackle him! Newton says they are brothers in tail. He then organises a frogpool game, the froglets play subs, Newton is Bull for one side and I'm Bull for the other (see frogpool the whys and wherefores). We play for an hour  I'm terrified the whole time cos a newt playing in a frogpool game, even just a friendly, is strictly against bog law. It's worth the risk though because after an hour of that the froglets are exhausted and we can heard them under the pad for a good nights sleep (them and us!)