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Picture
the scene... Its 8pm, the club is quiet but the night is young.
Its time to see if any of these archers are worth their salt.
So you think you can shoot? Oh you can hit an X at 60m so
you say? Then lets put it to the test, and seperate the wheat
from the chaff, the boys from the men, and the archers from
the amateurs.
The
targets are taken down, and cocktail sticks pushed into the
bosses. Newcomers look on it horror as the targets are placed
on thier new pegs..... friends of many dentists and those
with bad breath, thats right its Polo mints. At less than
an inch wide, it takes a steady aim and nerves of steel to
master the most feared of all mint confection, and most hated
by Ray who every week wonders why the floor is covered in
broken mints.
A
hushed silence creeps around the club, as the polo smasher
extrordinair takes to the line. 'Woody Whitter the polo splitter'
(otherwise known as God!) longbow in arm, takes aim, all eyes
are on him.... can he do it? With a release of the arm, the
arrow is en route, all eyes watching, waiting... an then with
a satisfying crunch and a small puff of white dust, the polo
is no more.
Up
steps Ifan to challenge.... usurper to Mal's throne, does
he have a chance, can he compete against God? Is he the reason
why I have just bought shares in the polo company? One thing
is certain...The polo club is in full swing!
Come
join us and see if you can put an arrow through the mint with
a hole.
Pentref
Bowmen, single handedly keeping Polo's is business.
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