The Thousands

Picture this. No wait, first, step into this alfoil time machine, and punch in 1-9-9-0. WhaaaOOSH! Your toes are scrunching in your floral jodhpur pants. Your potato gems are roasting in the oven. Your frenemy is over, and her hair is practically blonde! (how did that happen? Damn you Sun-in!)

Your favourite film of all time rolls. Winona Ryder’s sweet, sweet face appears, pleated skirts cut through the air like the finest cut of diamonds, and below it all a hockey ball whizzes past … HELL-AWFUL CLUNKING NOISE! A RIP THROUGH SPACE, TIME AND PROPRIETY! HOCKEY?! Strip HOCKEY? A brain tumour for breakfast over HOCKEY?

**Sure, hockey and croquet both involve spherical and pointy objects, but it’s like how the siblings of famous people have all the same genetics and yet manage to look dog-awful, never attracting any air-time. Heathers would’ve been shit with HOCKEY. Croquet rhymes with toh-gay for absolutely no reason. Croquet beats all other stick-and-ball variations. And once you’ve dialled 2-0-0-9, it can be found at a club near you.