Larry, The Downing Street Cat - Marbles

I have recently stumbled upon yet another of those gloriously peculiar pursuits that we Brits not only tolerate but elevate to the status of organised competition: marbles. Now, to the untrained eye, marbles might appear to be little more than colourful glass spheres destined to spend eternity under sofas. Yet in the village of Tinsley Green, West Sussex, they are treated with a seriousness usually reserved for international diplomacy and penalty shoot-outs. It is claimed that marbles have been played there for hundreds of years. Nobody seems entirely certain how many hundreds, but the figure is spoken with the sort of confidence usually associated with people who have never checked. Naturally, where there is even the faintest whiff of competition, there must also be a World Championship. This is Britain, after all. We are a nation capable of turning almost any activity into a major sporting event, provided someone can organise it within walking distance of a pub. The playing area consists of a concrete ring six feet across and covered in sand. At the centre sits a tightly packed cluster of 49 marbles, awaiting their fate like tiny, brightly coloured gladiators. Before battle commences, the team captains take part in something called a "nose drop" a phrase which sounds less like a sporting ritual and more like a medical condition. As methods of deciding who goes first, it certainly beats VAR. The players are armed with a larger marble known as a "Tolley" or "shooter". This is the heavy artillery of the marble world. A point is scored every time a player knocks one of the smaller marbles out of the ring. The first team to reach 25 points wins and earns the sort of sporting glory that can only be achieved by spending an afternoon hurling bits of glass around a sandy circle in a pub car park. And honestly, that's rather wonderful. So, have a rummage around in the loft. There is every chance that somewhere amongst the Christmas decorations, old photo albums and cables that connect to absolutely nothing, you'll discover a forgotten bag of marbles. When the grandchildren come round, give them a game. It might even persuade them to look up from their phones for a few minutes. Though I wouldn't bet my tuna allowance on it. In other news, my manservant is looking decidedly sorry for himself. His opponents are once again suggesting that he should call it a day following Andy Burnham's victory in the Makerfield by-election. His political future now appears to be hanging by a thread, admittedly a stronger thread than the one holding together the scratching post in the downstairs hallway, but a thread nonetheless. Which probably means I shall be returning to political reporting duties next week. Until then, have a splendid weekend. Larry the Cat Tuna Addict, Accidental Sports Correspondent, Occasional Political Analyst, and World-Class Napper. #cutecat #cuteanimals #pets #animals #larrythecat