In Hornswood (being the dynamic little suburbs from Hornsby and Chatswood) it can be a little conservative and… quiet, so I tend to initiate social events.

My daughter went to “PLC” and in her first year I thought it would be a great idea to arrange a piss-up with the dads of the other Year 7 girls, who I was going to occasionally see for the next 6 years.

I was put in contact with Mrs Penelope Correct (my daughter would kill me if I used her actual name) and sent her an email with a Bitmoji attached.

Dear Penny,

I have a daughter in year 7. I was hoping to arrange an unofficial pub visit for the dads of her year, so we can all get to know each other. Would that be possible? Thanks. Jase Gram

PC replied in a very timely and positive manner.

Dear Mr Gram,

This is the first time anybody has sent correspondence with a Bitmoji of themselves. LOL. That sounds like a wonderful idea. Send me an email and I will forward it straight out to the rest of the dads of Year 7. Kindest regards. Penelope Correct – PLC.

So I sent her an email with an excellent Bitmoji of me attached to really set the tone for all the dads, when she forwarded it on.

Howdy dads of Year 7 girls,

I know some of you dodgy lads already, but most I don’t. Let’s all get together for a massive, rowdy break-the-ice piss-up!! Who’s in lads? The Greengate, March 17^th. 7:00ish.

The next day, PC sent me back a reply.

I’m sorry Mr Gram. Do you think you could possibly, tone the email down just a little bit? Kindest regards. Penelope Correct – PLC.

I assumed the picture was the problem, so I sent back a less suggestive Bitmoji.

Penny please just call me Jase. I’m no “Mr Gram”. How’s this one?

PC replied.

I’m sorry Jase, do you think you could possibly, tone the Bitmoji down just a little bit further? Kindest regards. Penelope Correct – PLC.

So I amended it to look more like a dad celebration-of-PLC-life, than a piss-up.

PC then replied, in an exceedingly timely manner. I think she was starting to get a little concerned.

I’m sorry again Jase. The school does not want to be encouraging alcohol drinking in any of their communications. Please amend. Kindest regards. Penelope Correct – PLC.

So keep in mind I really wanted this thing to happen and I didn’t want to appear like an absolute yobbo to my daughter’s new school. I sent a Bitmoji which had no amber fluid.

I know what you’re saying Penny. How’s this one?

PC replied.

No Jase, could you do one that’s a little bit more representative of us at PLC? Kindest regards. Penelope Correct – PLC.

That one was easy.

Penny I’m pretty keen to make it look like fun so we’ll get plenty of dads actually turn up. How’s this?

PC got back to me.

Yes Jase, I have spoken to a few people in the office and we’re still not comfortable sending that out from the school. Could you do one a little more in fitting with the school’s standards. Kindest regards. Penelope Correct – PLC.

Easy. I replied:

Sorted Penny.

PC replied. I think she was getting a little frustrated, as was I.

Jase, could you do one without alcohol mentioned or implied? And how about any single-mothers who may wish to attend? We cannot exclude any parents. Kindest regards. Penelope Correct – PLC.

Single mothers? Did PC completely misunderstand what I was trying to arrange??

Penny, single mothers aren’t actually invited. This is for dads only. Wouldn’t they be a bit more comfortable at say… a mother’s event? Jase.

I got the distinct impression my email was not going to be sent out at all and that my file had been stamped “Dodgy Dad”. So I sent her this…

How do you do, fathers of Year 7 students?

I have had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of some of you. I suggest we all gather together for a tea-drinking session, so we may get to know each other. Who is interested in attending? The Greengate Hotel, March 17^th. Shall we say, 7:00? The first English Breakfast on me!

She replied.

Mr Gram the school will take the entire idea under advisement. Regards. Penelope Correct – PLC.

I had reverted to “Mr Gram” and her “kind regards” had lost their warmth and had been diminished to just “regards”.

After not hearing from her for about a month, I sent her one last Bitmoji, with no words.

The event never ended up happening.

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Thanks for reading. I write blogs oftentimes just to be able to claim when meeting a new person at a Hornswood party, that I am in fact… a writer (whereby my wife generally jumps in and proclaims “he’s actually NOT a writer”). If you could Share far and wide via the buttons below, that would be amazing. I write stuff for a few small companies, but I need to one day be a famous contributor to the noble art of blogging. And check out the brilliant new craft-beer home delivery business I have set up with a few North Shore dads (gettincrafty.com.au) Cheers

Due to a debilitating hang-over, Andy made the mistake of turning up to his daughter’s Under-14 soccer Grand Final just moments before kickoff. So, all the dads had volunteered him to be linesman. It wouldn’t normally bother Andy, however he’d been out with us lads and his head hurt like a hammer-hit thumb. He’d been stitched up royally.

It all went surprisingly well, despite Andy being constantly on the vomit-precipice he relaxed and enjoyed game. It was a thrilling 2-2 score-line with seconds left in the serious grudge match against a team that neither the parents nor the girls liked as they always took things too seriously and cheered obnoxiously (we don’t like that in Hornswood – being the dynamic little suburbs from Hornsby to Chatswood).

In the closing seconds one of the Hornswood backs made a desperation kick from well in their half and Andy’s striker daughter slammed home the goal! Andy erupted into proud-father cheers.

The problem was, his daughter was a MILE offside. So much so, that players on both sides had slowed their sprinting to prepare for the penalty.

With a hangover-exploding head, perched upon the vom-ipice and alcohol still coursing through his veins, Andy was in no condition to sprint. He was way bacl and actually missed his daughter’s offside completely. In fact, in his excitement he actually forgot it was even his job to call it. He had his flag tucked snuggly under his armpit while he applauded the winning goal.

The ref (who looked to be about thirteen) – “Was that goal good mister?”

Andy – “GOOD?? IT WAS FREAKEN GREAT!!” Andy punched the sky and the flag fell out of his armpit.

So, much to the surprise of his daughter’s team, their opposition and their highly-animated supporters the ref paid the goal. Then he blew full-time. Hornswood had “won”.

Andy ran to the goal square and hugged his daughter excitedly.

Then with a newfound spring Andy set off across the field to celebrate with the rest of the Hornswood parents. Walking past the gaggle of heart-broken opposition girls from whom he had unwittingly burgled the match, he heard comments thrown his way. Some irate, some teary.

“WHAT A CHEATER. THAT AWFUL GIRL WAS A MILE OFFSIDE.”

“I WONDER WHICH ONE IS HIS DAUGHTER.”

“HORNSWOOD ARE SUCH DIRTY CHEATS.”

“SHE’S A COW.”

“HE’S A FAT OLD CHEAT.”

Thinking that was a bit rough and it wasn’t his fault his daughter had single-handedly beaten their old nemesis, he then walked past a large group of opposition dads, out of earshot of all the girls.

“YOU’VE GOTTA BE FUCKIN’ JOKIN’ MATE! YOU HAVE A FUCKIN’ BET ON OR SOMETHIN’?”

“DID YA HAVE YOUR FLAG UP YOUR ARSE PAL?”

“YOU DODGY? OR YOU JUST SHIT, MAN-BOOBS?”

“KNOW THE FUCKING CONCEPT OF OFFSIDE YA RICH PRICK?”

Andy finally realised his error. And as a predominantly honorable man, he was mortified. He decided he and his daughter should skip the team celebrations – of their hollow and undeserved victory, and just leave.

As he was getting into his car, a slightly scary little old lady appeared. Andy hoped he wasn’t about to cop some more abuse.

Little old lady (yelling in a thick European accent) – “YOU ROB MY GRAN’DAUGHTER!!” Andy just stood there. “YOU NO GOOD MAN. YOU LIE WIZ ZHE GOATS.”

One of the angry opposition dads (to the little old lady) – “LEAVE HIM MAMA. HE’S JUST A DIRTY CHEAT.”

She waved her hands witchingly, right in his face. Freaked out, all Andy could do was get in and drive away. In his rear vision mirror he could still see her gesticulating, spitting on the ground and yelling.

“WIZ ZHE GOATS.”

The next week Andy and his wife were with us in a restaurant and an hour earlier he’d recounted the story of how he unwittingly gave his daughter’s team an exceedingly hollow, finals “victory” and an elderly lady had loudly accused him of goat… relations.

Feeling a… presence Andy turned and there standing next to him was the old lady! He froze. He felt as though his heart had stopped beating.

Little old European lady – “REMEMBER ME? YOU ROB MY GRAN’DAUGHTER.”

Andy just nodded, scared. Really scared. Nobody in Hornswood makes a scene in a restaurant, it’s unseemly! He looked to me for support, I did my best to suppress laughter.

But much to his relief, this time she appeared calmer and seemingly had gotten over her bitter disappointment.

Little old European lady – “ISS OK.”

She smiled, turned and left. Andy much relieved, commenced breathing once again.

Then Samantha noticed a piece of paper on Andy’s bread plate, folded many times into a thick little rectangle.

Andy opened it up carefully –

PLEASE USE THE BUTTONS BELOW TO SHARE FAR AND WIDE.

Thanks for reading. I write blogs oftentimes just to be able to claim when meeting a new person at a Hornswood party, that I am in fact… a writer (whereby my wife generally jumps in and proclaims “he’s actually NOT a writer”). If you could Share far and wide via the buttons below, that would be amazing. I write stuff for a few small companies, but I need to one day be a famous contributor to the noble art of blogging. And check out the brilliant new craft-beer home delivery business I have set up with a few North Shore dads (gettincrafty.com.au) Cheers