I have mentioned on a few occasions my vision of the BHO going forward, but what is my ultimate, pinnacle, pipe dream of a vision for where the BHO could (but won't) end up? Let me take you on a journey...
So, in my little mind hole, a few years have passed. I'm still feverishly writing enthralling and hilarious blog posts that keep my hundreds of readers bent over with laughter while hanging on my every word, and my faction is on League number 10 (ish). Not only that, but many people have now heard of the BHO and they now have factions of their own. There have been many championships that have been awarded and the blog is awash with summaries and updates. Naturally, I'm as happy as a pig in shit. But it only gets better from here. Hold on to your dignity folks.
We no longer hold our League matches in our homes anymore, that's beneath us now. We're playing in working men's clubs and boozers with clientele of a certain dribbly quality. Y'know, upper class venues. This enables us to engage in inter-factional championships. Things are going well. Each match we play only serves to gain more interest from the toothless locals and more and more people join as a result. And that's how things proceed for quite some time.
But on one of these ultra popular nights, as I'm slowly rising to the rank of local God in the community, I'm approached by a half pissed beady eyed fella in a crumpled red crushed velvet suit and he tells me to stop fannying about touring the working men's clubs and backstreet boozers and take the BHO to one single venue and make that the hub of competitive Yahtzee, where it can shine. I'm skeptical, but I hear him out. He waffles on at me for a good hour, and from what I can tell through his Malibu soaked breath is that he is a partner in an up and coming club and very much wants the BHO to be a part of it. Still skeptical, wondering whether this poundland Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen is for real, I reluctantly agree to take a look.
A few days later, I get a call. It's the weasel from the other night telling me he's ready for me to go to the venue for a gander. Which I do, and I was right to be skeptical. It's not an up and coming venue at all, in fact, it's an old abandoned strip club. The walls are peeling, the poles are greasy and the floor is sticky with suspicious white stains. The weasel assures me there is much more to come and work is to begin imminently. He tells me he wants me to help make this the venue of his dreams. He wants to combine good music, good beer and Yahtzee to bring the place to life. Well, each aspect of his plan gets a big thumbs up from me, so who am I to say no? I agree.
Weeks go by, money gets spent, but soon enough we're an up and running venue that hosts BHO Yahtzee Leagues. But it's not too long before interest grows to such an extent that we become a dedicated BHO Yahtzee Club. The deciples from the working men's clubs have all descended upon us and we are in full swing. Word continues to spread. People that would never have even dreamed of playing Yahtzee in their lives have heard the buzz and can't resist coming to see what all the fuss is about. Predictably, they're captivated.
It's not long before the waves of competitive Yahtzee reach beyond the comfy confines of Yorkshire to the outside world, if there is such a thing. Of course there is, but if you're from Yorkshire, you know what I mean. We're a funny bunch. Soon Yahtzee fever spreads like COVID in 2020. The blog gets out of control with summaries and updates and new factions. Pubs are hosting their very own Yahtzee Leagues. Bingo is now obsolete in care homes. In its place? Yahtzee. Street youths no longer carry knives, they carry dice. This does not go unnoticed.
The offers come flooding in. Sponsors left, right and center. All the big names; Findus Crispy Pancakes, Anusol, Happy Shopper, MD 20/20, Webbox, Diamond White, Germaloids, Sterodent and Qatar Airways to name just a few. I accept them all and the cash is rolling in. Pretty soon the BHO has gone Pro. Players are now competing for huge cash prizes, but not only that, the prestige that comes with a BHO title.
By this time, I'm getting worried. I'm elated by how things are going but I'm hearing rumours that competitive Yahtzee is to be picked up by all the major sports television channels, but the phone isn't ringing. I'm perfectly aware that anyone with a bit of savvy could just pick up my idea and take it further than I ever did. But the phone does ring eventually, after many sweaty days sat watching my phone, and I am offered the TV deal I had always hoped for. They don't just want competitive Yahtzee on their channels, they want the BHO. After intense negotiations I accept their offers.
The BHO airs its first ever League and BOOM, the BHO rockets from a national to an international phenomenon seemingly overnight. Wars in the middle east are no longer settled with guns and bombs but with dice and Putin sells his nuclear warheads to pay for his Yahtzee habit. Due to overwhelming demand, the BHO World Series of Yahtzee is born. Countries from far and wide converge to determine which nation reigns supreme (I won't tell you who wins, you'll have to wait a few years to find out).
Many days, weeks, months and years have passed and The BHO World Series of Yahtzee is now the most viewed sporting event (yes, sport) on the planet. Former footballers are now resorting to taking up jobs in Carpet Right and Lidl, former darts players have been force to move to China to take up Sumo Wrestling and former Heavyweight Boxing Champions are now working as door men outside the many, many Yahtzee clubs that have cropped up over the years.
I stay involved with the BHO for a good thirty years, and there's a few low points along the way; Claire Hoggarth is found to have Carlsberg in her system before a grand final whilst representing England in the World Series, despite the fact that it has been an illegal substance for many years; Kerrie Bush is suspended after the referee caught her switching out the match dice for weighted dice bringing the whole BHO into disrepute; Lee Hoggarth is reprimanded for his outspoken views about his fellow competitors; Russell Bush's preserved head is knocked off its podium where it has stood pride of place for many years by a drunken spectator. I am not innocent in this respect either. I am fined many thousands of pounds and jailed for 3 months after inciting a riot during an opening ceremony for the World Series. Too much to drink, and you know how gobby the yanks can get. But these are just a few blips in an otherwise fruitful, not to mention profitable, enterprise.
It is now time for me to step down gracefully as the head of the BHO. I've done all I can and I'm bloody knackered. I hand over the reigns to Lee Hoggarth, my partner in Yahtzee from the very beginning, confident he can take the BHO into exciting new territories. He doesn't. He spends most of his time, money and effort on prostitutes, crack, tattoos and hair transplants. The BHO falls into financial turmoil as Lee embezzles a fortune from the BHO's coffers to fund his habits, leaving the organisation near collapse. Luckily, a consortium of Saudi billionaires save the BHO from total collapse. But it is now out of our hands and in the sweaty grasp of Arab playboys. Thanks a lot Lee!
Wow, what a bloody roller coaster of nonsensical flights of fancy, but hey ho, one can dream can't one. There is, however, a point to me spouting all this preposterously overblown claptrap, and that is, no matter how daft or fanciful your ideals may be, or how many people think you're daft or sad, always dream bigger than is practical. If, in a few years, we only have three factions, or we have indeed taken our matches outside of our dining rooms and more players are involved, that will be the dog's bollocks for me. Dream big, but be happy with whatever success does come, I guess is what I'm saying. Is that a good lesson? I don't know, you be the judge. I'm off for a game of Solitaire Yahtzee now as I currently have no-one to play with and there's no televised Yahtzee to watch... yet...
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