Wednesday, January 14, 2004
I Love the Smell of Napalm in the Morning!
Last Saturday, as if we weren't tired enough from the exams and celebrations, we dragged ourselves out of bed to catch a 9 a.m coach for paintballing.
Only a few of us had done this before, and with about 50 tired MBAs, it was going to be either tepid, or rather ugly.
Lucky for us it was ugly. Real ugly.
You see something happens when you put a gun in the hands of an MBA. I don't wholly recommend it. The red mist sets in and pent up agression and crazed imaginings of the MBA debt piling up take over. There's only one course of action from then on - unrestrained, unstrategic, unorganised, unethical violence, of the Milgram-ian kind.
The Blues won of course, led by our able commander Mark Wadley, of the British T.A. The Reds demonstrated the meaning of snatching defeat from the jaws of victory, though it was never really close, (especially after a few daring runs by your intrepid writer).
The rest of the weekend was spent nursing bruises and what I'm sure are cracked ribs...
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