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Subbuteo

my brother made a fantastic scalextric layout when he was about 14 or 15. it was on a wooden platform in his bedroom, with a hole in the middle and his bed underneath. had fantastic scenery and that and grandstands and everything.



yes but that was scalextric. it's a whole different "ball game"! LOL.
 
I follow a twitter page that share all the kits/grounds people have made. Some of them even using LED strip lights. Pretty cool.

I liked it when I was a kid I used to play it on my own and I had the scoreboard with all the different team names. Thanks to that I think I learnt about random cities and towns though I didn't know where half of them were.

I used to get the tabs with match too and used to play a league and cup game I made up with a dice. Used to do that for hours every year until the early hours when they came out. Also on my own. :hmm:
 
I used to play Subbuteo but with plastic dinosaurs Vs plastic farm animals as they were much tougher than the little players. I had to construct some scenario every time they played, and the animals would always pull off a heroic, improbable last minute victory.

I also had Test Match which was brilliant
 
for some reason I had this song going through my head earlier, and this seems like the perfect thread...



the lyrics for those not inclined to have Half Man Half Biscuit going in their heads after 30 35 (edited) years...

So he sent his doting mother
Up the stairs with the stepladder,
To get the Subbuteo,
Out of the loft.
He had all the accessories,
Required for that big-match atmosphere.
The crowd and the dugout,
And the floodlights, too.
And you'd always get palmed off
With a headless center-forward,
And a goal-kicker with no arms,
And he'd managed to get hold of
A Dukla-Prague Away Kit,
His uncle owned a sport shop
And he'd kept it to one side.
And after only five minutes
You'd be down to ten men,
Because he'd sent off your right back for taking the base from under his left winger.
Come to half-time, you were losing, four-nil.
Each and every goal, a hotly disputed penatly.
So you smash up the floodlights
And the game was abandoned,
And the dog would bark
And you'd be banned from his house.
And your travelling army
Of synthetic supporters
Would be taken away from you
And thrown in the bin.
And now he's working
In a job with a future.
He hands me my Gyro
Every two weeks.
 
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