R23

Today, that young man is no longer young, and the dream is now reality.

There are few PunchDrunk Founding Fathers still going around. From memory Franco Schena, Franco Trobbiani, maybe Harv and, I don't believe so, but maybe Stavros.

As those sage gents were cutting the ribbon on the first (pre) Drunk season in 1988, there by their side, was a young child, agog and still pyjama'd. Possibly still smelling vaguely of breast-milk and up way past his bed-time. That boy, that Founding Foundling, that tousled toddler was none other than Bernie. Bernard O'Seamus Padraig Phelan.

The boy has finally joined joined the ranks of adult Drunks. This year he can sit at the big table with the rest of us, this year he can have the avocado with his his prawn cocktail. This year he can pass on the shandy and have a real VB.

Today this boy is finally a man living his dream.

It won't come as a surprise to any of us that, after leading for the past 15 rounds, Bern has not only held his lead, but continually extended it whenever anyone even looked like making a move.

Congrats Bern old chum. In your modest manner you claim we were foxing and intended to cruelly snatch your impossible-to-lose victory at the last minute. Or worse, took pity on you and let you win. If it were possible both would be true, but alas, they cancel each other out, so you must have won fair and square. You may not believe it, and neither do I, but there you have it.

Tas and Dickwad each gave it a red-hot go, finishing second and third respectively for the second successive year, each with identical point scores to last year. Freaky huh.

Bob Brookmeyer finished 4th, thereby replacing her husband Heylow in this year's finals. Matt and Ando were always hanging about and hung on for finals berths. Garth, after a fourth last year finished 7th and is in for his second successive finals series, and yours truly, Drunkenstein, fell into eighth on the last game of the season after 5 years in the cellar. BobCatter stuck his neck out a little too often and a little too far in the final round, dropping out of the eight. Death or glory.

Here's the final ladder: