Line-up: 1.Matt (c) 2.Nobby 4.Steve 5.Leo 9.Gareth 10.Nathan
“It goes…..face in the crowd. If you don’t care, then why are you singing out?”
All the most important things in the world are divided into halves. The human brain – separate hemispheres with distinct control functions; the Bible – the old part with it’s creation, plagues, judges, and Samson – the new part with a hippie and his God complex; From Dusk Till Dawn – part gangster/hostage/hijack flick, part vampire suckfest; and the football match – a first half, and a final half.
Even I am divided into two: half cute, loveable, sweet and innocent Leo; half cynical, sarcastic shitbag Lungboy. Split personalities are fun – they allow abdication of responsibility, confuse mind readers, and gives me someone to talk to when sitting alone in The Lizard Lounge rubbing the condensation off my glass.
What you’ve yet to know, is that even my alter-ego has an alter-ego. Even Lungboy has a darker half, so dangerous he casts a shadow in the darkness. He’s reckless and uncontrollable, and makes Mr Hyde look like a teenage whinger who wasn’t allowed to breast-feed beyond the age of 13. The nature of this recent football match means that the jovial first half will be written by the Lung, the second, by he who should not be named.
The evening started brightly, as the team were informed by the janitor at the Goals centre that they would be featured on the covers of Shoot, Match! and World Soccer, with an exclusive photoshoot and match review. Once we’d twigged that there is no janitor at Goals, the designated first-aider instead confirmed it was the back page of The Pink* we would be gracing with our translucent beauty, and so their circulation would increase by six.
Yeah six, what with Adam continuing to use his sophisticated Create-Your-Own-Excuse randomiser computer programme. It allows thousands of reason combinations to skive. As I can’t be bothered to play next week, I’ve tried it: I cannot attend your event/activity because MY STEP-DAUGHTER has BROKEN HIS FACE whilst EATING AEROPLANE. I need to GET LAID and CLEAN my FLOWERS. **
So the team photos were taken, with media whore Don pushing his way into shot, and although Team Gumtree were no doubt actually the team being profiled and report written about, we were not about to make up the numbers. Nope, we’d fuck it up later.
We’re trying to learn from our mistakes, and after the debacle of last week’s terribly pathetic performance, we tried to get the tactics right from the start. We were gonna play a 1-2-1 formation, in a pseudo-man marking system, with the ‘2’ being the dedicated wingers, with Steve anchoring (and Leo deputising) the defence. Nobby was tasked with doing the one thing he’s actually skilled at, running into space, holding up the ball, and playing in Nathan and Gareth. And Matt was tasked with not letting shots slip through his fingers at his near post, or lift his foot up to allow soft direct free-kicks to trickle into the net, because he misheard the referee.
And make love to me slowly sideways with a rusty chainsaw if it didn’t bloody work, as the Mollys were all over Team Gumtree, like maggots over Pavarotti. Decimation and desecration are the only words to describe what we did to the “strong favourites” (© The Pink) that first half. Despite some bitch-talk about his legs being sore, Gareth impressed once again with his delirious running, linking with Nathan in what some demented people have described as a striking ‘partnership’, with a bit of ‘passing’ going on between them. Just imagine me reading the last part of that sentence aloud to you, for full sarcastic effect.
Gareth and Nathan “danger man” Mills (© The Pink) were shooting beyond their keeper with absolute clarity – Nathan banging in a top corner stunner that reeked of awesome. With Nobby playing a good water-carrying game, assisted by an opposition who stood off, played fair, and kept their ‘shoulders down’ for the most part, it was all Molly traffic. Leo even had the audacity to follow up a sky rocket shot to the moon, with a half way long range caner that squirreled under the keeper’s body as the Mollys took a 5-0 lead without reply.
With Steve and Nathan fighting to take the free-kicks, the Mollys played with a reasonable high line, we counter-attacked them with rapidity and accuracy, as our strikers frequently found themselves through one on one with their last man. And Matt was barely troubled until the end of a rapidly over first half when he soiled a potential clean sheet with a dirty doo-doo of concession. As the Mollys put down the tins of whitewash at half-time, was there talk of the inevitable second half collapse? Had we scored enough distance to absorb a potential fightback? Did we make whooping noises, and imitate sexual thrusts? Well, something snapped, something got triggered, as the Mollys went from Banner to Hulk, only in reverse. Which is an appropriate time for my other other half to take over.
PISSPOORFUCKWANKSHITCOCKBOLLOCKSCRAP.
Final Score: 7-9
Match Ratings: Matt 6, Nobby 6, Steve 6, Leo 5, Gareth 5, Nathan 5
MOTM: Matt
*Steve was kind enough to inform us that this was the only pink he would be in this weekend, without giving his missus a month’s notice. Ooooh suits you sir.
**Utterly more plausible than anything Jon and Robbie ever came up with. 2 for 1 Orange cinema tickets, indeed?!
All the most important things in the world are divided into halves. The human brain – separate hemispheres with distinct control functions; the Bible – the old part with it’s creation, plagues, judges, and Samson – the new part with a hippie and his God complex; From Dusk Till Dawn – part gangster/hostage/hijack flick, part vampire suckfest; and the football match – a first half, and a final half.
Even I am divided into two: half cute, loveable, sweet and innocent Leo; half cynical, sarcastic shitbag Lungboy. Split personalities are fun – they allow abdication of responsibility, confuse mind readers, and gives me someone to talk to when sitting alone in The Lizard Lounge rubbing the condensation off my glass.
What you’ve yet to know, is that even my alter-ego has an alter-ego. Even Lungboy has a darker half, so dangerous he casts a shadow in the darkness. He’s reckless and uncontrollable, and makes Mr Hyde look like a teenage whinger who wasn’t allowed to breast-feed beyond the age of 13. The nature of this recent football match means that the jovial first half will be written by the Lung, the second, by he who should not be named.
The evening started brightly, as the team were informed by the janitor at the Goals centre that they would be featured on the covers of Shoot, Match! and World Soccer, with an exclusive photoshoot and match review. Once we’d twigged that there is no janitor at Goals, the designated first-aider instead confirmed it was the back page of The Pink* we would be gracing with our translucent beauty, and so their circulation would increase by six.
Yeah six, what with Adam continuing to use his sophisticated Create-Your-Own-Excuse randomiser computer programme. It allows thousands of reason combinations to skive. As I can’t be bothered to play next week, I’ve tried it: I cannot attend your event/activity because MY STEP-DAUGHTER has BROKEN HIS FACE whilst EATING AEROPLANE. I need to GET LAID and CLEAN my FLOWERS. **
So the team photos were taken, with media whore Don pushing his way into shot, and although Team Gumtree were no doubt actually the team being profiled and report written about, we were not about to make up the numbers. Nope, we’d fuck it up later.
We’re trying to learn from our mistakes, and after the debacle of last week’s terribly pathetic performance, we tried to get the tactics right from the start. We were gonna play a 1-2-1 formation, in a pseudo-man marking system, with the ‘2’ being the dedicated wingers, with Steve anchoring (and Leo deputising) the defence. Nobby was tasked with doing the one thing he’s actually skilled at, running into space, holding up the ball, and playing in Nathan and Gareth. And Matt was tasked with not letting shots slip through his fingers at his near post, or lift his foot up to allow soft direct free-kicks to trickle into the net, because he misheard the referee.
And make love to me slowly sideways with a rusty chainsaw if it didn’t bloody work, as the Mollys were all over Team Gumtree, like maggots over Pavarotti. Decimation and desecration are the only words to describe what we did to the “strong favourites” (© The Pink) that first half. Despite some bitch-talk about his legs being sore, Gareth impressed once again with his delirious running, linking with Nathan in what some demented people have described as a striking ‘partnership’, with a bit of ‘passing’ going on between them. Just imagine me reading the last part of that sentence aloud to you, for full sarcastic effect.
Gareth and Nathan “danger man” Mills (© The Pink) were shooting beyond their keeper with absolute clarity – Nathan banging in a top corner stunner that reeked of awesome. With Nobby playing a good water-carrying game, assisted by an opposition who stood off, played fair, and kept their ‘shoulders down’ for the most part, it was all Molly traffic. Leo even had the audacity to follow up a sky rocket shot to the moon, with a half way long range caner that squirreled under the keeper’s body as the Mollys took a 5-0 lead without reply.
With Steve and Nathan fighting to take the free-kicks, the Mollys played with a reasonable high line, we counter-attacked them with rapidity and accuracy, as our strikers frequently found themselves through one on one with their last man. And Matt was barely troubled until the end of a rapidly over first half when he soiled a potential clean sheet with a dirty doo-doo of concession. As the Mollys put down the tins of whitewash at half-time, was there talk of the inevitable second half collapse? Had we scored enough distance to absorb a potential fightback? Did we make whooping noises, and imitate sexual thrusts? Well, something snapped, something got triggered, as the Mollys went from Banner to Hulk, only in reverse. Which is an appropriate time for my other other half to take over.
PISSPOORFUCKWANKSHITCOCKBOLLOCKSCRAP.
Final Score: 7-9
Match Ratings: Matt 6, Nobby 6, Steve 6, Leo 5, Gareth 5, Nathan 5
MOTM: Matt
*Steve was kind enough to inform us that this was the only pink he would be in this weekend, without giving his missus a month’s notice. Ooooh suits you sir.
**Utterly more plausible than anything Jon and Robbie ever came up with. 2 for 1 Orange cinema tickets, indeed?!
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