Vale, Vale, wherefore art thou Vale? At the bottom of the sodding league you bunch of losers… honestly the effort I put into this website and you can’t even be arsed to score any goals…. Hennyway another week, another bunch of crap opponents that we’ll fail to beat and end up looking like mugs. I could earn twice as much writing for the Stourport News…
This weeks formidable spanking comes courtesy of the Athletico Broadway boys and its on the bogey home pitch again. The gaffer had obviously been watching some training videos or something as he came up with his latest brainwave, the buddy system. The team would be divided into pairs such that compliments and encouragement could be swapped betwixt Valeains in an attempt to avoid the inevitable head drop technique so ruthlessly enforced by our favourite team this year. And so it was, Pete teamed up with Stu, Steve with Vale stalwart goalkeeper ChuffJu, and so on. “Hang on” said Laan, “I haven’t got a buddy”… was this the shape of things to come? Piss poor preparation prepares perpetually erm.. poor pissing … or something like that anyway.
The match kicked off, and a big cheer of Charge came from the Cap, keen to keep the heads (and peckers judging by the shortness of those shorts big boy) up. It was a good start overall, from the moment the ch- sound started to the echo of the –rge… after that the usual prevailed. All was well and the boys were making some chances. Pete Gouge was being his usual rambunctious self on the left and Mick was doing his best to defile the Broadway left back. A few half chances came and went but nobody looked like scoring.
Then surprise surprise the unexpected suddenly appeared as if out of nowhere by magic and the Broadway scored. “It was offside Ginge” came the on field response. “Stop getting at Ginge, he’s alright” came the next, “don’t argue you bunch of wankers, get on with the game” “shut the fuck up laan” etc etc. No-one was on the game and quite frankly the Athletico could have wrapped up the game there and then, but luckily that lucky old lady luck smiled fortune down on the lucky players… well one in particular… well actually you could call it mis-luck. For the broadwayian had buckled beneath his slender frame and nigh on mashed up his hand. The event put it all into perspective, walls crumbled and animosity declined, the Vale were facing a holiday ending injury. Ten minutes later he was off the pitch, and whilst the Broadway’s only sub chipped in with helpful first aid advice and offered to drive him to casualty, the Vale capitalised on their one whole man avantage.
A quick throw in left the gaffer in acres of space in which to attempt his patented hip busting overhead kick. After landing on his head and kneeing the ball into his own nuts he was overheard to comment “My legs have gone”. Little Pete popped down the wing, overlapping his hunkier namesake, and got the ball back. A quick look up to see who was in the box was met by Brew and Steve’s beaming smiles and limp wrists waggling so Pete decided to go for the safe option and lob the ball onto the 2nd fairway.
Half time and time indeed for a bollo… erm constructive team talk…”Look we’re all on each others fucking backs fuck fuck fucking enjoy yourselves you wankers” and back out they went. Dan bamboozled the opposition. “Watch this lads” and watch they did for twas the inaugral laying down of the ‘Elvis’. Jaws on the floor, the Athletico could do little to thwart the then onslaught. Mick out foxed the right back with his new found tappy tappy RUN RUN move, Laan was finding his feet in the middle and getting his head up a bit then as the clock struck fifty two minutes it came. Dan wonderfully toe-stroked the ball through to Gougey on the left and a sublime slip across to Laan was eyed up hungrily and blammed home by the Slovakian like his life depended on it… funnily it did as the gaffer had been threatening to get him deported. First celebrater was Dan but little Pete won the award for furthest travelled to celebrate with the scorer. Surely that’s it now then lads? Spanking ahoy? Weeelllll, not quite.
Athletico came back, some long balls over the top met by Paul the Cougar on the edge of the centre circle to head clear. Brew tapped a ball down to Pete with a casual “here you go mate” before realising it had actually looped over his head and into the path of a rampaging forward. Luckily the mistake was saved with a healthy boot from the northern monkey.
The Broadway striker noticed how lenient with the flag our Ginge was “he doesn’t giv anytin im does he?” only to be met with a flag on his next trip forwards. “Cheatin bastar” was met with a “I’ll stick it up your arse next time” from the Witty College, Class of ’72 Ginge. And on it went. Like a gay gangbang, shots rained in from all directions and at both ends, and both teams were getting twitchy. A ball over the top found Dan offside but whats that… little Pete ran from his own area down the pitch yelling “I’m not I’m not I’m not…” only to reach the keeper about thirty seconds after he’d picked it up.
Their keeper got injured and only a good bit of spongework by our own Ian Barkus saved the Broadway from losing another man. At the other end Brew got in a bit of a bunfight with one the attackers after being pushed onto the Cougar. There was a bit of scrapping, the gaffer stepped in as usual from ten yards away with a “erm.. excuse me could you stop that please?” Everyone tried to calm Mark down but regrets, he’d had a few, but then again too few to mention, I think to get there that day he’d been down the highway, he’d tried to buy stuff off the internet but tried to go on ibay, he’d tried to get off with some blokes boyfriend but was told “no that’s my gay”, and eventually said “look, I’ll deal with it MYYYY WAAAAYYYYYYYYY”. “Okay” said Pete. “I enjoyed that” said the ref.
And then there was nothing but silence. The game was over and everyone had left. One point from twelve. No great. Cup match next week with the record of never getting into the second round to beat… can the Vale surprise us any more? Not likely my friend but I’ll be there as ever to report back… now where’s my lift?
Oh yeah, everyone had left.
Bastard.
Nibbler
