Following on the back of a 9 nil drubbing of fellow div 5 strugglers Bitch Warblers last week, the Vale faithful were expecting a lot from our boys this week and luckily they didn’t disappoint. Laan, still sidelined from a mysterious sex injury, managed to sell six, yes six… count em, programs to the opposition.
Anyway, Hanbury this week in the Stormtrooper, Meekon and Miscellaneous Sci-fi Baddies Shield. The Stattler delivered his team notes to my house early Sunday morning and they are summarised below.
Name: Hanbury FC
That’s it? Checking through the annals of history revealed little about our opponents, except that they seemingly overestimated journey time from Droitwich to Stouport, as they were changed and warming up at 9.00am Sunday morning, well before the Vale were out of their collective sacks. Keen then, I’ll put that on the list for next time. Young too, some of the Hanbury lads were nerry out of nappies, still crawling around mainly but sometimes taking to their feet, wobbly at first, then picking up speed, only for their bodies to overtake legs and arse over titting being the result.
With Andy still on Dad duty, Chuff Sr and Jr on international duty in Cardiff and Danbo in London at the gay pride march, a mildly understrength 11 were picked out of the 11 stood around, then the lads decided to start with 10 on the proviso that Ad Shammie Leather Sharman might turn up shortly. Camo went in goal and promptly floated around his box like a fairy. Simmo, stand in skipper in the absence of Ratboy, promptly stepped up to the plate and gave a stirling team talk, really stepping into the size 20 clown boots Dan usually wears on a Sunday… with each word flicking a glance to Ginge with a “you know you want to give me this job permanently don’t you, he’s past it, like Beckham… sack him before he quits, loser”.
Off kicked the youngsters. Our boys didn’t know what had hit them… on they came like drool down their faces and after 10 minutes of pressure the ball was in the back of the net. The cheerleader esque celebrations and general gay shouts suggested to this reporter that goals don’t come too often for these kids and maybe our boys had better show em a thing or two about this mans game…
Five minutes later and we’re 2-0 down. Flopsy attempted to tackle back and being a yard off the pace let his marker in to slip it past Camo. Why I oughta you little scamps, come here and I’ll put you over my knee.
3-0. Shit. Come on lads, they’re embarrassing you here. Finally with ten minutes to go before half time, the Vale woke up in earnest and started to pass the ball around. It was beautiful stuff I’ve got to admit, Gerry and Rupert and Simmledeebo linking up in the middle, slipping it through to Ringo and Paul up front but it just wasn’t quite coming off.
Half time and yet more encouragement from Ginge and Matt and the boys came out hungrier than ever… except Flopsy that is, a tenacious overhead boot dislodging his kneecap, necessitating him asking for the keeper’s gloves. Quick reorganisation and it’s a debut for the youngster, long handsome curls thankfully locked away beneath peaked cap. The second half kicked off and it looked like we might actually get back into it. Whenever they had an attack, Rich Paulbrother on the flag flicked his tool up and down, like Rocky practising on a grotesquely inflamed clitoris of some overweight porn star. We made some chances and played the ball around well but it just wouldn’t go in the sprout bag. Flopsy pulled off a fingertip save round the post, then nearly gave a corner away by falling over, then a magnificent triple roll from a fairly innocuous ball rolling slowly into the box. Rupert T got cheesed off in the middle of the park, getting kicked up in the air he decided to retaliate, only to give away a free kick. The shout of “bollocks”, promptly received a yellow reply.
Into the last five minutes and Flopsy was up for his clean sheet debut. Rick in the middle of the park picked up an imaginary knock and went down like he’d been shot, accompanied by a particularly girly squeal. “I was nowhere near him ref” “I know you weren’t” replied Rick and off he went.
Last two minutes and Hanbury came forward for presumably the last time, a strike straight down the keepers neck was bobbled and parried away by the double knee save, falling to their right winger for an easy tap in. Toss. 4-0. Lucky it’s the cup eh lads?
