Match Report

Last night I went to bed thinking are these my ultimate pyjamas, is this my final dressing gown? Waking with a dribble hardened pillow suck to my face with flat hair I knew it would be a day like no other, unique in a tide of mediocrity. How wrong I was. This week is 40 years to the day since man allegedly stepped on the moon, I say allegedly because in Dwight Domingez III’s book, he claims a Saturn 5 rocket crashed into the lot at the back of his house in Hollywood Hills. It woke Dwight but no-one else. The whole film and sound track was made by Steven Spielberg on film set. Why do aliens fly 100 million light years to stick probes into Americans @rses? I believe in a god with a sense of humour and in that waking moment I felt like the god of f@rts and bed clothes. Still the book has sold over 3 million copies, in the US and no-where else, although an Australian did pick a copy up once and did put it back. A close call for national pride. It features the flag waving in the wind and the “it’s one small step for man, into a giant heap of dog-sh!t”. Obviously the dolly boy hadn't cleaned the set. The sound track was heavy dubbed by scratch mix genius Grand Master Melle Mel. I also woke thinking if the Hokey Cokey is what it’s all about.

This week we saw even more new faces Steff, Seb, some other French bloke. We had Northern monkey gypsy caravan princess passing through. He has now become a high falooting Northerner and has started breeding fancy pigeons in the shed, racing pigeons weren’t good enough. He’s on his way to Australia claiming every year in Doncaster is equivalent to inhaling two tons of lead. The healthy lifestyle might convince some people, but it isn’t lead that makes you heavy. He has apparently just passed his degree in basket weaving and kennel hygiene, ideal for Oz then. We also had Frank back on a flying visit. He claims to have an @rse like Kylie Minogue’s granddad. There is no way of proving it, and he knows it…

Kit was handed out, some people paid, I lost the paperwork, which left 5 minutes to warm up and practice My, Dog, Has Parasites of some description. We had a reasonable turn out, even Manu made an appearance. Team Captain was Coles who confused everyone with his motivational speech. “They came for the French, but I wasn’t French, so I did nothing. They came for the Americans, but I wasn’t American, so I did nothing. They came for the Welsh, I laughed. They came for people with string holding up their pants, but I wasn’t from Somerset, so I did nothing (You are from Somerset, you carrot cruncher). They came for Kylie Minogue, I said she’s hiding in the wardrobe covered in sellotape and chocolate sauce (You lie like a cheap watch, has she got an @rse like Franks?). They came for the Australians, you can guess the rest. Sometimes it’s better to just turn a blind eye.” Eh? Confused we went to play some rugby.

The first half was an even match, Alan made a run early on, but ruined his 30 seconds of fitness in the first 30 seconds. The running style still didn’t stop the chuff, chuff sound as his thighs rubbed together. Frank showed his skills as Gandolf the white, beating Bruce’s Gandolf the Grey at the breakdown. His name was lost to time, history became legend, legend faded to myth, stars came and went and his name at the breakdown was lost for a near eternity. He usually made one of Randy’s line outs to the bloke walking the dog, kid in a pram or anywhere except the line. There were some reasonable passages of play and great defence, but there were a lot of scums due to fingers and thumbs. Still it meant the front row could practice with their touch, pause, touch me again, engage, touch me just here, harder, push. H0m0's. Isaac was doing a lot of chasing back and saving tackles. Would it be good to have legs like Keelty? I'll pass. Half time we were nil/nil and it was anyone’s game.

Coles gave some inspirational speech, he was apparently Mr. wet underpants 1989, more by accident than design. He has a shit arm and a bad tattoo as well. You can usually find him in William Hills waiting for them to weigh in at Newton Abbot. Anyway he was our captain for the day and we had it all to play for, despite him.

Second half and we began to recycle subs to keep some fresh legs on the pitch. Kick off from Coles saw Grant, who has a face that shows the expression of trapped wind, take out their catcher into touch. We were beginning to defend a little more but losing ball with one man attacks. City eventually got one over. We didn’t look likely to score much in the second half. Fabien was doing something, but I wasn’t sure what. The last time I saw legs like that, there was a message tied to them. Manu was once described as the pink sheep of the family, but he’s happily married now, a bit like Elton John was. We gave away a penalty, they scored 3. Towards the end Laurant managed to get a yellow card. I think it was a late tackle, but he could have been pulling hair. Anyway it was a disgrace. During the penalty, Mr Keelty Snr. took exception to Kowloon warming up in the try area. After a polite word, he savaged a few players and the ref had to intervene. Is this a first? Fighting with another team? We let in another try and the fat lady started to sing.

There was a healthy kitty this week, so there were a few beers and a possy who made it to Coyote. I can vaguely remember seeing the Swedish Schnipples, but there were no single blokes in with a chance to test her suspension. Wet donkey jacket stuff, with a pocket of spanners, my smoky herring… Isaac was man of the match for tireless defending and running about.

Typhoon Saturday, who knows, watch this space? For those who still need kit, put and IN on the website. Final score City 15 – Typhoons 0, appalling.

I thought you would like to see a picture of Mick Hucknall singing Karioke.