GUESS WHO’S BACK….

....back again..Max is back.....tell one friend.

No it’s not M&M, it’s me, Max. You may not recognise me as I am now a shade of brown commonly referred to in B&Q as "Turd Brown". Donda este la lavatoria? I know what you are thinking. In the words of Ja Rule in his summer hit song Livin’ it up, “Uh Oh another episode” Tune. I agree.

To quote Feeder, "7 days in the sun", over 30 degs every day, beach down the road with plenty of flesh on show, private pool, a break in at the villa while we were out (scary, although they decided against stealing my brothers Ipswich season ticket which was in his wallet..surprising) plenty of sexy Spanish ladies, a flight back to the country at 4:15am with my college course starting at 10am the same day, paella mixta, and the most scariest theme park ride ever invented. I didn’t catch its name although I presume it was called "El Crazio Sickio and then Deathio with multiple upio and downio lasting for at least a dayio". Safe to say I did not proceed onto it after one glimpse of it in action.

There has also been a new all time high, or should that be low, in Spanish football shirt buying/wearing. PK's Valencia, Maxs' Real. A frightening collection indeed.

Now add to that illustrious duo, Maxs' new Real away (or third or fourth) in dazzling black and white (very stylish and only 35 euros) Its good but it’s not right.

One more for you. A crazy new shirt that can only be described as "loco" (20 euros from back street "Sporto Shoppo" in Torrevieja. It was probably only 20 euros for a good reason). I am not really sure of the team it represents so I will describe it to you so you can tell me.

It has a River Plate type red stripe and white background and a massive yellow honeycomb shape filled with a black bumble bee dans le middle!! Whoop de whoop n****r what?

I think it may be Rayo Vallecano as the shop assistant managed to relay some lispish latino in my direction while I creamed my pants at the sight of the shirt. (I couldn’t see the famous brown Coventry number there although it would have fitted in nicely as Messers Horscroft and Crossley will testify)

The badge contains the letters R V M in that order and a set of crossed swords. If anyone can enlighten me, Lise that is aimed mainly at you, as to who this team is then post a reply on the message board and I will reward you handsomely.

I see all my fantasy football points have been wiped off in my absence (I believe I have around 300 points in total) but who cares about that stupid league anyway. Certainly not me or my bro or that Hut, that’s for sure.

Ipswich march on with a classic 2-1 defeat at home to Bradford, before bouncing back with 8 against Avenir Gotaclue (a team worse than Leicester?), including 3 more for the wondrous Pablo. Is there any end to my admiration for all thing Espagne, except daygo ba***rd thieves of course. Cock, bitch, cock, bitch, mutha f****r.

I am now going to bed to sleep for around 4 days. Au revior mon petit pois.

HUNCOTE CC – EPISODE 7: CANT STAY LONG, MODELS TO MEET AND STUFF.

Right, back by popular demand….me. It seems that if I leave you all alone for a couple of days you all start to think/wish something terrible has happened to me and you all start going stir crazy amongst yourselves. In fact what has happened to me has been nothing short of fabulous.

As you all know I am on the dole, which is great. Money for nothing and my chicks for free (the chicks are of course optional) Add to this a week spent at the hugely impressive “Suffolk Magazine” on work experience (not just making tea like Twiglet and KP you know) and you are probably thinking “Wowzers! Max is a really cool guy” Let me tell you now….it gets better.

Friday 2nd August – Max attends fashion shoot for magazine and spends day as “Reflector Man”

This may sound neither technical nor glamorous. That is until I tell you that I spent the whole day in sunny Suffolk weather standing next to (at alternate intervals) Jo, 24 from Ipswich and Robyn, 23 from Stowmarket. My job, simply reflect the rays onto their glorious faces using a massive silver round thing whilst standing approximately 3 inches away from them in all their model like beauty.

I know, I know, fantastic isn’t it?

I can’t get any cooler can I? Yes.

Saturday 3rd August – Max purchases 1997 Escort with twin airbags and power steering at a bargain £3000. 12 months warranty, tax and insurance and only 46,000 miles on t’clock.

I am also earning money “on the side” thanks to a cash in hand job at my dads and a job for a local builder/cricketer driving materials around for him.

In conclusion, I am neither bored, nor lazy. I am loaded, have a new chick magnet, hang around with models on a regular basis and have a new celebrity friend in the one and only Kevin Painter. The darts player. From Ipswich. He beat Phil Taylor once. Oh never mind. Didn’t I mention this new acquaintance? Well, after writing a piece on Ipswich and Norwich football clubs I had to get quotes from famous people. I couldn’t get any one famous so I rung Kevin Painter. A nice bloke and a true friend.

I am still not too abundant in the run department and my knee is not the best but I can’t hope for everything can I? I did recently play at Norfolk’s county ground in front of (some) fans, two electric score boxes and the Norfolk captain. Cricket is for sissies anyway right Neilson?

Smell you later.

Oh and try and do these things:

1) Be as good as me.

2) Enter the Huncote CC fantasy football “Super” league. False advertising problems with the “Super” bit don’t you think.

3) Succeed.

4) Avoid a bout of diahorrea.

5) Go to Spain for a week. Didn’t I mention that either? Oh well next time guys. Don’t wuzza.

Huncote CC: Episode 6 - Living la Vida Loca.

Hi there dudes.

Glad to be hearing of all the japes and scrapes that are resonating around Huncote since I have left. It seems to me that you are all suffering without me. May I suggest you read my last report in order to pick up some advice on what to do without me.

Since you read my last report (those of you who actually did. From the message board turn out I imagine only PK, BISTAK and Betty have done so) I have done so much. I am now an official member of "The Dole Club", we like to call ourselves "In the Dole-drums". We meet regularly to discuss life and love. I cannot wait until Friday when we meet up, queuing behind that counter, waiting for our cash money to roll into our bank accounts at the expense of the workers out there. The community spirit between us is second to none. Smelly man is usually first there eager for a piece of the action. I imagine I will be second in line, closely followed by One-legged man, Fat woman with truant kid and then last will be the perennially late Lateo. These nicknames may seem a little close to the bone but we all know they are meant in jest. Incidentally my nickname is The Banker, at least I think that is what they call me.

Next week is going to be really exciting as we are going for a swift half in the local afterwards, which will be funded by you, the taxpayer. That can be your nickname actually "The Taxpayer". Live music will be on show thanks to Lateo and his harmonica, whilst Fat woman's truant kid will be performing a live rendition of "Stupid Mistake" by Gareth Gates. I canny wait.

As you may have heard, if you read the message board (again, I am probably speaking to a select band here) my form on the cricket strip has improved significantly since I left you guys. My wretched run of 6's has dried up to be replaced by a consistent string of 20's and the odd 30 and 40. Batting at 4 or 5 I have come into my own and am finally reaching my potential again after being held back at Huncote for all those long years. The pressure to perform really weighed heavy on my shoulders. Here I am free to succeed or fail without reprimand.

Anyway, enough aboot cricket………..#I've made a stupid mistake, a stupid mistake#. Don't worry guys, I haven't really made a stupid mistake, like walking around without any trousers on without realising for a day or two, I was just getting in the mood for the entertainment next Friday. I hope Lateo puts on a good show. I'm sure he will.

Right that's enough from me for now, the sun is poking its head through the clouds once more and I have stopped peeling from the last bout of bathing, so I can head out again and top up on the old skin cancer.

If anyone is reading, please do these things:

1) Sign on 2) Get your money for nothing.. 3) ..and your chicks for free. 4) Win your first game of Pro Evolution Soccer against your brother and celebrate endlessly until he assures you he will never play again unless you shut up. 5) Shut up straight away so you can keep on playing. 6) Lose the next 5 games heavily.

Adios my amigos, and remember………#She's into superstitions, black cats and voodoo dolls, I feel a premonition, that girls gonna make me fall# (Had to do that to give some relevance to the title. Soz)

HUNCOTE CC: EPISODE 5 - COPING WITH PERSONAL LOSS.

Guys…I have been gone now for some time. By now I suspect most of you are at your lowest ebb. It is in times like these that Huncote CC needs to pull together in order to make up for the huge hole left by my absence. If we are to become league champions for the first time since………..ask JW when the last time was… (1922 I think, JW took 1,000,000 wickets, big gay Al got a zillion runs, the weather was hot, the tracks were bouncy, men got hit on the head and laughed, women were young and busty and Struths melons were small and developing)…then we need to play as a team. As the ball disappears over the boundary off Knibbsys bowling for the 5th time in the over don’t despair. Don’t think how different it would have been if only Max was slinging them down; just remember this…”One team, one dream”.

As the tears that were shed upon my departure begin to dry on the cold, hard, sun-starved ground at Huncote SSC try to think of better times. Times when I was there guiding you through when you needed me the most. That time when I got a third ball duck, all the times I scored 6, or the time when my bowling got hit into every surrounding field within a 70-mile radius. Those moments you should cherish when you hit the low points you are undoubtedly facing up to as I speak. Remember, “When you are low, just be glad you’re car is not on tow”.

In Ian Silk Chez Cross, you have a young but flourishing captain at the helm. After being taught some severe lessons by me on the art of captaincy he has improved at least 5%. His batting has also been prodded along under my guidance. The facilities at the sporting mecca that is Huncote SSC are now second to…everyone else’s. Sightscreens, covers, changing rooms all excellent. If only the standard of half time tea would improve then we may begin to see some results on the cricket wicket. Remember the basics, “Wickets win cricket”

Of course there is only so much I can say to help you pull through these times of change. I believe I have been a crucial cog in the Huncote machine for the past three years and under my tuition the club has come one leap and one bound. I am now doing the same for two clubs down here (who appreciate my talents more) and I am glad to see the Australian professional and the paid, RAF professional at Garboldisham learning so much from me. I would also remind you of my ability to pull families together, remember the lost lonely twig and his branch like mother who were reunited. I was mildly pleased to meet my long lost and rather confused son, Fraz, although I never intend to speak to him again.

As I leave you now, send my regards to the Furious one (everyone’s favourite) and his lover………I mean friend, Crazy Kev. The Midfield General remains on the loose although we all know who he is, avoid him at all costs. The Chestnut Mild Massive will be sorely missed and I am glad to see the much revered Weird Beer List has appeared on the website (?) in honour of the aforementioned “Massive”. I wont hold my breath waiting for that to appear.

I believe Huncote will never recover from losing me. Don’t worry though keep trying.

You guys crack me up.

Every time.

Do these things as you fight back the tears:

1) Graduate from Loughborough University

2) Start a course in September in Magazine Journalism.

3) Do a two-week work placement at either Wisden or 4-4-2.

4) Say you will go home early to get a job and then sit around doing nothing, much to the annoyance of your mother.

5) Play Pro Evolution Soccer on the PS2 at least three times a day.

5a) Lose to your brother each time.

5b) Punch him repeatedly in the face each time 5a) happens.

5c) Persuade brother not to tell mum after 5b) has happened.

6) Play cricket a lot but still get relatively few runs.

See you, bye

HUNCOTE CC – EPISODE 4: HUNCOTE SUFFER FROM JUBI-GLEE. Hi there.

I can’t quite surmise neatly enough what a phenomenal time has been had by all since my last report. The highs and lows of the emotional rollercoaster experienced by all has been indescribable. First this and then that, all the time non-stop fun, laughter and joy. All I can say is “There is no I in team”

Our monarch has recently celebrated her Golden Jubi-glee (50 years in charge of you stinking peasants in case you were too thick to realise) and Huncote Cricket Club embraced the occasion with numerous fun-packed Jubi-glee related activities. At Hathern Old Boys two weeks ago, certain members of the team dedicated their outstanding cricketing performances on the day to the sovereign and then to compound the ecstasy of the event, frequented a local hostelry and sampled a pint of Golden Reign in honour of “our Lizzy” The pint tasted rank but after the “Chestnut Mild Experience” of a while back, many have no taste-buds remaining in their mouths and could therefore enjoy it slightly more than they usually would have. A night out on the piss followed and several pools of vomit were also dedicated to Queeny McQueen, brother of Steve. A win for the seconds on the same day against the same club, which has just this minute been dedicated to the Lizmeist, completed a horrendously successful weekend of Huncote CC domination. First Hathern Old Boys CC, next.. the world. hahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sorry aboot that.

Seriously though, who cares about the Queen. I don’t. Just remember, “Communicate to Eradicate” OK?

The bank holiday weekend enabled some severe sight screen construction to take place. Masterminded by the evil genius of BBT (Betty the Bed Thief for the goldfish brained amongst you), a group of foolhardy veterans assembled at the ground to build quite possibly the best sight screens you could ever imagine. (For more details and photographs of Kirsty’s jugs click on the appropriate link on the website) Not quite tall enough to reach the bowlers arm, punctured wheels and susceptible to a puff of wind equivalent to one of Jamies smelly farts, they will struggle to be bettered anywhere, unless you take a trip to the local retard hospital on “Building Day” when the theme of the day is “Build your own cricket sight screen using blue tac, a straw and a piece of A4 graph paper in 10 seconds” Then you may see a better effort. Only joking guys, you really tried your best. On the subject of ground “improvements” a cover has also been purchased although it seems to have been misplaced and we are currently using a giant piece of crinkly paper in its place. A piece of advice for you, “You have to be mean to build a good sight screen” Either that or don’t turn up to help at all. I followed advice b.

A quick word here to our very own Liz who I hear was injured in a unfortunate sight screen collapsing episode during construction. The horrific incident could have been prevented had KP moved to her aid instead of standing laughing as her thigh was crushed by the falling masonry. Unbelievable. “Bowl them straight, seal their fate” I say. I am sure you will all agree.

The World Cup heh? Brilliant. “To win the World Cup, you need a fully grown dog, not a pup” that’s what I say.

Rain on Sunday meant a test for the aforementioned piece of crinkly paper in an attempt to keep the rain from the pitch. This was achieved with great success, but the ocean that had formed on the outfield meant no play for the lucky lads. All this meant another chance for some serious team bondage, erm bonding. The venue this time was Al’s Bar on the west side of Philly. The hard core three of DJ, Fat Boy and Maximum Power were joined by the Kirby twins at an American Pool bar worthy of an appearance in any film which has a pool room scene in it. Big Gay Al served us beer and balls and off we skipped to the table full of excitement of the ensuing bondage. We were dog shite but as they say in pool, “To win, you had better notify us of your next of kin” I agree. We clearly didn’t adhere to such sound advice and as a result we couldn’t have pocketed something that was really easy to put in a pocket.

Anyway guys I have to leave you now. I have so much to do and such a small amount of time to do it in. You know how it is, “Little time, all is not fine”

For next time complete these easy errands:

1) Build a decent sight screen.

2) Go to Alton Towers.

3) Clean your under pants.

4) Invent some interesting catchphrases (for examples see above text)

5) Say you will walk 15 miles on a cold, wet, windy Sunday morning with your mum (bragging you will run it all) but give up after 5 miles complaining of a headache and tiredness and get picked up by your dad in BBT’s nifty Peugeot and miss out on a McDonalds breakfast..

See you soon, goodbye, God save the Queen, if you can be bothered.

HUNCOTE CC - EPISODE 3: VIVE LA REVOLUTION. Bono estente, bonjour (does anyone know the word suggested for bonjour on spellchecker? I will tell you. Its Bangor. How hilarious) and welcome to the third edition of Max’s Marvellous Miracle Moon Machine Mumba Maroon Column.

Some of my more regular fans may notice the lack of a Star Wars reference in the opening title sequence that appears at the top of this page in letters and words. This is because I don’t know what the next episode of Star Wars is to be called although Vive La Revolution isn’t a bad suggestion n’est pas mon Lucas?

Another day another dollar. It’s dog eat dog out there you know.

Since I last communicated to you using the power of the internet, not much of note has occurred.

HANG ON……………..YES IT HAS!!!!!

The race night for starters. How could I forget?? Dogs mistreated and trained to run around a sandy track chasing a fluffy rabbit and recorded on to VHS for the enjoyment of a bunch of pissed up cricketers and campers. What fun we had. Money was betted like there was no tomorrow. 50 pence pieces changed hands and big winnings were returned (£1.50 at one stage if I remember rightly). The spirit of unquenched joy spread through the clubhouse like wildfire as some people won, some didn’t, some didn’t care, some did, campers and cricketers drank, sang, danced and gambled together as if they had known each other for a heck of along time. One thing is for sure, everyone had a grand time comme ci comme ca.

NB A note of advice for all budding punters out there, don’t let Dave H choose a horse for you when you want it to win. If you want one to lose, or die, or have no legs then let him choose. To win, best let Blindy McBlind choose. He may do better. Good try anyway Dave. (?)

Some cricket has also occurred since I entertained last but as I did not feature too heavily I cannot remember much of it. All I can remember through the haze of a two week retrospective glance is the emergence of a new spin bowling prodigy, of first team status, who is as yet unidentified. More on this when I find out. (Ps. I am talking about me)

Then we saw the French invasion. To mark the 21st year of life on this planet for a certain member of the Spencer clan, a whole bunch of frogs came over the channel to join in the ceremony. I couldn’t get them to bloody shut up. “Oui oui” this “la poubelle” that, “merde” the other. Gordon Bennett don’t they ever shut their cake holes? And teaching the younger members of our club French swear words really was out of order. Who would do something like that?

The Chestnut Massive was represented at the bash and duly donned cravats hastily made from beer mats around their necks to enter dans le spirit. You could say Lenny Cravat’s made an appearance. Get it? Lenny Kravatz the famous singer…….Lenny Cravat’s, French neck garments. Laugh. Mainly.

Talking of singing (unfortunately)………….. a singing session ensued much to the dismay of everyone alive. Appearances on stage were made by DJ Mitcho, Kirbo, Eddieo, Auntie Anneo, the women who sings “Like a John Virgo”, Ross Spenno etc etc etc etc. I would go on but I am still mentally tortured by the sound that escaped from their vocal chords and then fell from their mouths. I cannot speak any more of this atrocity. The bouncy castle provided light relief momentarily but after Tko had groped all the women, the appeal began to wear off.

“All is not well in the state of Denmark” said Hamlet, or alternatively “All is not well in the state of Silk’s house” said Matty, as Betty the Bed Thief or BBT as he shall now be referred to, lived up to his name (BBT) and stole a bed in Chez Silk from the rostered on student. Me. Comme t’appelle tu? I say. Your thoughts on this issue wouldn’t be appreciated.

So, what more can I say? Nothing.

Au revoir mon petit pois. Live well.

Tasks for next episode:

1) Try hard.

2) Give it your best shot.

3) Right clearly and concisely.

4) Don’t feed the animals.

5) Give me money. In cash form.

See you bye.

HUNCOTE CC – EPISODE 2: ATTACK OF THE CHESNUT MILD. Well, the season is now well under way and what a enthralling start it has been by crikey. Five wins and three defeats for all teams, with the 2nd’s winning their first two games under newly installed skipper, Steady Eddie and the 1st’s being unlucky in one and completely dominant in the other under the punters pal. The Sunday team also cantered to victory in their first two games until a horrendous capitulation against a Northampton Cavaliers team captained by none other than our own first team member, Betty Driver. More of this unfortunate event later.

The rain of the weekend just gone by meant no cricketing action of any kind for the 1st’s as Great Glen was hit by a tropical monsoon, (much to the dismay of TK who wanted to play avec wellies and umbrella. Crossley not impressed. Where are those dummies?), whereas the seconds played out a rain affected defeat against the same opposition at Huncote, whose pitch and ground never cease to amaze me in their resilience to the English wet season.

The rain break encountered by the 1st’s gave a few of the team members the opportunity to chance upon some local public houses on the way back to Huncote.

A Seat Ibiza, filled with Fat Twiggy, DJ Mitch and Max Power, was last seen by the returning convey turning into a pub whose name momentarily escapes my memory. One possible reason for this memory failure could be the 100% proof, tar black drink known as “Chestnut Mild”, although quite what was Mild about it I have still to discover. Two pints of this beverage were swiftly ordered by the DJ and downed in several painful attempts by Max and Mitch. Fat Lad opted for a more sedate pint of Pedigree which all of a sudden looked very appealing to the fool hardy Chestnut Mild Massive. From here on in very little can be remembered through the haze of a pint of CM. Two more local pubs were frequented with equally as disgusting local brews being consumed in each. A fight nearly broke out with some yokels, a tasty bar girl was leered at and a huge baguette was shared by Mitch and the floor. The group of three shall now be referred to as the Chestnut Mild Massive, a gang more powerful in rural Leicestershire than any other. Mess with them at your peril.

“Chez Crossley”, the local youth hostel, opened up its doors for a new seasons trading at the commencement of action and was instantly choc-a-bloc from weekend one with “the students” and Betty piling in and slothing around at the drop of a hat. Beer and papers and a crazy dog seem to be a recurring feature of the Silkmeister’s hospitality. Great work from the Silky one. Mention must also go out to Struth Ruth’s nearby hotel which provides a morning breakfast whenever required (as long as you arrive before 8:30 am. Yes, that’s 8:30 AM!!!) The staff at McDonalds also deserve some credit for their friendly (!) and efficient (!?) Sunday morning breakfast service.

The Market Harborough half marathon and general community fete arrived and passed, baked in glorious sunshine and memories of keepy ups with the Super Santos, ice creams, flip flops, near death running experiences and general frivolity will live long in the memory. Congratulations go out to Adcocko, Dko and Silky McSilko who battered around the course with varying degrees of success. It should also be noted here that Silk went on to bat 40 overs for an unbeaten career best 125 in the same afternoon, a feat surely never before seen in the world, ever.

As for the defeat against the Driver Cavaliers I mentioned previously, I will say a few words. A poor batting performance meant that a defeat was on the cards as Huncote posted a miserly 103 all out. A bowling attack lacking in strike power (until the introduction of Mutiah Swords near the end) managed to contain the effervescent Cavaliers until 3 or 4 overs from the finish line when the winning runs were dispatched by A.Random with Driver looking on proudly from the non strikers end. After taking four wickets and remaining unbeaten on 7, Taxi collected the MoM champagne at the presentation ceremony. Tres bien mon Betty. The batting of George Crossley and Frazer Hubbard at the end was one highlight for the spectators and also may have provided a glimpse into the future of Huncote CC.

For my next report please accomplish these tasks:

1) Drink a pint of Chestnut Mild. 2) Fight some rural yokels. 3) Find Sam’s boomerang from the tree at Huncote. (That’s aimed at you Brewin) 4) Play “Random Throw and Catch” with a piddly American football and some young children. 5) Sing a song in the style of a club singer or Sandy Toksvig.

Goodbye my friends.

HUNCOTE CC - EPISODE 1: DENNIS THE MENACE. DISCLAIMER: This series of reports written by me, Max Swords, will not be written in reverse order as the “Star Wars” type title may suggest. That would be impossible as I cannot see into the future. Why would you even think that you idiots.

IT BEGINS. Well, what can I say? The sunshine and warmth of April has deserted us. It’s replacement….rain, wind, clouds, coldness, snow and probably pneumonia. All this can mean just one thing………….the cricket season has begun!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hoo-bloody-rah. The first weekend of May fills people with varying emotions. The uncontrollable 8 year olds-Christmas Eve-type excitement exhibited by TK, the cautious, realistic pessimism demonstrated by Twigger and the aggressive yet jovial attitude contributed by our very own DJ are just three working examples of the aforementioned emotions that I mentioned above, using words. 

This columnist prefers the “if it’s hot it’s good” attitude, leaving me perennially disappointed thanks to the duff English climate. One good thing about cricket, especially in the case of Huncote CC, is the quality of food available during the half time interval, often referred to as “tea”. The name “tea” gives away it’s hidden charms to the uninitiated, namely…tea. Tea is great. The drink is essential for survival. The half hour break gives us a chance to defrost and prepare for action in the second tedious half. The food is plentiful, available on demand, ripe (in the case of Ruth’s ever improving melons) and commonly regarded as the best in…….Huncote, if not the world. 

Well, probably not the world. That may be a lie. I got a little carried away for one second. The backroom staff at Huncote CC are only mentioned in passing and do not get the credit they deserve. The tea making elite of Struth, Liz and Hannah provide inspiration for the younger generation of tea makers in Leicestershire. Grass roots development of tea makers is crucial if we are to prosper as a club. The senior ground staff of Al, Silk and Spenno provide the same role models for aspiring groundsmen and without their constant pitch work, during and outside of the season, cricket would not be possible, no matter how poor a standard we bestow on spectators and opposition alike. Many more deserve a mention but my editors tight word limitation and time constraints leave me with no choice but to mention them in passing, like the credits of a great film: Runner: Eddies wife, Lighting director: Spenno’s wife, Production Assistants: Liz’s’ kids (except Lauren), Directors: the old(er) guys who are responsible for the clubhouse, ground etc but whose names I do not have (soz guys, you know who you are…..probably), Supporters: Dave and Polly, George and Ben, Georgie, Anyone else who I don’t know: 

Those people. CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!!!!! You are all winners, collect your prize from me next time you see me. (You don’t really win a prize except for my everlasting respect, which you cant really collect from me so don’t bother asking. Many of you might not even now who I am. Unlucky for you heh?) This is my first report of many (?) which is why I am setting the scene of a great club to anyone out there in cyberspace who happens to stumble across our omnipotent web site which lays bare our soul to the world using the power of the internet. The club is like a sleeping giant. One in a very long coma (possibly terminal). The season promises to be one of lows and even lowers, although all the time played in good spirit and humour, losing gracefully and winning……never. Goodbye for now my friends. Use the time between now and our next congregation to do three things: 1) Envisage the world in a better way. 2) Provide financial support for a small child in Afghanistan. 3) Learn to moonwalk. 3a) See above except using your hands. 3b) See 3) and 3a) except now with your eyes closed. See you, bye. By the way……. Frazer, I am your father. THE END.

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