With just
two weeks to go to the Cup Final (except for viewers in the Northern
Reeks who will have a second chance to hear The Rev. Ian Paisley in
conversation with Graham Norton) intense pressure is building up
within the seething cauldron that is The Griffin taproom, spiritual home
of crisis boy-band Finger V.
As someone who
has built his reputation on charity (more games thrown away than any
other team this season) Fr. Megson has long been loathe to kick an
opponent who is lying bloodied and senseless on the ground.
However, after much wrestling with his conscience, he now feels that
this might in fact be the safest time and place to kick an
opponent........ so here goes.
"History tells us
that all evil Empires eventually crumble", mumbled Fr. Megson ex
cathedra as he polished off his third cream egg in as many minutes," and
Finger V are no exception. This is a must win match for them. The
directors of Holts demand instant gratification in the shape of cups
and, frankly one measly league championship is scant return for all the
beer that has been pumped into their underachieving guzzlers this
season. Admittedly their eccentric manager, Marshall Dillon, is
not without a modicum of animal magnetism (witness the recent
Curious Case Of The Dog In His Nightgown!), and his English has come
on leaps and bounds since last season, but frankly I will be surprised
if he is not back managing a kebab stall in Albania by the end of the
summer. He seems fated to lead teams to within a gnat's whisker of
a double climax and then being asked to stand aside while someone else
finishes off the job in hand. Or at least that's my reading of the
situation based on my extensive knowledge of Barbara Cartland novels."
However our
fastidious cleric is taking nothing for granted.
"I did not get
where I am today by not doing my homework (and I still have the three
smiley faces and the Zeta+ mark I received for my Why Sassenach
children are boring, with particular reference to The Janet and John
oeuvres dissertation back in 1959 to prove it). I have done a
complete statistical analysis of the opposition's strengths and
weaknesses and unfortunately it proves that they still have at least a
mathematical chance of beating us on the night. My greatest fear
is that they might get a question on local football teams right - thus
becoming the first mortals to correctly answer the vexed question of
Manchester City since the heady days of Joe Mercer. Such a lucky
break might give them the impetus to go on and finish with a score
approaching double figures and I don't think even the finely honed
Brains of Oak could compete at that level.
"That is why I am
now asking for your assistance in a local campaign I am organising
(vendetta is an ugly word, don't you think?). If anyone out there
can lay their hands on a klaxon of any kind, or a dog that likes to howl
for some tender loving throughout the night, can they please bring them
along at midnight for the next two weeks and I will give you further
instructions when we meet up initially at: Dunwinnin, 16 Spatchcock Mews
M20? You can find the home addresses of the other members of
Finger V simply by tuning in to 'www.weknowwhereyoulive.dot cotton' or
from any good police station.
"Additionally I
have invited the vociferous fan club of a well known and successful
Irish stand up comedian to come along and chant the name of their hero
under the bedroom window. A loud chorus of 'Dylan Moran forever'
should be enough to eat away the final vestiges of their manager's
flimsy self-belief.
"And thanks
finally to Mike Heale for promising to come along each night and
serenade our rapidly disintegrating opposition with his inimitable
rendition of Morrissey's greatest hits. I never fail to be amazed
at Mike's uncanny ability to mimic that plaintive note of disaffected
alienation that has, over the years, made Morrissey Manchester's best
loved wuss."
Fr. Megson broke
off at this point to go and book an open-topped Magic Bus for the
victorious homecoming parade. He certainly lives the dream,
doesn't he?