Dated this, the fourteenth day of June.
Mr Dearest Josephine,
I send this with my deepest love for you. I yearn to be home, to see your beautiful face just one more time. My heart craves this to be so but alas, my head tells me otherwise�
It has been four long days since the campaign against the French began. We have suffered many losses, and there�s no end in sight. Yesterday, my best friend Peter was taken. This is the biggest loss, one of which I find hard to take; we both signed up on the same day and has been the closest thing to a brother I ever had. It is with both great regret and vast anticipation that I know I will be re-united with him sooner rather than later.
However, brighter fortunes ensue; your Father led his battalion to a formidable victory that has risen the lowly spirits of my comrades in the camp. He is a man of great valour, someone who has served his country with distinction and honour. I could only dream of being half the man that he is.
I am hopeful that our cause will not be in vain. When I was younger we were taught that the righteous always prevail. If this is the case my heart sings; we have no reason to be afraid. Our motto is, �Maim or be maimed�, something which we have followed with impressive success.
This, I send by messenger. I only pray that by the time this reaches you, nothing has happened to me.
Your Ever-admiring Percival.
Dated this, the seventeenth day of June.
My Dearest Josie,
It is with immense shame that I right to you this letter. Yesterday me and a number of my fellow warriors were captured by the French. I only yearn that I would have put up a greater fight in order that I could have held my head high representing my country with a valour befitting you�
The only blessing is that I was reunited with Peter. I was overjoyed at the unexpected sight of my most trusty comrade.
There is something I have to ask of you: whatever you see or hear in the news regarding the bar in downtown Paris known as �le bon bon� and the riot that took place in around the surrounding area, chances are, won�t be true; we (the English) didn�t start it�as for joining in as soon as the opportunity arose�well, that�s a different story altogether�
Peter, as I have said, was in the cell across from me and he told me of the tale of how he got taken out by a pair of perfectly aimed CS gas canisters (he was whacking a chair leg over some Turks� head at the time). He certainly made the law earn their keep and may have even made the ten O�clock news (there was a camera nearby he says as his head was just disappearing between the crack of the police-van doors, so you may have got a glimpse of him).
Two Germans got whizzed in here yesterday evening, so that was at least some consolation. They both spoke fairly good English (one of them, Fritz, who has a blond mullet and moustache, was easier to understand than Peter but then again, unlike Pete, he didn�t have the entire set of his front teeth missing). Geoff Hurst got mentioned more than once, I can tell you and it�s a crying shame that they�re in the cell at the side of me because, as you know, my Goose-step looks so authentic it�s frightening!
After the Tunisia game, a few of the lads and myself went downtown and joined in with the fight against the Argies. It was like the Falklands all over again. It was our finest hour as we escaped arrest several times. They even got the water cannons out on us in that one but that didn�t deter us as we advanced relentlessly on.
Anyway, I hope to be deported within the next week or so giving me ample time to recover and prepare for the Millwall game against QPR.
Your Ever-faithful Percival.
The above are two letters sent during the World Cup Finals held in France, Nineteen ninety-eight by the notorious football hooligan Percy �Brick Head� Johnson.