Fuck me... what DIDN'T happen in this maelstrom of a match against the Mickelham mixed bag of genteel geriatrics and vitriolic hyper-homophobic pre-pubescents????. In honour of half their team who's favourite advert must be the Pampers Trainers "I'm a big boy now", replete with equally inane and puerile soundtrack, we regressed back to a playground scenario after a season of very 'adult' scorelines... but didn't revert to screaming temper tantrums, unlike some of the opposition who are in serious need of help from CH4's Supernanny.

Before we could really start to get stuck in to beating a team on level points, the ref decided that he'd rather go home and watch the Scouse/Mank FA Cup belter than boss a Div. 9 South match and pulled up with a back problem. Enter Pierluigi Donovan to add another ingredient to impending spectacle. NOTE: the 'Pierluigi' has nothing to do with Collina but is the chef at James's favourite pizza takeway, Sloppy Bottybelli, obviously frequented on a bi-nightly basis. Before we could accustom ourselves to the new, more laconic style of reffing, ANOTHER injury as Mozzer's studs entangled in the extra mozzarella topping but, thankfully, he determined to continue.

Unfortunately, only to see a rocket whistle past him after a cross was messily dealt with and fell to their streaky-haired, There's Something About Mary striker. Wearmouth went ballistic but the goal acted as the catalyst for us to start playing some excellent stuff, spreading the ball around fluidly, applying pressure and creating chances. Dave's throws and corners were causing havoc: Mike had a good header well-saved, Wearmouth nearly replicated their goal but smashed one just over, and Aaron almost removed one of their defender's stomach, colon and spleen in one go with a howitzer that would have ripped a hole in the net.

We had a few shaky defensive moments dealing with their youngsters pace and protecting Andy but the lack of panic when clearing, especially from Stacker, set up numerous attacks orchestrated by Luke "The Boss" Kelly in midfield. The dominance had to reap reward at some point we equalised before half-time and the first period had passed competitively but with few signs of the imminent malice about to be unleashed... and the rampant goalfest!

5: Drinks Tom Cruise described me as: "a joy to work with, Will taught me all I know, his technique was impeccable, although I must state that I am a Scientologist and not scatalogical as Will seems to be sometimes", whilst making my favourite film ever - Cocktail. The wolves may have suckled Romulus and Remus on pure, unadulterated lupine milk but this provided me the inspiration for what has to be the most gorgeous concoction known to man... or lycanthrope... rwrooaaargh! Simply take freshly squeezed milk from the teat of a husky � I prefer to suck the fluid directly; using the hands is too cold and not as much fun � mix with Mesopotamian orange, � la Alexander the Great, and mead from the Benedictine monastery on Lindisfarne. YUM, YUM, YUM, YUM YUM... Alternatively, simply procure of the barman a glass of Baileys, ice, vodka and orange; mix and allow to congeal sufficiently. Then, volunteer (?) to slug a triple whiskey, roar like a rapid dog, froth at the mouth, and go on your merry way... or fall off your stool like I did!

Mike came off at the break after playing one of his best halves, staying composed out of position on the left and putting plenty of deft passes through to the strikers. The same could NOT be said of Dunc, in his accustomed left-wing slot (theoretically), who entered the fray like a headless chicken and almost immediately committed a trademark ludicrously stupid fowl that ruffled Wearmouth's feathers and had Ken tearing his hair out. From the free-kick, they got to the left byline and crossed staright at Ken who was busy combing his flaxxon locks!
Contentious Decision Alert: Stacker had his back turned but hands raised protecting the coiffure and James gave a penalty [recompense for last week's decision? Ed] which was duly dispatched past hobbling Mozzer.

Despite being just a little miffed at the spot kick our heads stayed clear and concentrated and we regained the lead in double-quick fashion only to be pegged back to 3-3.
Contentious Decision Alert: After clearing a cross, the defence moved out in unison and were utterly gobsmacked as the ball looped back into the box leaving two Micks strikers unopposed... but no offside! Hmm, hmm, pffr; where WAS the last man when the ball was played? Answers on a postcard to Oxford Road, Chiswick.

Again, the whole team remained composed and the defence tightened in indignation with Mark and Bowman increasingly assured having negated the age difference with some astute tactical awareness. Kelso started to push forward more propelled by a howling pack of wolves' vociferous vocal encouragement. This released Dave to progress and Luke sensed the game's balance needed tipping, utlising the space opening on the right. Dave flung in a cross from wide out right and Dunc, finally having realised which planet he was on and where he was SUPPOSED to be under the rasping tutelage of Ken, stormed in to meet the ball on the volley at the back post but directed it just wide. Luke almost sneaked in at an acute angle but the keeper saved well at his near post, Aaron had a couple of chances but couldn't maintain his record of superb strikes this season, uncharacteristically flailing wide - he deserved better after being double-marked all match and had capitalised on this to create swathes on space for his team-mates. Perry, on for Dave, weaved his magic down the right and found Dunc wide open on the penalty spot but he could only manage to shove the ball straight down the goalie's throat.

Wearmouth kept pressing the lads to find every last joule of energy, leading by example and taking a massive weight off the defence, having dropped deeper to ensure no more breaches and allow Luke to impose himself in the centre circle. With Micks starting to self-implode, only mildly encouraged by a few subtle words of wisdom from Stimpson (?), we gained impetus and put the game beyond doubt with a couple of strikes to make it 5-3 as the clock spluttered down.

They became more fractious with Aaron, not simply content with running them ragged up-front, firing up their left-back with a few well chosen comments. If he wanted to have a go at Aaron with his handbag he would have been met with a sack of coal coming the other way! James had kept the lid on Micks simmering cauldron but couldn't stop the pressure cooker superheating when their attacker reacted to another of Mark's jibes.

After desperately trying to find his juvenile genetalia (perhaps he should have put his hand on the one sticking out of his forehead?), he then proffered Mark the opportunity to engage in one of Jeff 'Dogger' Lloyd's favourite pastimes which Stimo politely declined. No complaints from any of the civilised members of Micks team, only resigned despair at yet another petulant red card. It could have been their other swaggeringly childish striker, the one whose mullet looked like he'd been repeatedly straffed by the low-flying Canada geese, but he just attached his bottom lip firmly to his chin having not got much reaction from Kelso all match. Perhaps he was wary that Will might actually BE the boyfriend that Duncan had so eloquently described 'fisting' in the away match, much to his chagrain or, more likely, Kelso just didn't have the foggiest about what the hell he was on about!

Perry had a late chance but flashed wide although, by this time, the hard work was done and the lactic acid didn't need any more encouragement. Sorry for the epic but this WAS one hell of a match. Regardless of some queriable (or just queer) decisions from Donovan, appreciation is due for not only sacrificing the chance to exercise his inimitable range of choice comments but for officiating commandingly in such difficult circumstances. Cheers James... and well done to Mozzer for persisting when in obvious discomfort, managing to snuff out what did get past the defence and maintain command of the six-yard box from corners and throws.

Almost forgot; er, didn't somebody score a few goals on Saturday? You'd have thought that with Aaron four goals ahead of anybody with only three games to go, he'd have had the 3s Golden Boot wrapped up. Think again...

A Five Star perfomance from Hollo. It's common knowledge in the music industry that one of the fleetingly successful 80s electro-pop group had a sex change. All that Eastern European lineage from Ian is utter bollocks... his real name is Doris Pearson, born 8 June 1966 in Romford, Essex. With song titles like: All Fall Down, The Slightest Touch, Love Take Over (the bar), Another Weekend, Between The Lines, I Give You Give (but not to Aaron) and Can't Wait Another Minute (to get off the pitch), we should have twigged much earlier!

GOAL 1: Dave launches yet another monster throw into the box which is headed up in the air and, unlike previous bobbling, bouncing prods and swipes that didn't come off, Hollo absolutely smashed the ball into the onion bag.

GOAL 2: Aaron hassles their centre-back (yet again) forcing him into squaring it across the box - straight to Ian who neatly tucks it past their keeper.

GOAL 3: Aaron wins the ball and releases Dunc who takes it to the left byline. Contentious Decision Alert: With Micks defence doing a Mexican wave for offside and James restoring offside symmetry, Dunc pulls the ball back to Hollo who connects consummately to ripple the net again.

GOAL 4: Bowman intercepts and controls a Micks clearance and delivers a 40 yard slide-rule pass to dissect their backline. Contentious Decision Alert: Slightly surprised to receive the ball whilst ambling back after their goal-kick, Ian uses the advantage of the being possibly(?) offside to overcome his patent lack of pace. With Micks defence hanging the invisible washing out again, Hollo takes it on and bangs the ball into the top corner. Results in Micks usually accomplished and restrained captain going bonkers at James to absolutely no effect whatsoever. Good on you Donovan!

GOAL 5: Luke wins a free-kick on the right edge of the area and, after an exchange with Perry, whips the ball low into the mixer. Ian's been practicing with his Delia Smith Moulinex Blender and pur�es the ball low past the keeper.

Excellent stuff Hollo and not a mis-hit in sight. The opportunity to fill his boots was ostensibly created by Aaron's tireless, selfless work and pressure in tandem with Ian, often resulting in Aaron being surrounded by two or three defenders. Hollo capitalised on the freedom and space opened up by Aaron's Rooney-esque display and he certainly deserved a few goals himself. Did Ian buy him a drink later? ...hmmmmmmmm, I wonder!

Mark Stimpson must be applauded for not losing his rag or concentration in the face of a double-barrelled verbal assault from Micks two biggest wankers in attack. Never mind getting riled by it - Mark turned it back on them by going for the 'don't panic' mentality and asking for Permission to Sing Sir. His rendition throughout the match of the Dunnmeister's scorching hit single almost brought tears to everyone's eyes.

Great performance from the whole squad, minus the first 15 of mine(!), producing a result that takes us joint second. Even better perormance from Hollo AFTER the match that made his goal-scoring exploits pale into insignificance: 2 Pernods, 1 Baileys, 1 Southern Comfort + a Kelso 'special' - all triples or, maybe, quintuples - who knows; who cares; not Ian!

Dunc

PS: More evidence of the true identity of Ian � compare his hairstyle in the picture above (taken at some point on Saturday evening) with members of the aforementioned band... ?