Sporting Apostrophes

“Farnsworth’s record-breaking 20-goal haul this season is congratulated by chairman Ernest Borgnine”

Sporting Apostrophes’ second encounter with It’s Back this season ended in yet another unfortunate defeat for the famous yellows.

“Our last win was at the beginning of December,” complained chairman Ernest Borgnine, dressed head-to-toe in lycra for the annual pro-celebrity LugeFest to raise eatingmonies for the morbidly obese. “If you study the teams we’ve fielded it’s clear to see that Turner makes the difference. The rest of the them are bloody useless! Mark my words with indelible marker on the forehead of a particularly pasty albino, there’ll be changes during the transfer window. Kaká; Ronaldo; Benzema; Ribery; Buffon: we’re talking to all the big names, and believe you me, they’re very, very interested.”

A crisp, clear winter’s day greeted the Super A’s as they emerged from the tunnel to rapturous applause. Handsheath enthusiast Hawkins, returning to the squad following the birth of his daughter, arrived first, pumping his fist skywards in tune to Tina Turner’s “Simply The Best” as it blasted from the stadium tannoy. The midfield pairing of “Big Ben” Hinceman and Wessely joined him, their fourth consecutive outing together. Stickland soon followed, the part-time sheath guardian eager to cover every blade of astroturf. At the rear, goal-machine Farnsworth and “punisher” Kimberley elevated the crowd into a bowel-evacuating frenzy of sexual pleasure, that could only be satiated by a generous dose of the Apostrophes’ “total football”.

The first half kicked off, and Sporting Apostrophes were a goal down within seconds thanks to a calamitous sequence of gaffes, ending in a terrible error of judgement by Hawkins, who deflected the ball into his own net with his sizable chin.

“Arsevinegar!” the fans screamed, clearly enraged.

It’s Back continued to push forward, the sweet smell of onion bag filling each of their dozen nostrils. The Apostrophes struggled to contain them, and more violations soon followed. A predictably ferocious brace from “guarantee” Farnsworth brought cheers, but the team were still left chasing the game as the referee blew the half time whistle with the score at 2-6.

The second half saw little improvement, to the dismay of fans. Substandard refereeing, combined with the Apostrophes incredible inability to run for longer than 20 minutes led to an embarrassing deluge of goals for It’s Back. The punishment continued relentlessly, as season ticket holders, weeping at the terrible injustice of it all, melted their plastic season tickets using portable Bunsen burners, and poured the molten plastic upon themselves by way of protest.

“What is this evil bumsickness?” they wept, as pools of hot, burning flesh began to weep onto the hallowed astroturf.

The final whistle blew, sparing the Apostrophes further shame having been punished with the full eighteen inches.

With one game remaining of their third season, Sporting Apostrophes remain a team in crisis, with promotion, sponsorship, tactical cohesiveness and fitness all distant, improbable dreams. A terrible injustice!

Score: 2-18

Squad: Farnsworth, Hawkins, Hinceman, Kimberley, Stickland, Wessely.
Goals: Farnsworth (2).