Sporting Apostrophes

“Hawkins’ sheathed displays have made him a transfer target”

Super Sunday proved to be less than super for the Super A’s, who supped at the soup of defeat for their supper, Green Park the maître d’.

“What were we supposed to do?” protested Ernest Borgnine, his nostrils flaring with rage. “They had hundreds of players – hundreds! With just four legends fit and available we were always going to struggle, and didn’t we just!”

The Super A’s, weary from their molestation at the hands of Team Wang, fielded the same line-up for Super Sunday, part deux.

“Witness the fitness!” chanted the fans, amazed at the spectacle of five grown men willing to participate in physical activity for more than an hour.

Hawkins, having made an awe-inspiring, winning cameo appearance for division I relegation candidates Lethal Bum, was singled out for additional praise by fans in the Grammar End:

“He’s taaaalllll….
an albino aaaape…
his hands are made…. of Sellotape
Haww..kiiinnnssss….
Haww..kiiinnnssss….”

Blessed as Diana and the Ghost of Christopher Reeve, a youthful Spike Lee was delirious with joy at the prospect of witnessing more Apostrophes magic at close-hand, as he blew his whistle to proceed with the ripening of the banana.

Sporting Apostrophes’ hopes of an improbable victory were soon dashed by Green Park, as their innumerable army of players ran riot, chasing the sphere, poking it, stabbing it like a Hackney schoolboy. The banana was a rich mustard colour by the time Sporting tasted onion, courtesy of the ageless McInerney, who scored his second brace of the day.

With the blackened banana weeping its innards onto the astroturf, Apostolov added a consolation violation, but the sphincter-tearing, grenade-like suppository of defeat was once again thrust into the Apostrophes, who suffered their seventh successive defeat.

With just two matches remaining in season IV, Sporting Apostrophes remain rooted to the foot of division II. A terrible injustice!

Score: 4-13
Squad: Apostolov, Hawkins, Hinceman, Kimberley, McInerney.
Goals: Apostolov (1), McInerney (2) + one one goal.

“Kimberley, McInerney and Hinceman deploy their famous goal celebration dubbed ‘touch no evil, smell some evil, pray for evil’. It’s origins can be traced back to the Godless ‘Onion Ages’.”

Like the primal scream of a motherless Aborigine, Sporting Apostrophes’ anguish pierced the hearts of despondent fans, as the team fell to their sixth successive defeat in Sunday’s encounter with Team Wang.

“We’re like a snowman in the desert – nothing but carrot and coal” opined chairman Ernest Borgnine, following yet another Super A’s mauling. “With a sponsor in liquidation and a threadbare squad divided by the colours blue and yellow, one can’t help but wonder whether we’ll make it to season V.”

A predictably slimline Sporting Apostrophes line-up took to the field, the smell of substitutes as distant and intangible as a spider’s fart. McInerney returned for his third consecutive appearance, along with Hinceman, making his landmark 25th appearance for the world famous club. The long-suffering Hawkins and Kimberley soon followed, joined by loan signing Apostolov, eager to demonstrate his Bulgarian flair to the capacity crowd.

New referee Spike Lee was tasked with officiating a “Super A’s Classico” on his debut: an incredible privilege, an unforgettable experience that will surely last a lifetime. His nerves were evident by his preoccupation with untied laces, and his curious assertion that one must blow for head height lower than a midget’s pubes, but these minor details could not detract from his youthful, whistle-blowing exuberance.

The first slice was removed from the oven prematurely, as the Super A’s found themselves choking on enemy onion after just five minutes.

“Please, we implore you, take the game to them!” cried the impatient fans.

Sporting Apostrophes’ unfamiliar ingredients made for an uncomfortable ensemble, and, with no condiments, relish was in short supply, leaving the team trailing by four goals at half time.

The second slice was more mature, more flavoursome, but still, the fans’ appetite for onion was not satiated adequately. A tidy brace from McInerney and a few well executed fouls from Hinceman were the only cause for muted celebration, progressing to covert onanism, as referee Spike Lee brought the game to its inevitable conclusion with the Apostrophes trailing 8-2.

The Super A’s languish at the bottom of division II, their promotion campaign in ruins. A terrible injustice!

Score: 2-8
Squad: Apostolov, Hawkins, Hinceman, Kimberley, McInerney.
Goals: McInerney (2).

“Stickland and Hinceman run to congratulate Kimberley on his delicious onion bag violation”

The Jocks of One Flew Into The Keepers Net unleashed their “Tartan Tsunami” upon the Super A’s for the fifth time in Sunday’s exciting division II encounter, as the team ran out to a somewhat flattering 8-3 victory.

“Barring a miracle they’re guaranteed promotion now,” chairman Ernest Borgnine conceded, a copy of the league table clenched firmly between his taut buttocks. “Full credit to them, they’re unbeaten, having punished all comers with the explosive force of their haggis facial.”

Sporting Apostrophes boasted a talent-packed, half dozen line-up: truly a sight for the stinging, piss-sore eyes of the innumerable fans present, having been subjected to a threadbare slice of the famous Super A’s quiche far too often in recent weeks.

Fans roared their approval as “terrorist” Farnsworth appeared from the players’ tunnel, his landmark fiftieth goal fast approaching. McInerney followed, his declining strike rate evidence of the cruel inevitability of Old Father Time. Stickland joined them, fully recovered from the humiliating 18-2 rape at the hands of El Paso, along with Kimberley, his debilitating facial alopecia and mystery hand growths a source of concern on the terraces. The “Beast from Baltimore”, back from his mid-season skiing break, was next to grace the astroturf, along with hand sheath fetishist Hawkins, making his record-breaking 35th appearance for the Super A’s.

Following a brief team talk on the virtues of heterosexuality by referee John Candy, Sporting kicked off the match, onion compass calibrated, the scent filling each and every one of their dozen nostrils.

“Show them no mercy!” the crowd screamed, in defiance of the Super A’s defensive generosity that would make the corpse of Mother Theresa blush like an atomic Belisha beacon.

Sporting Apostrophes stroked the ball across the astroturf with much beauty and tippy-tappy goodness, despite the absence of midfield maestros Turner and Wessely. Against the run of play, and the will of God, One Flew Into The Keepers Net poked the sphere past Hawkins, drawing first blood, but the Apostrophes replied with a prime fillet from “terrorist” Farnsworth. Like Krankies possessed, the Jocks responded swiftly to restore their lead, but Kimberley levelled the scores with a poacher’s goal, his third of the season.

“There’s only one Kim-ber-leeee…. four-tune-at-lee,” sang the crowd, hoping for an unexpected victory against the table-toppers.

Fans hopes were dashed by a tidy brace from the Scots, before the referee blew long, lovingly and hard on his cherished whistle to bring down the curtain on the first act.

Part II delivered just as much drama and passion as its well received predecessor. Muscular defending by Hinceman and Stickland, combined with some spectacular feats of walking and shouting by “static” McInerney, promised to reap rewards for the world’s favourite football team. A Farnsworth cannon brought hope of an improbable comeback, but the Jocks, on gas mark five, punished the Super A’s with the intoxicating fumes of the previous night’s indulgence.

“Peeeeeeeeep!” went the referee’s whistle, leaving the Apostrophes to reflect upon chances missed and The Curse Of The Blue Shirts in the luxurious surroundings of their unique Male Grooming and Fitness Complex.

With the end of the season fast approaching, Sporting Apostrophes are yet again languishing in seventh place, a mere point above old rivals Team Wang. A terrible injustice!

Score: 3-8
Squad: Farnsworth, Hawkins, Hinceman, Kimberley, McInerney, Stickland.
Goals: Farnsworth (2), Kimberley (1).

“McInerney sports a black armband in remembrance of Jade Goody, whose incredible life was worth more than Jesus, Mother Theresa, Christopher Reeve and Jan Molby combined.”

The bittersweet smell of sautéed onions was carried far, far away by the wind following Sporting Apostrophes’ sixth loss of the season at the hands of Dynamo Kebab. Like a photocopier bereft of toner, the Super A’s paper tray was yet again a barren, lonely place, the subject of much ridicule and shame.

“We played some good football, but, light on players yet again, we struggled to deploy our lethal inverse diamond W-M-M-W 2-1-1 wing-back, man-in-the-hole formation” complained chairman Ernest Borgnine, his patience, like the seat of his trousers, wearing very, very thin. “Some blame the blue shirt, but it goes deeper than that. As the old saying goes, ‘He who tires of onion, tires of life’.”

With McInerney stuck in traffic, Sporting Apostrophes kicked off the first half with an abbreviated line-up, a slender, Karen Carpenter formation consisting of Bonell, Farnsworth, Hawkins and Turner. Dynamo Kebab made the most of their numerical advantage, violating the Super A’s onion bag like a Rotherhithe cab driver. Bonell responded almost immediately, before McInerney took to the field with the scores level.

“Punish them!” screamed the fans, traumatised by the Apostrophes disappointing league position.

With the fans encouragement ringing in their ears, Sporting Apostrophes took their opponents on the footballing equivalent of a rendition flight, using every method of punishment available in their considerable arsenal. Unfortunately, this wasn’t enough, leaving the teams to end the first half with Dynamo having a lead no larger than Ronnie Corbett’s smaller brother.

Referee John Candy commenced the second half with the Super A’s in determined mood, resulting in an immediate violation and the succulent aroma of onion, addictive like heroin, moreish as a rich tea biscuit. The capacity crowd expected, nay, demanded the victory which seemed inevitable, but their screams were silenced by a savage foul on Turner.

“Poobiscuits and venom!” sighed the crowd, knowing full well that the substitutes bench was as lonely as Wordsworth’s cloud.

Down to four men for the umpteenth time, Sporting Apostrophes fought bravely, but it wasn’t enough, as Dynamo Kebab ran out 6-4 winners, their first victory against the world’s favourite team following three previous defeats.

A mere point from the bottom of the table and suffering a threadbare squad, Sporting Apostrophes prospects for the second half of season IV remain bleak. A terrible injustice!

Score: 4-6
Squad: Bonell, Farnsworth, Hawkins, McInerney, Turner.
Goals: Bonell (2), Farnsworth (1), Turner (1).

A depleted Super A’s line-up suffered a heavy defeat at the hands of promotion candidates El Paso in Sunday’s division II encounter.

“Credit to the boys for trying, but with the numerical disadvantage it was always going to be brutal,” commented chairman Ernest Borgnine at the post-match radio interview. “One can’t help but wonder whether this new kit is cursed – we’ve yet to win since its debut four matches ago.”

Sporting Apostrophes’ two goals came courtesy of Cameo, on loan from table-toppers One Flew Into The Keepers Net.

After two dreadful results, where now for the world famous Super A’s?. The team’s goal difference has plummeted from zero to minus twenty eight in just two matches. A terrible injustice!

Score: 2-18
Squad: Bonell, Cameo, Lissimore, Stickland, Turner.
Goals: Cameo (2).

“Turner’s limbs are even darker than the team’s prospects this season”

A hailstorm of low denomination coins and discarded season tickets rained down upon the Apostrophes legends following Sunday’s debacle against U.B.O.C.

“Oh, good God, can we get any worse?” wondered chairman Ernest Borgnine. “It was a comedy of errors. We’re the laughing stock of this division, but I have to be positive. Onwards and upwards, like a penis-pink toboggan travelling in reverse, that’s what I say.”

The driving rain was enough to darken the mood of the hardiest of homosapiens, but the Super A’s, being the creamiest, most handsome examples of their species, were unfazed by Mother Nature’s incontinence.

Hawkins, carrying a dangerous “lesbian shoulder” injury, took to the field, with the diminutive Kimberley on his shoulders. Next came Hinceman, a newly shorn McInerney just visible in his giant hands.

“What is this madness?” wondered the fans.

“I get it, I get it!” cried one particularly astute fan, who proceeded to explain his theory to his peers. “They’re taking to the field in order of appearances, but as some players are tied in this respect, they’re morally obliged to grace the astroturf simultaneously!”

The quartet were immediately followed by Turner, his 22 appearances just shy of Hinceman and McInerney’s tally of 23. Next came Wessely, just one match behind, with Lissimore having amassed a very respectable 17 since his debut last July.

From start to finish, the match was a sphincter-wrenching carousel of chopped onion, to the dismay of the capacity crowd. Sporting Apostrophes appeared listless; confused; like a man without the tear-jerking power of onion in his soul. U.B.O.C. took full advantage, as they raped and pillaged, feasting on the vulnerability of the Apostrophes.

Referee John Candy ended the onslaught with his gristle whistle, leaving the Apostrophes to return to their luxurious changing facilities, dejected and beaten, dazed and confused.

“15 goals!” sighed one tearful fan upon leaving the stadium. “That’s even more vicious than the recipe dealt to us by the chocolate tsunami off Oceans 11, and I’ll be buggered if U.B.O.C. are anywhere near that level.”

Sporting Apostrophes reach the halfway point of season IV with little to celebrate: a poor points haul, negative goal difference and a sponsor in liquidation. A terrible injustice!

Score: 3-15
Squad: Hawkins, Hinceman, Kimberley, Lissimore, McInerney, Turner, Wessely.
Goals: Hawkins (1), McInerney (1) plus one own goal by U.B.O.C.

“Hawkins’ poor performance leaves fans questioning his sanity”

The Super A’s quaffed at the filthy trough of defeat once again, succumbing to a 8-5 defeat at the hands of Real So So Bad.

“Unbelievable!” chairman Ernest Borgnine complained, frustrated at the team’s lack of progress. “Real So So Bad are the most feminine, delicate, she-weakling team of man-boys in the league, and we let them beat us again! What’s that all about, eh?” he questioned, circling the assembled press, his dukes aloft, primed for combat, goading, willing them to attack, longing for the blood of an innocent to cleanse the innumerable sins from his black soul.

Wearing their flattering blue jerseys for only the second team, Sporting Apostrophes took to the field with a predictably handsome line-up consisting of Hawkins, “terrorist” Farnsworth, Hinceman, Kimberley, Stickland, making his first appearance of the season, and Turner, back from promotional duties in the far east (Stratford).

John Candy, blessed with the privilege of officiating the Apostrophes for the second week in a row, enjoyed a delicious spectacle of home cooked football from the first whistle. A flurry of delicate, souffle passing was digested with all the vim and vigour it warranted, culminating in a Michelin Starred onion bag violation from Hinceman. The Super A’s were soon three goals to the good, leaving a flummoxed Real So So Bad chasing thin air, like a watery, French onion soup made in a special school home economics class.

Part deux was a gastronomic catastrophy of epic proportions, a sickening concoction from the worst third world kitchen. Hawkins’ Yorkshire pudding remained lank, sunken, pathetic; an unseemly spectacle for a sheathmaster general. Too many cooks made light work of the rolling moss, leaving fans to question the team’s commitment, tactics, and even more worryingly, hair styles in some cases.

Sporting Apostrophes ability to defend a lead is still notable by its absence. A terrible injustice!

Score: 5-8
Squad: Farnsworth, Hawkins, Hinceman, Kimberley, Stickland, Turner.
Goals: Farnsworth (1), Hinceman (2), Kimberley (1), Turner (1).

“Hinceman’s tackling is as effective as it is unorthodox”

It was all square for the Apostrophes in Sunday’s full-bloodied encounter with old rivals Green Park.

“We should have taken all three points” complained chairman Ernest Borgnine, his eagerness to please Sadlier-Ward evident by the erection protruding from his trousers. “It’s imperative that we beat last season’s tally of ten points in the first half of the season – we’ll need a minimum of four points from the next two games to do so.”

Hawkins and Kimberley, sporting the Super A’s brand new jersey, took to the field to much hand-clappy applause for the team’s historic 40th match. Midfield “wizard” Wessely waltzed behind them, as Lissimore appeared, willing and unsheathed. Hinceman, the “Beast from Baltimore” soon followed, accompanied by Farnsworth, his insatiable appetite for onion causing him to foam at the mouth like a rabies-ridden chihuahua.

“Curse the record-breaking speed of your violation!” cried supporters in unison, as Sporting Apostrophes went a goal down within the first ten seconds.

Like a wounded animal, Sporting Apostrophes fought back, baring tooth and claw. A pair of sumptuous onion bag violations were delivered by the ever-reliable “terrorist” Farnsworth and Wessley, giving the Super A’s the deserved lead that God and Mother Nature intended. The fans cried for more, as the team tried to prise more opportunities from their thuggish opponents.

“Punish them!” roared the fans, but the smell of onion was a distant, imprecise Xerox of the bonafide goalmouth aroma.

Referee John Candy pursed his curiously feminine lips and blew hard on his whistle to mark the end of Part Un, with the world famous Apostrophes defending a 2-1 lead.

The second half was an aggressive, angry affair – a departure from the Apostrophes’ usual sexball so beloved of supporters. Despite leading on a number of occasions, the Super A’s found themselves 5-4 down, thanks to a combination of waning stamina and incredibly poor judgment.

“Cease the injustice!” Farnsworth shouted, as he fired the ball into Green Park’s net, completing his fourth hat-trick of the season and sparing the team’s blushes.

With the scores level at 5-5, John Candy blew hard on his whistle once more, leaving the Super A’s to reflect upon wasted chances and the ghost of Christopher Reeve. A terrible injustice!

Score: 5-5
Squad: Farnsworth, Hawkins, Hinceman, Kimberley, Lissimore, Wessely.
Goals: Farnsworth (3), Wessely (2).

“Farnsworth completes his astonishing halfdozerlation (A.K.A. double hat trick) in style”

Sunday’s thrilling match against Team Wang ended in a resounding victory for the Super A’s.

“A fantastic win – the perfect way to celebrate our new sponsorship deal!” chairman Ernest Borgnine enthused, despite ongoing rumours that Sadlier-Ward have entered administration. “Farnsworth’s incredible, record-breaking 6-goal haul was the Smarties, hundreds and thousands, egg, bacon, fillet steak, whipped cream and icing on the surprisingly savoury cake.”

Sporting Apostrophes’ latest emphatic victory leaves them entrenched in fourth spot, denying them the promotion spot that is theirs by divine right. A terrible injustice!

Score: 9-3
Squad: Farnsworth, Hinceman, Kimberley, Lissimore, McInerney, Turner, Wessely.
Goals: Farnsworth (6), McInerney (1) + own goals (2).

“McInerney mumbles and Wessely tumbles in Sunday’s physical encounter”

Sunday’s full-blooded encounter with old rivals One Flew Into The Keepers Net resulted in a 8-4 reverse for the world’s most handsome football team.

Chairman Ernest Borgnine made his feelings clear at the post match press conference.

“We’ve played them four times and gifted them twelve points,” he complained, his dissatisfaction made clear by the erection protruding from his trousers. “How can a team of heroin-addled, Irn Bru-loving Jocks punish us so savagely? Heads will roll for this.”

Sporting Apostrophes fielded a predictably strong line-up, despite the absence of “terrorist” Farnsworth and “leisure time” Turner. Hawkins resumed his love affair with the sheathes, with Lissimore taking a firm grasp on the sweeper’s broom of doom. Old boy Bonell returned to the field alongside Hinceman and Wessley, creating a midfield tricycle of footballing genius. Kimberley and McInerney led from the front, a devastating combination of age and senility.

“Bum Maltesers!” exclaimed the fans in unison, as One Flew Into The Keepers Net drew first blood almost immediately.

“Ringpiece Revels!” they wept, as another onion bag violation arrived seconds later.

“Creme Eggs authored by the sphincter of a grown man!” they sobbed in astonishment, as within 90 seconds of the kick-off their beloved Super A’s were three goals down.

Angry, aroused, determined and handsome, Sporting Apostrophes responded, eager to show the sinister foreigners their superior footballing recipes. Two fine dumplings were promptly served courtesy of Wessley, as the team began to assert themselves upon the match. The jocks delivered another cruel blow, as the referee, hungry as an orphan gymnast, blew hard on his whistle, signifying the end of the first half.

Part deux – Blood and Thunder – and how! Sporting Apostrophes ran amok, chasing the pigs bladder with venom. “steamroller” Hinceman caused chaos, creating room for Wessely to supply wonderballs up top. The tired, old phrase beloved of many a television pundit – “chances make violations” – was rarely so apt. McInerney pounced, a typical poacher’s goal. Hinceman charged, rhino-like, forcing the ball into the onion bag with nothing but will power and the American Way.

A mere goal behind at one point, the smell of stalemate was almost as overpowering as eau de victoire. A string of valiant saves by Hawkins kept the team in the match, and, with Lissimore pinging the sphere like a hypnotised, tischtennis Chinaman via Kimberlely, the famous yellows delivered aplenty. However, Old Lady Tiredness waltzed with Keith Fatigue once more, as the accelerator of success was hampered by the handbrake of arse biscuits.

“Damnation!” cursed the fans, as once more, Sporting Apostrophes failed to capitalise upon the myriad chances served to them, as the game concluded with yet another stinking defeat.

With just three points from nine, the Super A’s quest for promotion takes another body blow, with a cheeky uppercut for good measure. A terrible injustice!

Score: 4-8
Squad: Bonell, Hawkins, Hinceman, Kimberley, Lissimore, McInerney, Wessely.
Goals: Hinceman (1), McInerney (1), Wessely (2).

“Kimberley turns up the thermostat with his dynamic play”

Arctic weather conditions could do little to subdue the potent footballing tsunami unleashed by the Super A’s last Sunday, as they romped home to an impressive 6-2 victory against Dynamo Kebab.

“Beautiful passing AND firm stabbing – I’m ecstatic!” enthused Ernest Borgnine, delighted to see the team chalk up their first three points of the season. “We could have been more direct at times: I was hoping for a few more violations, but the team played as a unit, reminiscent of the magnificent Star Fleet.”

Not unlike condensed milk, Sporting Apostrophes once again concentrated an incredible volume of talent into a slimline, threadbare line-up, undiluted by the presence of substitutes. Attacking was clearly the plat du jour; a three-pronged, Dremel-like goal weapon consisting of Farnsworth, Kimberley and McInerney was deployed up top, Sporting’s all-time top onion bag violators. With Wessely supporting from the middle and Hawkins fully sheathed, Apostrophes fans hoped for much deliciousness. Haemorraging talent from every orifice, the team were never likely to leave the die-hard Grammaticals wanting.

Unfazed by the delayed kick-off, Sporting Apostrophes took the game to their opponents from the first whistle. Anal cheers echoed around the terraces as the Super A’s drew first blood, a richly deserved Maserati from Farnsworth. An Aston Martin from McInerney, coupled with a Kimberley Kia ensured the team retired at half time with a comfortable three goal cushion.

Hawkins’ boyhood dream of keeping a clean sheet, whether at home or on the field, was thwarted by a fortunate Dynamo Kebab goal, to the the dismay of fans. Another followed, but Sporting Apostrophes’ surprisingly up-tempo work-rate reaped dividends. Some pleasing tippy-tappy football orchestrated by Wessley delivered three more goals, with “guarantee” Farnsworth completing his hat-trick, and another vicious stab from “static” McInerney, back to his best following a lengthy absence.

Sporting Apostrophes climb to fourth place in the division II league table. A terrible injustice!

Score: 6-2
Squad: Farnsworth, Hawkins, Kimberley, McInerney, Wessely.
Goals: Farnsworth (3), McInerney (2), Kimberley (1).

“Borgnine surveys the damage to Wessley’s car following the smash that resulted in him missing the first half of Sunday’s match”

The heavens wept gentle tears for the Apostrophes throughout Sunday’s up-tempo encounter with El Paso, as the famous yellows succumbed to yet another unfortunate defeat.

“Yet again, Lady Luck was out to lunch when we needed her most” complained Ernest Borgnine, unable to contain his disappointment at the final whistle. “We played with four men for the first half, so I must commend the boys for keeping it respectable, but our quest for mid-table mediocrity has taken a vicious stab in the bum when we were prone and vulnerable.”

An unforeseeable combination of age-related injuries (McInerney) and transport calamities (Wessely) resulted in threadbare Super A’s line-up sashaying onto the sacred astroturf. Hawkins, looking resplendent in his new sheathes, continued his one-man protest at the team’s lack of sponsorship by wearing an unofficial jersey, incurring the wrath of Shaw Tyres. Eager to better his record-breaking haul last season, “goalmouth terrorist” Farnsworth soon followed, with Hinceman and Kimberley in tow, the latter visibly traumatised by the obvious lack of manpower.

The JumboTron’s digital pensive-o-meter registered maximum for the first time in the team’s history, as the Apostrophes dinked the ball from man to man, unsure of how best to overcome their numerical disadvantage. The scores remained zero apiece for several minutes, before El Paso took advantage of a rebound from Hawkins’ save to draw first blood. Another followed, before Farnsworth replied with a trademark rocket into the bottom corner. El Paso increased their advantage to three with an impressive volley, as the referee brought the first half to a close with the yellows facing an uphill struggle.

Kimberley, enraged, exhausted, dazed and confused, lifted his arms aloft and cursed the Lord, such was his uncontainable fury at the very terrible injustice.

“I spit phlegm at thee!” he shouted, as horrified fans gasped in the designated Mormon fan section.

The players’ fictional prayers were answered as Wessely appeared on the touchline, a mere footwear change away from making his season IV debut.

“Salvation!” shouted the players, relieved to be at full strength, albeit sans substitutes.

To the amazement of fans and the multi-billion television audience, Sporting Apostrophes maintained their composure in the second half. Farnsworth and Hinceman added more richly deserved onion bag violations, with a mere three responses from their substitute-rich opponents.

“With a few bodies on the bench we’d have taken them,” protested Hinceman, as the players returned to the opulent luxury of their changing complex having lost 6-3. “Bonell; Lissimore; McInerney; Stickland; Turner: where were they in our hour of need?”

Sporting Apostrophes welcome season IV with a disappointing defeat: hardly the ideal way to attract valuable sponsorship Euros. A terrible injustice!

Score: 3-6
Squad: Farnsworth, Hawkins, Hinceman, Kimberley, Wessely.
Goals: Farnsworth (2), Hinceman (1).