Sporting Apostrophes

“Left to right, back to front: Farnsworth, Wessely, Turner, Hawkins, Hinceman, Stickland, Kimberley, Bonell, Lissimore”

Sunday’s thrill-a-minute encounter with U.B.O.C., Sporting Apostrophes’ final match of season III, ended in an incredible 5-4 victory for the Super A’s.

“Outstanding!” exclaimed chairman Ernest Borgnine, his penis weeping tears of joy at the final whistle. “We’ve had a dismal run of results lately, but with It’s Back and El Paso promoted we’re brim-full of optimism as next season approaches.”

The Super A’s fielded a star-studded line-up for this footballing jamboree; a just reward for the innumerable loyal fans who’ve lent their support through thick and thin this season. Fans’ favourites Turner and Bonell made a welcome return to the starting line-up, accompanied by Lissimore, returning from his mid-season break in the glamorous West Midlands. Stickland, his long-term injury problems a distant memory, assumed defensive duties, with Hawkins close behind him, prone, willing and sheathed. Wessley, making his 12th appearance of the season, assumed “in-the-hole” duties behind goalmouth “terrorist” Farnsworth, eager to extend his incredible goal scoring run. Never one to rest upon his laurels, 6-time man-of-the-match Hinceman completed the formation, his abundance of inches the envy of the league.

Right from the kick-off, Sporting Apostrophes, desperate to salvage the merest faecal crumb of pride from their topsy-turvy season, deployed their most fearsome tippy-tappy football to great effect.

“We might just win this!” shouted one over-excited fan, his elbows throbbing with anticipation.

“Damnation!” the crowd roared, as the Super A’s momentum was broken asunder by a cannon of a shot past Hawkins, his sheathes burning brightly, such was the ball’s velocity. Two more onion violations followed, against the run of play, leaving the voluminous crowd to curse their beloved team’s chances as the yellows trudged off at half time.

Rarely demoralised, tactically astute and with an abundance of talent warming the substitutes bench, Sporting Apostrophes took the game to their opponents in the second half. Bonell punished them first, a tidy tap-in from the edge of the box. A brace for “terrorist” Farnsworth, a goal-wanger from Wessley and a curious self-violation from U.B.O.C capped a magnificent performance, the Super A’s deserved 5-4 winners.

Sporting Apostrophes’ third season has been a roller coaster ride of emotional highs and lows, resulting in a record-breaking league table finish, but without the glory of promotion which is theirs by divine right. A terrible injustice!

Score: 5-4

Squad: Bonell, Farnsworth, Hawkins, Hinceman, Lissimore, Stickland, Turner, Wessely.
Goals: Bonell (1), Farnsworth (2), Wessely (1) plus one own goal.

“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).

Sunday’s match against promotion-chasing El Paso ended in yet another unfortunate defeat for the Super A’s.

“Four losses on the bounce!” chairman Ernest Borgnine complained, his dreams of silverware in tatters. “We need a minimum of two points from our two remaining matches to ensure we’re not lumbered with the dreaded wooden spoon.”

Sporting Apostrophes’ run of poor results looks likely continue next Sunday against Division II’s runaway champions It’s Back. A terrible injustice!

Score: 5-12
Squad: Bonell, Farnsworth, Hinceman, Kimberley, Stickland, Wessely.
Goals: Farnsworth (2), Hinceman (2), Kimberley (1).

Yesterday’s final “Super Sunday” installment against old rivals One Flew Into The Keepers Net ended in an unfortunate 8-2 defeat for the Super A’s.

“That’s three times we’ve played them, three times we’ve tasted their tartan punishment” wept chairman Ernest Borgnine, his anger at the lack of progress palpable. “Our first encounter at Old Street was close, the second somewhat less so, and today we’re bummed by an 8-ball to a deuce. Mark my words, heads will roll for this.”

For the umpteenth time this season, Sporting Apostrophes inferior fitness proved their undoing. The team played some joyous tippy-tappy loveball in the first half, to the delight of the capacity crowd, but with the substitutes bench a barren, lonely place, and energy levels flagging, things inevitably went awry after half time.
An inspired performance by sheathmaster Stickland and a brace for Wessely were the only highlights of a disappointing match, as the Super A’s, outclassed by their Irn-Bru-fuelled foes, succumbed to yet another sickening defeat. A terrible injustice!

Score: 2-8
Squad: Hawkins, Hinceman, Stickland, Wessely, White.
Goals: Wessely (2).

Last Sunday’s match against Team Wang ended in a surprising 7-1 reverse for the world’s favourite football team.

“Those pigs! They’ve improved immeasurably since our last meeting” complained chairman Ernest Borgnine, enraged at the terrible injustice of it all. “The uncoordinated buffoons that littered their squad were an embarrassment, players unworthy of the most special of special schools. Their new signings are a world apart: we underestimated them and were punished accordingly.”

With the exception of Stickland’s long-awaited return from injury, Apostrophes fans had little to cheer, the solitary onion bag violation arriving courtesy of a Wang deflection. A terrible injustice!

Score: 1-7
Squad: Hawkins, Hinceman, Stickland, Wessely, White.
Goals: own goal

“The team’s unique ‘never make eye contact’ tactic fails them once again. Left to right: Kimberley, O’Hara, Wessely, Lissimore”

For the second time this season, the grenade-like suppository of defeat was inserted firmly into Sporting Apostrophes’ anus by Real So So Bad, a full nine inches with a stereo response (commonly known as 9-2).

“How do I explain this result to potential sponsors?” asked chairman Ernest Borgnine at the regular post-match manscaping. “We were 1-0 up for the first ten minutes but lose 9-2!? The long, accusatory, penetrating finger of blame will be inserted into many a player, that’s for sure.”

A crisp winter’s day greeted the Apostrophes legends as they galloped forth from the tunnel in their famous yellow jerseys. The capacity crowd of genuine, real life fans roared their approval as the attacking pairing of “guarantee” Farnsworth and Kimberley appeared, followed by midfield maestros O’Hara and Wessely. A handsheathed Hawkins joined them, with sweeper Lissimore at the rear, the pair scheduled to change roles in the second half.

Sporting Apostrophes kicked off their landmark 30th match cautiously, the memory of their previous defeat at the hands of Real So So Bad still painful. Against the run of play, the Super A’s drew first blood, a trademark cannon from Farnsworth. Wounded like a bumraped badger, their opponents pressed forward, eager to make amends.

“Poo biscuits!” yelled Hawkins, as the ball violated his coveted onion bag to level the scores, a cruel deflection off Wessely. Real So So Bad added another, a terribly unjust tap-in following a heroic save from Hawkins.

“Violate them!” cried the partizan crowd, the aromatic aroma of victory having been replaced by the sickening scent of defeat in a matter of seconds. Farnsworth responded, unleashing a fearsome shot into the top corner, as the referee blew the whistle for half time, denying him the equaliser that was his by divine right. Ignoring the Apostrophes remonstrations, the referee left the field for his ritual defecation, unaffected by the chorus of boos from the crowd.

The second half was a miserable affair for the world’s favourite team. Real scored a flurry of goals in the first few minutes, as the Apostrophes, frustrated by their lack of opportunities, adopted a more physical approach with limited success. Kimberley and Wessely’s best efforts couldn’t beat Real’s in-form ‘keeper, and each attack prompted a vicious counter. An energetic display from O’Hara and commendable performances from Lissimore and Hawkins were simply not enough, the only consolation being a second goal for “guarantee” Farnsworth, his 16th of the season.

The shrill, unwelcome sound of the referee’s whistle brought the match to an end, a disappointing 9-2 loss for Sporting Apostrophes, who remain 5th in the division II table. A terrible injustice!

Score: 2-9
Squad: Farnsworth, O’Hara, Hawkins, Kimberley, Lissimore, Wessely.
Goals: Farnsworth (2).

“Farnsworth congratulates Kimberley on his stereo onion bag violations”

Sporting Apostrophes unlikely promotion campaign took a sizable step forward thanks to a well earned three points from yesterday’s match against Dynamo Kebab.

“I’m very pleased with the win, but we need to start scoring more goals if we’re to gain the promotion that is ours by divine right,” commented chairman Ernest Borgnine at the post match charity luge-off. “The next match against Real So So Bad is critical – we can’t afford to drop any more points.”

The Super A’s cascaded onto the astroturf like an athletic deck of cards, unleashed from their cellophane prison to rapturous applause. Farnsworth appeared first, eager to add to his incredible 10-in-5 goal tally, followed by Kimberley, who, having scored in all but one of his appearances this season, has finally hit top form. Lissimore joined them, the on-off sheathmaster, full-time yeast-hater determined to impress. Returning from their promotional tour of Berlin, Hawkins, Hinceman and McInerney completed the Apostrophes line-up, their alcohol injuries a distant-but-painful memory.

Within seconds of referee Morgan Tsvangirai’s whistle, Sporting Apostrophes were a goal down thanks to some haphazard defending by Hawkins, deployed as an outfield player for the first half.

“What can I say? My naked, sheathless hands longed to covet the ball, like a child covets the warm, generous testicles of a dinosaur. I was dazed and confused,” he protested, after the ball had ricocheted off his calf into the top corner of Lissimore’s goal.

With the roar of the non-fictional Grammar End behind them, Sporting Apostrophes soon equalised thanks to some delicious tippy-tappy-tip-tap-bang concluded by Kimberley. A sequence of onion bag violations from “guarantee” Farnsworth and McInerney brought tears to the eyes of Dynamo Kebab, as the Super A’s wreaked havok with their fluid, passing sexball. The onslaught continued until the authoritarian, angry lips of Tsvangirai attached themselves to his whistle, a 90-second blow denoting the end of the first half, leaving the team to retire to their changing boudoir with the score at 6-4.

Lissimore handed the sheathes to Hawkins as Dynamo Kebab kicked off the second half. Sporting Apostrophes were compelled to defend almost immediately as Dynamo pushed forward, eager to make up the 2-goal deficit. Hinceman’s energetic running, combined with some disciplined defending by Lissimore, thwarted the infidels’ attacks. Up top, Farnsworth, Kimberley and McInerney titillated the partizan crowd with their unique 3-in-a-bed attacking sandwich, their offensive buffet proving too much for Dynamo’s hapless sheath enthusiast.

The Super A’s prodded, probed and intruded their opponents, eager to reach an historic 10-goal milestone, but the unforgiving whistle of Tsvangirai sounded once more with the score at 9-6. A terrible injustice!

Score: 9-6
Squad: Farnsworth, Hawkins, Hinceman, Kimberley, Lissimore, McInerney.
Goals: Farnsworth (4), McInerney (3), Kimberley (2).

“Hinceman, McInerney and Hawkins fly the flag for Shaw Tyres in Berlin’s famous Olympic Stadium”

For the first time in their 28-game history, Sporting Apostrophes shared the points in Sunday’s ugly encounter with U.B.O.C.

“They played a dirty, aggressive game to combat our fluid, passing sexball,” raged chairman Ernest Borgnine at the post match press conference. “Mark my words with permanent pen and laminate them with the semen of a Somali pirate, we’ll beat these infidels when next we meet.”

Special plaudits must go out to O’Hara and Rock, whose Super A’s debuts impressed fans and pundits alike.

Sporting Apostrophes’ long suffering fictional sponsor Shaw Tyres refused to comment, furthering rumours of significant changes during the forthcoming transfer window. A terrible injustice!

Score: 4-4
Squad: Bonell, O’Hara, Kimberley, Lissimore, Rock, Wessely.
Goals: Bonell (1), Kimberley (2), Rock (1).

“Kimberley takes full advantage of the adverse weather conditions”

For the third time this season, Sporting Apostrophes suffered the bitter taste of defeat in Sunday’s rain-drenched encounter with promotion rivals It’s Back.

“Rain! It’s like waterpoison from the sky!” raged chariman Ernest Borgnine, his uncontrollable fury making him spontaneously urinate, bringing tears to the eyes of loyal fans. “We leave the desert of Old Street, only to find ourselves in a footballing Atlantis!”

The Super A’s “Galacticos” sauntered from the tunnel to be greeted by torrential rain and a sodden, unwilling pitch. Mother Nature herself, against the will of God and the Holy Spirit of Christopher Reeve, had conspired to nullify the Apstrophes’ fluid, passing football.

“Curse thee!” shouted Hawkins, extending his sheathed middle finger to the sky, a sight so magnificent the sun retreated further still, it’s fear evident to anyone equipped with the most rudimentary astronomy skills.

In defiance of the unjust weather conditions, the team proceeded to perform their patented warm-up routine, a complicated blend of pilates, golf and Esperanto, the team’s official tactical language. Lissimore and Hinceman, masters of the technique, concluded their session with an astonishing double somersault, proving they were ready in mind, body and bowel. Turner’s “Outback Moonwalk” soon followed, as Wessely’s “East End Shuffle” reached its apex. “guarantee” Farnworth’s northern soul forbids such outbursts, but his menacing golf swing brought gasps from the capacity crowd. Hawkins, floating above the pitch propelled by the power of Tina Turner’s “Simply The Best”, was transfixed, as though in a world of his own, his mind focused like a pornographer’s camera. At the rear, Kimberley’s attempt at a solitary push-up brought respectful applause from the die-hard Grammaticals.

The first half was a tense affair as the two teams probed, poked and stroked each other as an uncivilised Tarzan might molest Jane, or indeed Cheetah during public holidays. The stalemate was broken by a ferocious, unstoppable shot from Kimberley, bringing his goal tally to four this season. It’s Back responded with some clever counter attacks, taking full advantage of the Apostrophes’ reduced mobility in the adverse weather conditions. A penalty save from It’s Back’s hand sheath exponent denied Turner the opportunity to reduce the deficit, leaving the team two goals behind as they retired to their changing boudoir at half time.

Sporting Apostrophes’ will to win, usually absent by the break, was as strong as ever as the team kicked off the second half. Disciplined defending by Lissimore and Hinceman reduced It’s Back’s opportunities, as Turner and Wessely sought to supply Kimberley and Farnsworth with the ball stroking they crave. Their efforts were rewarded by “guarantee” Farnsworth’s right boot, with a well-taken follow-up from Turner.

“If the rain stopped we’d smell victory,” one fan pleaded, but Mother Nature, deaf to his cries, unleashed the full force of her might, to the dismay of the innumerable fans.

Forlorn, dejected, beaten and bruised, the team swam from the pitch at the final whistle, cursing their luck on such a wretched day.

Sporting Apostrophes remain fifth in the table, their erratic WLWLWL streak confusing fans and pundits alike. A terrible injustice!

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

“The team congratulate Farnsworth on his quintuple violation”

Yesterday’s “Super Sunday” fixture against table-toppers El Paso resulted in a magnificent 8-1 victory for the Apostrophes.

“We didn’t just beat them, we thrashed them!” wept chairman Ernest Borgnine, unable to contain his enthusiasm despite being naked from the waist down. “We took them to school, gave them detention and beat them savagely with a child-stick to near death!”

With “static” McInerney and Kimberley unavailable for selection, the Super A’s fielded a youthful side somewhat reminiscent of Arsenal’s pre-pubescent Carling Cup prodigies, only much, much better. With an average age of just 30, quick-witted fans christened them Borgnine’s Babes, to the delight of players and fans alike.

Hawkins and Turner made a welcome return to the team, the former following his hand sheath seminar in Berlin, the latter having rejected Fulham’s advances after last week’s controversial trial. The pair were joined by “guarantee” Farnsworth, his insatiable appetite for goals making him delirious, his mouth foaming with saliva like a rabid dog. Lissimore assumed sweeper duties, with Wessely providing pace in midfield. The in-form Hinceman completed the line-up, eager to build upon his consecutive man-of-the-match performances.

Whistle-happy referee Morgan Tsvangirai was welcomed by a chorus of boos as the first half commenced, his suspect decisions incurring the wrath of the Apostrophes faithful. Within a matter of seconds, he pursed his angry lips and blew, enraging the partizan crowd.

“You’re a rotter, how on earth does that contravene football rules?” one fan shouted, displaying a gentlemanly restraint so typical of fans seated in the non-fictional Grammar End.

The Super A’s, mindful of the referee’s innumerable inadequacies, exercised caution in their challenges, but still played their unique brand of “total football” in defiance of his dubious officiation skills. With passing so beautiful and humbling in its excellence an albino would turn midnight black, a flurry of onion bag violations was sure to follow, and so it came to pass. The incredible power of “guarantee” Farnsworth’s shot reaped dividends in spades, Wessely’s pinpoint accuracy it’s perfect foil.

Sporting Apostrophes’ virile attacking tsunami was supported by a granite defense, courtesy of Lissimore and Hinceman, with hand sheath exponent Hawkins’ saves bringing anal gasps of excitement from the capacity crowd. The first half concluded with the team four goals to the good, despite Turner’s brief sojourn to the dreaded sin bin.

Determined not to throw away a convincing lead, the Apostrophes delivered more delicious, oven-baked football in the second half. Wessely completed his second hat-trick of the season, whilst Farnsworth’s punishment tally ran to an incredible, record-breaking five goals. Turner, Lissimore and Hinceman were unfortunate to not add to the Apostrophes impressive haul, the woodwork denying them on a number of occasions.

El Paso responded with a solitary onion bag violation, but it was the merest faecal pebble of comfort for a team thoroughly humbled by a display of supreme footballing dominance.

Sporting Apostrophes lie 5th in the table thanks to inferior goal difference, despite their superior athleticism and Hollywood good looks. A terrible injustice!

Score: 8-1
Squad: Farnsworth, Hawkins, Hinceman, Lissimore, Turner, Wessely.
Goals: Farnsworth (5), Wessely (3).

“In an effort to increase his onion bag violations, Kimberley simulates ball trajectory and velocity on his advanced Amstrad CPC”

Sporting Apostrophes succumbed to a disappointing defeat against old rivals One Flew Into The Keepers Net in Sunday’s 15-goal thriller.

“Very bad game yesterday, the worst we have played in the Super A’s history,” said Kimberley, emailing via his Amstrad CPC, purchased with his first professional pay packet and still going strong. “We were actually 4-3 up at half time but threw it all away, I don’t think we strung 3 passes together all game.”

Chairman Ernest Borgnine was unavailable for comment, furthering rumours of unrest at the world famous club.

Sporting Apostrophes continue to incur the wrath of Shaw Tyre & Exhaust Co thanks to their mid-table mediocrity. A terrible injustice!

Score: 5-10
Squad: Bonell, Farnsworth, Hinceman, Kimberley, Lissimore, Wessely, White.
Goals: Bonell (1), Farnsworth (1), Kimberley (1), Wessely (1), White (1).

“Hinceman and Bonell on the wheelchair road to recovery”

Sporting Apostrophes took all three points in Sunday’s 13-goal thriller against Team Wang.

“Six points out of a possible nine! I’m beside myself with joy” cried chairman Ernest Borgnine at his post-match colostomy bag refresh. “OK, so we nearly threw it away – at times it looked as though we actually WANTED them to win – but it’s three points on the board nonetheless.”

Fans wept and ritually sacrificed orphans, such was there joy at seeing Hinceman, his heavily bandaged ankle testament to the greatness of this veteran of many an Apostrophes War. The cacophony of noise continued as Turner joined him, his impressive strike rate making him this season’s early favourite for the coveted Brown Plimsole.

Aural statisticians monitoring the precise volume of the crowd registered no reduction in volume upon the appearance of “guarantee” Farnsworth, whose presence on the score sheet is as reliable as clockwork. Fans maintained their enthusiasm as Hawkins somersaulted from the tunnel, with the sound of Tina Turner’s “Simply The Best” propelling him through the air as though weightless.

After what seemed like hours, the team’s elder statesmen Kimberley and McInerney trudged onto the hallowed astroturf, their combined age of 94 a great, evil “shame stain” upon the world’s most excellent and famous club.

Deploying their renowned diamond formation, the Super A’s started the first half at a lively tempo; somewhere between a canter and a gallop, what some might call a “sexual manjog”. Their ball stroking quickly drew first blood, to the delight of the innumerable, real-life fans. A second soon followed, a bizarre off-the-bar-on-the-bar-and-in goal from Hinceman, his ankle clearly having lost none of its Baltimore Fury. Team Wang replied thanks to defensive crossed wires, Sporting’s communication skills having let them down for the umpteenth time, before the referee blew for half time.

After such a promising performance in the first half, a predictable, inevitable loss of form was apparent from the outset of the second. Sporting Apostrophes onion compass wasn’t calibrated, and their passing, so arousing in the first period, seemed listless and misguided, like a zombie rapist on parole. Team Wang punished the Super A’s onion like an abusive step-brother, leaving fans fearful that like last week’s match, the game would be thrown away. Despite their misgivings, the team held on to their lead until the final whistle for a famous 7-6 victory.

Sporting Apostrophes inferior goal difference leaves them in fourth spot, having taken six points from a possible nine. A terrible injustice!

Score: 7-6
Squad: Farnsworth, Hawkins, Hinceman, Kimberley, McInerney, Turner.
Goals: Farnsworth (2), Hinceman (2), McInerney (1), Turner (2).