The first game of the new season - time to get SERIOUS. Once more we found ourselves squaring up to arch enemies, The Unit – a team still raw from the last minute drama of last week. However, this week The Unit were well and truly conquered; vanquished like an elk in hunting season; split like wet walnuts; devoured like cut-price Cadbury’s Halloween chocolate caramel dead heads. Playing our best football to date, and brushing aside the setback of falling a goal behind inside a minute, we passed the ball like Ipswich circa 2000/2001 (don’t pretend you don’t remember), and steadily pulled out a three goal lead, including two fine solo runs by resident time-bomb Mike Francis. Despite the odd horrific pass (I was guilty of playing a pass of such poor quality that proverbial grannies across the land would have been able to waddle through and belt one in) we reached half time 8-5 to the good.
8-5! Was that not, I hear you cry, the self same score that triggered the FUNNY FIVE MINUTES OF DOOM that blighted last week’s match? Correct, dear reader, correct. However, this time we minimised the damage and kept scoring great, great goals. If anything it was more of FUNNY FOUR MINUTES OF MARGINAL DANGER, as despite our defensive frailty inciting a severe case of ‘the rage’, Francis repeatedly got on the end of flowing passing moves involving Farrar-Smith, Crackstar, and ever-present Ecuadorian International, Stewart Williams. The icing on this cake of victory came as Crackstar allegedly (it looked suspiciously like an own goal) poked home from close range. And that was it, Manifest march on, perving like sex pests on the prospect of promotion by the end of the season.