Season 40 Game 667 Musings on football and going down on the PM

Report filed by cub reporter Marky Mark (on probation)

Editor's note: the subtext of this report is that a football team of great renown played a game of football and fought like wildcats right up to to the kickoff.


A Sparrow Falls to Earth 

Ask any of the other discarded toy-boys who turned up again, deeply confused, at Nairnville Park at

12.30 on Saturday, bellies distended by high-living and tapeworms.

Full of fire,Youtube videos of CR7 and, in Tiberius’ case, curdling semen... (Gay

rumours do indeed persist).

Such a splendid summer!

Some gilded memories I share with you, my Brothers in Alms:

Sipping oh-so-lightly chilled Valpolicella under the fig trees with my bearded love doll Mingatone,

while the wind whispers of forbidden love...



Swapping electric banter with Two-Halves and Alison at JB’s sold-out poetry headliner at the

Fringe Bar. ( Was that a freak indoor snow flurry, or just flocks of lightly soiled bloomers going

south for the winner? Are these things ultimately knowable? Let.s hope not.)...

Planting a forest of stinky logs in the trusty ancient 501’s at 3 a,m after the 28th Estrella beer...

Stella getting published... again...

A new PM I’d happily go down on and on and on...



Slivers of bliss to be shattered in a trice.

“Is there something crouching in our Bomber DNA that sniggers at success, sips deeply of the

well-waxed crotch of The Bitch Goddess, and, having tasted heaven, falters ?”

“Calm down Hansie,” I said.

 “night school is a fey mistress. And, how is your injured injury, old fool?”

The Op Shop truck of life  drops last season’s fashions at the sideline.

War was been declared.

NW Wanderers the foe du jour.

To cut a long story short.

They spanked us.


Played as a team of aging fantasists should.

We were great for first 20. Pass and pass again.

Handsie and Marky sharing a cigarillo.

Tibs and Jakaal probing the gusset of hairy defence.

Michael Michael accepting the sun’s praise on his chiselled profile.

Ming fossicking in his pockets for another 4 inches of penis.

Danno tackling sandflies and theological connundra’

Same old. Same old.



The worm turned.

At 25 minutes in Marky closed his eyes and handed over to  hairdo Skeatsie.

No causal connection.

It was Zulu, remade by, er, Zulus.

Wave upon wave they came. And scored and scored and scored.

Another Victoria’s Secret Cross to Quatrocentagenarian (40th, right?)Assistant Gardener.

Emptys more nets than a quota-drunk Sealord shareholder.

Probably half time. Probably “strategy” talk. Probably ignored.

Down about 3 or 4 nil at this stage. Can’t remember. Cackling with love rat Nige after first 25.


Half the second.

Us still useless. 11 drips without a plumber.

Think they scored again.

Marky masturbating in penalty area.

Corner ball glanced off surprised penis.

Quel surprise!


How terrific.

Must do much much better.




Auntie Mavis