BUGS, A BURNT BONCE AND SOME BALL BOOTING

8th August 2026 - Wilmslow Albion 2 v 3 Uppermill Res - The day started with this Fungalised git getting up early and cycling from Stockport to Earlam's Tea Rooms in Styal.  A chill, a brekkie bap and a coffee - it were ruddy needed, I already had a sweat on.  A Painted Lady Butterfly was nice to see, a brace of Mint Moths and a few other species were logged, tha' gotta do tha' bit rather than staring into space scratching one's clammy conkers. A short cycle and the morn was spent in a small area of the local country park, away from the mush and mooching in the undergrowth.  I got a few strange looks from folks marching along, looking at their phones, missing real life and perhaps wondering what a bare-bellied blighter was doing with a net in the long grass.  Well, I was admiring many species and clocking up a small list before grabbing another coffee and beetling about in a farmer's field on my lonesome - it were ruddy grand.  Long Winged Coneheads; Lesser Marsh Grasshoppers; Common Field Grasshopper; Common Green Grasshopper and Roesel's Bush Cricket's kept me company (as well as a few other critters) and got me so absorbed that when the farmer arrived to close the gate I had misplaced my T-shirt.  Thankfully the ragged garment was found, I had a quick natter with the polite man of the fields and ambled on.  'Old McDonald had a farm, E-I-E-I-O, and on that farm there was a twat, E-I-E-I-O etc etc. I was soon at the ground for today's game, fagged out, a trifle burnt and in need of a sprawl, with a 'fuck, fuck here, a bugger, bugger there, a fuck, fuck, bugger, bugger fuck.... well you get there drift, I blame sun-stroke.

20+ species were recorded  before I stretched the carcass and had a read.  A few chapters, a walk around the pitch where I had a quick gasbag with the home team Manager before grabbing a coffee and a can of cider from the lovely lady in the vehicle of victuals. I soon found my chosen ogling spot and got the pen and paper ready.  The liner was an Uppermill bod whose son was playing, a ruddy decent bloke who nattered throughout the first half rather than attend to his flag waving duties - such is this Non-League game at this glorious level.

I counted 35 peeps in attendance, a shame because this is a grand set up - but I was there, enjoying the game and here is what I saw.

A Brown Hawker whizzed by, the ball got moving. The first sortie forth and a long Uppermill ball came, No 11 (Ellis Racz) was galloping but the globe had too much impetus and pinged from the yellowing baked surface thus negating a true crack on goal.  The game's opening throes were rather fractured to say the least with the hosts not fully settled and the guests working darn hard off the ball.  The home No 10 nearly snuck in but the visiting No 1 (Jack Darnbrough) was alert and quelled the threat.

 

A lack of high end action was noted, it duly saved me using ink I suppose.  Eventually the game took on a pattern and became more composed.  The guest No 3 (Kyran Rees) was looking a very relaxed customer and knocked a quite accurate ball down the line from which a cross was made, No 9 (Oscar Newton) arrived and set the sights before firing home.  This was a simple, effective and crucial goal highlighting how the game can be played with great effect.

 

Wilmslow now tried to respond, a corner was delivered with eye-catching accuracy but the keeper was fist-ready and punched away.  A player was felled, the ball somehow ended in the net, alas no goal was given.  Another angled hoof came the same way and again the postal service was first class but unfortunately the mittman had been practicing his fisting skills (ooh the nasty perisher) and thumped clear. The resident ranks continued to push, got rather carried away and were caught on the hop.  Uppermill darted away, Newton had a shot, the keeper saved, the sphere was loose and the same attacking blighter stepped up and doubled the lead.  

 

The half had absolutely blazed on, I continued to make notes, natter with the liner and take in this early season spectacle.  Wilmslow needed a response, Uppermill continued to push, Rees put in a fine cross, the keeper pushed away and Racz pounced, struck first time and bagged himself a quite lovely goal.  By fuckin' crikey, 0 - 3 already and the game looked to be turning into something even Mystic Meg couldn't have predicted.  I wondered where the hosts could grab a life line from when a free-kick from distance was awarded.  The ball was humped into the box, the rising bonce made no contact, the keeper seemed confused and the ball bounced once and ended up in the back of the net - a bonus and a shocker in one twitch of a turtle's todge. It seemed Tom Long was given credit for the strike.

 

With mere minutes of the first half left I suggested to the liner that another goal was coming, I have seen this kind of occurrence so many times when a team looks to be heading into the break without a hope only to be given a lease of life through a bit of luck and a late goal.  Uppermill nearly bagged another when the home keeper was caught wandering but the danger was cleared and then a Wilmslow ball was hammered forth, a shot at the back post came and the ball was blocked and there for the taking.  No 7 (Jacob Moores) for the Albion was quickest to react and tapped it home - suddenly it was 2-3 and the end result was anyone's guess.  

 

The half ended with a few scurries here and there, this had been an entertaining 45 minutes for sure.  As the liner went for a break and to have a rest on the other side of the pitch, a chainsaw wielding maniac came and gave me visions of those 80's video nasties where limbs were severed and blood was spilled.  Thankfully he was a nice bloke just trimming a bit of vegetation.  Personally, as a nature lover, I would leave the greenery for the struggling bugs and set up a pitchside circumcision business.  Anyone having a bit of foreskin trouble could watch some fine football, get the nob-flesh seen to for a small fee and help keep the club going forward, whilst keeping the tip of the todger healthy and this trim-happy chap employed - win, win and skin methinks.

 

And to half two.  I was feeling rather heated, I was hoping this would be another bout of intriguing capriciousness.  Wilmslow advanced via a cool build up that culminated in a shot deflected behind.  The corner was dealt with and Uppermill responded and won a corner of their own that the keeper punched clear.  Wilmslow however were now looking the better prospect and just needed some up-front composure, quicker balls from the back and a smattering of good fortune.  The travelling tribe won another kick from the corner, the ball in was of decent standard but the keeper was solid with his adhesive 'Evo-Stik' hands - ah the good old glue-sniffing days.

 

The game now became tighter than the governments environmental budget but Uppermill came close to snatching another goal when Newton chased a seemingly lost ball. The globe was delivered with a shot coming from a bod I missed the number of and a defensive block helping snuff out the peril.  Substitutions came, a few shots each way also followed, the game however remained as it was with many a player looking rinsed out and ready for the final whistle.  The home No 10 had a pop via a free-kick earned following a very tidy passing sequence - the shot however was low and poor, just like a poverty stricken depressive.  Uppermill were now getting pushed back and playing a dicey game, Wilmslow Albion though were hitting too many inaccurate balls forth to put the shits up the opposing ranks.

 

10 minutes were now left, a cool composed head was needed, in this heat it seemed a forlorn hope.  The hosts pressed, No 17 found himself close in with the equaliser to grab but somehow the ball was blocked.  A decent pop by the same player followed, alas it was straight at the awaiting mitter.  From here all we got was a desperate handball shout, a few skirmishes and that was that - how we had 5 goals in the first half and sweet FA in the second is beyond me but perhaps credit to the defenders must be given.  Man of the Match for me goes to Uppermill's No 3 (Kyran Rees) a player who plays at his own pace, keeps the noggin down, avoids any nonsense and seems to find space and provide many a good ball.  It was a fair stint, I hope the after match champagne was kept out of the sun and nicely chilled.

 

I was soon back on the bike heading home, a good trip out and a ground I should visit more often, I will see what I can do as the season develops.

 

FINAL THOUGHTS - Well, we are in the embryonic stages of the campaign, both teams have a lot of work to do it seems but there is a lot of promise too.  Uppermill for me won this game due to working mighty hard off the ball and not getting overly rushed into making hasty plays.  In this day and age the art of football is sometimes marred by a frenetic pace that destroys the fundamentals and ruins the full potential of many teams.  Even though this was apparent today, at times the visitors had composure and worked well as a unit.  The only blip I would suggest is to not get pushed back when the other team are fighting to get back into the contest and to make sure that when 3 goals ahead, the game is put to bed with its nightcap on.  Wilmslow Albion blew this in the first half due to a slow start.  To add to their problems too many balls from the back were late arriving I thought and the runs of many eager beavers at the front were thus wasted.  To be fair though the team did well to take advantage of a snippet of good favour and work their way back in and make the second period a really well-balanced affair.  I can't see the team struggling and reckon they have good potential but, if the potential is not tapped and their first points of the season not bagged fairly soon, then things could easily slip into the land of despair.  My diary is laden with walks, gigs, trips and many games, I am seeking a fixture list as I type as I want to try and get back here several times this season, I may even do another report unless the Buzzsaw Badman cuts my fingers off - crikey - I think I need a Driller Killer fix.

 

NB: - the home teamsheet never transpired, I apologise for missing names out, I may rectify if details this way come!

EARLY DAYS, WASTEFUL WAYS

3rd August 2026 - Cheadle Heath Nomads 2 v 2 Widnes Town FC - The dictates of time were ruling the roost at the moment with the diary laden with dates, scribbles and re-arrangements.  The day was spent having a quick cycle, recording a few insects in a local meadow (that was now drier than the skin of Imhotep and as pale as the countenance of Count Yorga after a going on a vegetarian diet).  Once home I sorted the latest sightings, had a read and did a few chores.  The game planned for tonight had to be changed as I was due to speak at a local Columbo Convention but again plans were changed due to the recently ordered glass eye and corpse-skin cigars having been lost in the post.  So a very local game it was, and after a good curry for tea which left my anal areas in a state of thermally heightened agitation, I cycled the few local streets and arrived at the Nomads with pen and paper ready. I am trying to go on a short roll with these reports before I start to lead a load of wildlife walks which will leave me little in the way of 'extra time'.  So, ogling spot chosen, coffee sipped and pants lowered so as to ease the duffelbag temperatures and the game went something like this:-

The air was kissed by a cooling breeze, the play began with Widnes earning an early free-hoof after some very slick passing.  No 9 (Adam Palfrey) applied the executioners touch with a low grass-grazer lacking in gumption and allowing the keeper to get down and smother. This was as close as we got to any high end action during the early throes but Nomads were noticeably industrious and fizzing with eagerness.  The guests dashed hither and tither and worked up a good foam but could only manage to win another free-kick that No 10 (Josh Quarless) took and nearly brought down the local aircraft. By heck, was he looking to earn a place in his Town's local rugby side - surely his balls are not that misshapen.

 

It looked as though a goal was a mere dream when a long ball saw the Widnes No 3 (Jack Hont) nut the said sphere over his own keeper.  The ball was heading forth, all it needed was the slightest touch to guide it into the netting but the chasing striker was just too late to apply the assassins touch.  The corner came, in and out the ball went with No 10 (George Colville) having a punt that went over the bar. Back and forth matters went and a goal was beckoning when the Nomads burst forth from a midfield gathering like a wrestlers testicle from a pair of overstrained shorts (oh Shirley Crabtree ya sexed up bastard).  A touch and No 9 (Daniel Lewis) crossed first time with No 11 (Chigozie Ewelike) reacting as quick as The Flash with a 3 prong plug up his arse.  No messing, no thought for any unnecessary intricacy - a shot, a bulge of the net and 1- 0 it was and a fine goal built on rapidity and alertness had.

 

The touch paper had now been finally lit, Widnes needed to be careful or they would be severely burnt.  Time galloped on, little in the way of a response came, despite the away team putting in some good movement.  Nomads came closest to bagging a second when a ball was won due to nothing more than ardent desire.  No 7 (Dylan Woods) was at the apex of the move, the shot that came though was just off target. The home lads earned a gratis-punt soon after, Colville dinked one, Lewis arrived and buried the ball - a neatly executed move with a quite simplistic finish - as simple as A, B and C.  A few spicy tackles came, a bit of niggling and some minor glimpses of goal at both ends and then we were done.

 

I stayed put for half-time, was joined by local togger Mark Torbitt who was keen to relate a tale about a recent sexual conquest.  Apparently the man with the lens had been stalking a Joe Gladwin look-a-like in the hope of having a long-term relationship and giving rise to an army of 'Speccy Twats'.  It transpired that a meeting in a back street doss house had been arranged and Mark had satisfied his bodily needs only to find out that the article of his attention was the actual resurrected body of Mr Gladwin himself . As one can imagine Mark was overjoyed by this revelation, indulged in several more fumblings and even invested in his own pair of jam-jar glasses.  News of a tribe of cretinous living dead will no doubt be all over social media soon, I remained amused and yet a trifle disgusted - I hope none of these halfwits will be living near me.  

 

And to half two!  I swallowed more anti-psychotic pills, breathed deeply and banished the visions borne from the half-time yarn.  Widnes came forth with a new found relish, No 8 (Jordan Deer) charged in, had a dig and won a corner from the deflected shot.  The ball was posted, a break was building with the Nomadic No 8 (Collins Tanor) on it and clattered - the referee did well to just give a free-kick.  No success was had from this dead ball and a few others bore the same end result as the game became mightily fractured with one team looking for a goal and the other trying to protect what they had.  I was joined by Nomads Director of Football, namely Andy Gray.  We assessed the game and nattered on when Andy asked me if I was interested in purchasing a Scottish Sex Weeble.  I examined an egg shaped article and admired the smooth finish and tartan colouring - I was convinced and acquired a half dozen - my arse may be tingling with pleasure very soon - I just hope the one holding bagpipes doesn't irritate my prostate.  

 

As Andy bagged the payment we looked up to see the Nomads get their defensive knickers in a twist and allow No 11 (Xenon Bahula) to sneak in and bumble the globe homeward - what a gift, what a faux pas, what a fuckin' cock-up.  Widnes were now given renewed hope and started to play with an unquenchable desire.  Bahula was in the midst of the next noteworthy move with a fine cross put in across the face of goal that was begging for the killers toe-kiss.  No contact was made but the pressure remained on the home rear end.  No 15 (Carl Rogers) was the opening pawn in the next move and delivered a fine long throw right onto the bonce of Quarless.  The cranial flick on was delicate, No 6 (Eoim Hogan) arrived and the touch home was delivered - 2 - 2 - talk about blowing a potential 3 points.  The home side looked bewildered.

 

Nah then, my pre-match prediction of 2-2 was looking good but the previous Saturday I was all set for a bang-on score when late goals blew any chance of success.  As per, I prefer to be way out of sync as long as there are goals aplenty.  This game was up for grabs, The Chemics looked highly likely to take the final 3 point prize but were just lacking composure and a bit of luck.  Rogers had a low shot though and the post was clattered, this could have been a real turning point (I wonder if Buck could have done any better)?

 

We entered the closing stages, Bahula for Widnes was felled in the box, no penalty was the verdict, I was in wholehearted agreement.  Hogan for the guests had a crack but the low shot flew wide and then we had a smattering of touchline trouble as gobs let off steam and all sorts of silly bollocks occurred.  In the midst of this the Bahula was sent for an early dip which I think slightly pissed on the chips of chance for the Widnes pack.  Play resumed and with over-enthusiastic desperation taking hold no further highs were had and we were done.  Man of the Match was contemplated again, it was a close affair but I think Cheadle Heath Nomads No 2 (Callum Graham) played a controlled game, had his hands full at times but stuck to his guns and made sure that things were re-steadied at the back after 2 startling leakages.  

 

Homeward I went, it had been an entertaining game for sure but one that left both teams with 2 points lacking - and Nomads with their second 2-2 draw in a row - oh and with this here Fungalised git with a bang on prediction - crikey, I may buy a few more of them Weebles as way of a treat!

 

FINAL THOUGHTS - Well what can one add at this early stage in the season.  I expected much from Widnes during this campaign and yet tonight they looked a team far from the finished article.  The first half I thought they were poor but the second half showed that they have a resilience and a belief and were on the good side of Lady Luck.  They dug deep and several players showed that they can help this side move on and get some fine results.  The team must remain disciplined though and make sure they work darn hard off the ball and keep their opponents unsettled.  We are only a couple of games in and perhaps at month's end we can judge where this lot will end up - I will no doubt be catching them again at some point!  Cheadle Heath Nomads were darn average during the pre-season friendlies I saw and gave me little in the way of hope for the season ahead.  Tonight they were a different kettle of fish with the first half showing a fine work rate and some really admirable desire both on and off the ball.  The main blip was allowing the opposing force back in and when under the cosh not finding enough in the way of an escape option to negate the threat.  Things are promising though and not as bleak as I initially deemed.  I hope they do OK, it is a good set-up and worthy of a competitive campaign.  Of course they are my local side so more visits will follow through the coming weeks, and perhaps a greater insight into the deviant lives of the folks who work at the club - for a lowly entrance fee it is all good ruddy value tha' knows and better than stopping in and contemplating how many processed peas one can fit in ones navel.

WELL, ER, NOT A BAD DO AT ALL

1st August 2026 - Wombwell Town 4 v 2 Brigg Town - The ravages of a thermally heightened summer continue with many places aflame and people sagging under the solar spite.  Some people had mental lapses and had indulged in wasting time on a thing called the World Cup?  I saw 20 minutes of it and had had enough - I hear it was as bent as a rubber man's nob, was awash with adverts and water breaks and lacked the mystery we used to enjoy back in the hey day. Donald Trump got involved I heard, the great soccerised sagacious one giving more dictates and dummy spit demands - and I hear people actually listened - you see, heatstroke does affect the mind! Anyway we had cracked on away from this cash-crippled piffle, striving to do our bit for the wildlife and the insects, birds, blooms and myriad wonders that say the planet is warming up and those in denial are the ones living with real fear.  Today we were up at the crack, out and about and arriving at RSPB Old Moor to have a wander, meet some fine folk and record what we saw.  In the car park and then to the cafe, our friends Gareth and Sandra  joined us and we duly set off for a pootle with the day's footy planned as a fine follow-up and added variation.  My music scene mate Rossi turned up with the good lass known as Pauline - we all set off and pondered many aspects of a fine world.

The outcome of the walk was 180+ species, some lovely weather (but we do need rain), a couple of fine cafe visits and the blood circulated, the noggin intrigued and some species listed and to be recorded.  From here we headed to the ground, paid our dues and took up the peeping positions.  The jaws wagged before the teams took centre stage and the new season proper got underway.  I had already squeezed in a couple of friendlies just to whet the appetite but they are mere asides as you can't beat proper Non-League competitive football.  As per, predictions were cast, and all hoped for a good hoofing contest.  Here we go again and this is the Fungalised take on matters that matter.

The spherical object (made of who knows what these days) was kissed by the tootsies of a boot-clad bod and the game was indeed, afoot (Ooh Mr Sherlock what mysteries the season doth hold).  The first incident of any import came from a frenetic start where both teams were laden with early season zeal.  A Wombwell flick header fell to the plates of No 7 (Josh Brown) who was just denied an early strike due to the alertness of the highly conscious guest keeper (Alfie Appleby).  Down at the other end of the pitch we went with a smooth passing sequence unfortunately pissed on by a poor apical grass grazer - the move was worthy of so much more.

No 11 (Reece York) for the visiting tribe had a pop soon after but matters lacked power and direction and then No 7 (Adam Drury) indulged in an impudent first time lob that was a very cheeky attempt but remained just too lofted.  Wombwell worked back and probed away via some thoughtful sequences of play.  A handball shout was desperate and waved away just like another similar hollering at the other end.  Pressing came by both attacking forces, a breakthrough looked about as likely as a politician telling the truth when a Wombwell push came, a lost cause was chased by Brown who was enough of a menace to cause a defensive blip whereupon No 11 (Joshua Haigh) stepped up and bumbled the ball goalward and... over the line.  By heck, the first goal of the season proper - here we go, here we go etc. etc.

From here Wombwell were the better team of this first period and were soon advancing again with good pace. The end result of a move with much promise was a shot by No 10 (Nash Connelly), a shot in fact that was lower than the gonads of the famed octogenarian Humberto Slacksack and weaker than the comedy of a PC-riddled Les Dennis wannabe. The keeper's positioning was a little off, the ball bumbled along and was met by a hand but enough gumption in the globe was had to see it trickle into the onion bag and double the home lead.  

Brigg Town were now up against it, a shot finalised a move, the home No 1 (Sebastian Malkowski) stood firm and a free-kick soon after was headed goalward but alas over the horizontal timber.  A smattering of argy-bargy crept into the game after a dubious decision by the sable-clad judge and then York for The Zebras had a dig that was wonderfully defended. 2 more punts followed with more fine defending had and that was period one done, dusted and consigned to the vaults.

We went to the opposite side of the pitch for part two, shared a banana whilst our fellow onlookers went to have a splash and stretch the shanks or, if unfortunate, to have a stretch and splash the shanks.  The sun was strong, the teams were soon back out and I was keen for more goals.

An early corner was soon achieved by the Wellers, in and out, a robust, fair tackle and some gobbing off.  Brigg worked away, No 8 (Lewis Collins) sent forth a delicious shot, the save that came was of a fine quality and kept the proverbial Willy of the Weller's sticking out in front.  A hoof from the angle went to the back post, a nut connected and sent the ball goalward but again the keeper answered the questions asked. The visitors continued to work up a good lather and create some pressure but by heck Wombwell were well organised and disciplined at the back and afforded little in the way of any real chances.  York chanced his shank with a decent annelid sizzler but the attempt was deflected wide and the corner produced bugger all.

The game continued with things looking very balanced when a Brigg ball came and No 9 (Josh Batty) wasted no time in looping an effort right over the keeper and into the back of the net.  A really well taken goal and looking to inject new levels of intrigue into the game but, no sooner had the restart happened then Wombwell advanced, Haigh posted a sumptuous cross and No 9 (Ollie Fearon) applied a firm crust contact and the 2 goal cushion was restored.  What a ruddy sweet goal, sweeter in fact than the sugar-dipped nipples of Hilda Baker (so my mate Rossi had me believe).

Matters were racing on now, corners came each way, Fearon went close again and suddenly we were into the last 10 minute spell. The guests hammered away, another shot was superbly blocked by the home No 6 (Jack Wilson) and then a close in header by Batty was put over the bar with No 12 (Dayle Southwell) having a shot soon after that the keeper did well to fist away.  With the clock turning, the trailing ranks made a concerted effort and were  rewarded when a ball in was sent homeward by the fresh and lively Southwell - it was deserved for sure.

This late strike set things up for a final fling of uncertainty and one wondered if a stealing of a point could be had by the team with renewed belief.  Alas it was not to be as Brigg pushed and were caught with their trousers of confidence down.  A long hoof forth, a touch on and Wombwell's No 12 (Louis Hart) was in the right place at the right time and buried the game as a contest with a low shot that was too tasty for the mittman.  Soon after we were done, I think, on the balance of play, the result was highly fair.  Man of the Match was a difficult one but I thought Wombwell Town's No 6 (Jack Wilson) put in a quite concrete stint and led from the rear in a strong and unflustered way.  It is these kind of performances that sometimes get overlooked even though they are the key to a teams end victory - a good effort and here's to many more as the season unfolds.

So, farewells, a chat in the car park with Rossi (no, I didn't buy the Ms Baker nude snaps) and home.  A good early jaunt 'off-patch' - I think we may be back over the border very soon.

FINAL THOUGHTS - 2 teams awash with the joys and eager beaver hormones of early season promise.  All predictions bore no fruit although my 3 -1 win for the hosts was looking good until a couple of late strikes.  Brigg Town looked good but just ran out of ideas up front and failed to deal with Wombwell Town's rigid defending.  I can't see why The Zebras will lose any stripes this campaign, they just need to get a rub of the green, stay focused and work on the creativity factor.  I hope we can watch them again at some point during the season, I will keep an eye on the fixtures.  Wombwell Town look pretty close to being a complete unit and have pace, flair and a certain solidity.  With 3 points in the bag the first stone is laid on which to build a temple of Triumph - or indeed on which to disturb the foundations and make for a false promise and a Church of Chances lost - it is all about focus and discipline and there is a long, long way to go.  Again, my orbs shall be observing fixtures and a chance to see this lot in action again - they could be in for a very rewarding season indeed.

END OF SEASON ROUND-UP

2025/2026 SEASON ROUND UP

Matches attended

62

Goals witnessed

275

Average goals per game

4.43

Highest scoring game

Wythenshawe FC 11 v 1 City of Liverpool

Ten most seen teams

Maine Road FC 12

City of Liverpool 10

Cheadle Heath Nomads 7

Cheadle Town 5

Maine Road res 4

Droylsden FC 3

Holker Old Boys 3

Manchester Corinthians 3

Cheadle Heath Nomads res 3

Abbey Hey 3

Raffles won

It goes without saying (but I will) - sweet FA.

Match Reports Done

18 (I am picking and choosing these days, family time, gigs, nature recording and many other interests keep this bugger on the cusp).

End of season round-up

Well here we are again, another season done and in truth, I am not sure where it went.  As I have been snowed under with gigs, CD reviews, nature walks, trips here and there and the hectic day to day living of a multi-faceted enthusiast (otherwise knows as a 'passionate idiot') the season seemed to have just flown by leaving me considering how many matches I missed.  Having said this, I did what I did, my missus was fine company at many games (too many in her lovely opinion) and it was good to have a season as varied as ever and enjoying the company of many grand folk who love this Non-League lark.

The highlights came with several games in Cornwall where we visited 3 different grounds whilst in the midst of wildlife recording and exploring new areas.  We shall return and hope to get another hat-trick of games in, I thought the set ups at Helston Athletic, Wendron United and Pendeen Rovers where spot on with the latter right up my DIY street and affording some lovely views.  We may well return to these grounds or indeed seek out a couple more that I have my eye on, we shall go with the flow and see how things transpire.  It was also a joy to return to Portland United in Dorset and enjoy another superb jolly at a ground that is ruddy grand for those who like to sit in the sun on a raised bench and watch the game unfold.  

Back up North and trips to Liversedge, Dearne and District FC, Fulwood Amateurs and Rossendale FC were memorable with many usual teams supported along the way.  Of course Maine Road FC got their usual share of the Fungal scrutiny and after a glorious start to the season at home, the away record continued to falter until a full-on collapse was had and the team finished bottom of the heap.  It was sad to see such a demise but in fairness a few games were close and with a bit of luck they could have bagged a few more points.  Alas the league doesn't lie and if you finish plum bottom that is where you deserve to be.  I think things will turnaround here and next year (if a reprieve is granted) I expect a top half finish.

The other team whom I took time to watch also finished bottom of their respective pack and went through a campaign of utter turmoil and disorganisation.  I watched the City of Liverpool when they first started and have seen them here and there over several years.  This year I saw a team fall apart, capitulate many times over and end matters with a quite abysmal record.  The club is in freefall but I suspect this could be the time to restart the revival - I hope so, we need clubs like this and hey, I gotta meet up with the trio of terror (Lee, Dan and Peawack) whom are always good company and of course good old Bill, what a fine example of supporting your club through thick and thin and a real two-fingered salute to the hoards of flimsy success jockeys out there. One good thing about the COL team though, they certainly kept my goal average up (yikes).

And so, we are looking down the barrel at a new season with lots of changes to leagues, new teams to see and hopefully a few new grounds to visit.  I will pick a team to concentrate on and get the usual faves visited and assessed.  I will pick and choose where I do a report and sneak towards the target of 500 and I hope I can do a few articles for that fine Non-League Magazine 'Where's The Bar'. As per, we shall jig and juggle around the DIY gigs I do, the days out, family life and work and I hope to see some good hoofing, the usual capricious events and the wonderful people I gasbag with and who make this game what it is.  Non-League hey - what a glorious realm.

OF GODS, HINKLES AND DRY WINKLES

11th April 2026 - Hinckley AFC 3 v 3 Godmanchester Rovers - The day started with a fair drive and then a good walk around Sutton Park.  By heck it is a rather large area and we put in some good leg work after having a fine breakfast in the local cafe.  We saw a fair few bird species, only a few blooms and the odd insect.  I was rather chilly but it was a good walk and a few nature records here and there all helps the big fight I hope and will garner a little more respect for that which is punk as fuck and keeps us all ticking.

From here we took a short drive (about 25 minutes) and found the ground with no mither at all.  The wind was rattling as we left the car and noted a clump of Mistletoe growing in a tree - kisses for the referee methinks although my wife may frown especially as I wasn't wearing my best lipstick.  We paid (concessions, yes we are of that age) and grabbed a brew and some chips before looking at the skies and going for an undercover seat, this turned out to be a wise move. Settled and ready to watch the game unfold the first free-kick came the hosts way with the ball played short, No 3 (Gabe Webster) delivering and just failing to find the target man.  Seconds later the home team came again and a stunning delivery went right across the goal mouth with once again, no takers there to grab an early lead.  Godmanchester started to gain a gonad-hold on the game and did some serious probing (ooh it all sounds like the dabblings of Dr Undercarriage the infamous gynaecologist).  No 7 (Andre Williams) eventually found himself in possession out wide, worked inward and hit a low shot that was way too tame to a shake up the shitter of the mitter.  

Overall, this was a slow starting game with a kick up the contestants arses very much needed. Matters progressed and a stalemate looked on the cards until the home No 10 (Brady Middleton) put in a good zesty drive that looked to break the deadlock but the guest No 1 (Max Rigby) was up to the save.  No 8 (Devon O' Sullivan) had a pop soon after, alas the end result was rather wank to say the least.  Not long after though a ball was sent out wide and delivered.  A defender dealt with it but No 11 (Rajdeep Palit) was soon on it, taking a look and chancing the shank.  The ball burst from the tootsies, moved a trifle whilst in the air and gave the keeper little chance of stopping it. 1 - 0 it was and the game was finally on.

From here we saw a much more active and competitive game.  Godmanchester won a throw high up the park after some neat work from No 3 (Zane Campbell).  The ball was cast forth, a flick on came, incoming attackers were noticeable by their absence.  The same team won a free-kick after No 8 (Ed Randerson) displayed a good pair of feet.  Alas the gratis punt was executed in a manner of shite proportions.  A few more efforts came at each end, a penalty shout by the guests was ignored by the sable clad man in the middle and then Middleton for the hosts was found via a honey-dripped pass that left him with the keeper to beat.  The shot came, the net awaited but the timber was boomed, it was a golden chance I suspected would be punished.  Suddenly Godmanchester were on it, Campbell took hold, played a pass that went on to No 10 (Ben Seymore-Shove) who indulged in a shimmy, a shake and a shot. 1 - 1 it was and what a decent strike to get matters back to all square.

Hinckley came on, a break saw Palit at the apex and let fly a low sizzler that was mere inches wide.  No 7 (Zach Tellyn) had a crack of his own from a fair distance.  The attempt was a fine effort with the keeper beat but the underside of the bar was clattered allowing the ball to be cleared - now that would have been a beauty!

The last hoorahs of period the first saw a Godmanchester corner posted and No 9's (Craig Gillies) header go off target.  The guests had a couple more pushes of promise but the birthing of a goal was not to be witnessed and as the teams went in for a break I reckon 1 - 1 was a fair result, although Hinckley would be rueing a couple of great chances squandered.

We stayed put for the interval, shared a bit of dark chocolate and planned a post-footy walk.  There was a growing nip in the wind, the clouds were gathering and appeared to be discussing the potential of a downpour, I was hoping they would take a leak sooner rather than later so we could have a piddle-free pootle and keep the nethers dry.

And back to the game, Hinckley came out with urgency.  A ball was sent out wide, Tellyn put in a cross and Middleton touched on but was denied by an alert keeper.  The Goddy Gang responded with a corner but the end result was woeful.  The guests soon came again, a throw in, No 9 (James Spruce) flicking on which saw the globe touched wide. Things were getting dicey for the resident ranks but they started to pull themselves together and worm their way back into matters.  An attack came, Tellyn fed Palit, a solid dig at the strike zone came, the mittman was down and saved well.  The resultant corner produced nowt!

Now the threat from the heavens came to fruition, by heck what a downpour!  In the midst of the climactic turmoil Godmanchester won a free-kick from which Hinckley broke with Tellyn feeding Palit whose header went wide.  The end to end action increased in zest, all we needed was a touch of decisiveness and cultured control.  Hinckley came on, a potential break was imminent but the robust No 4 (Johnny Hall) for Godmanchester stood firm with legs planted and arms waving much to the disgust of one elderly gent who was sat nearby.  'Get yer arms down fatty' came the holler, much to the amusement of those around him. 

The game rolled on, Palit had a crack that went straight at the keeper and Tellyn of the same team started to grow into the game with a shot of his own very well struck but, like the bras of Big Bella Emberg, there was too much uplift.  Another floating effort by the same player soon after was sweetly struck but just flew shy of the top corner.  Surely the guy was gonna grab a goal?  In return Seymore-Shove for Goddy offered some respite with a shot that was saved but which gave rise to a corner.  The ball was hoofed long, Hall was loitering at the back post and a suckerpunch was had.  It seems that fatty may win the day - a big moment and a ray of hope for those with a season ticket to Slimmer's World perhaps?

From here Hinckley surged, a shot was defended with the ball falling at the feet of Tellyn who wasted no time in sending forth a low sizzler and levelling the game.  Hinckley were on a roll and continued to push, this was now a very entertaining game.  Godmanchester rushed on, Seymore-Shove was out wide and duly fed Gillies who sent in a shot that lacked strength but was awash with accuracy which allowed it to find the back of the onion bag - by jove sir, 5 goals in a cracking clash, who would have thought it?

The onus was now on the hosts to try and salvage something from a game slipping away, they dug in, Tellyn continued to weave several merry paths and bust a bollock when a ball was delivered and fell to his feet. The player in question had the composure to bury and get the game back to all square.  My good lady had predicted a 3-3 draw before the game, I was impressed to say the least and wondering how much she had paid Lady Luck to be on her side (or was it just skill)?  Either way this was a fine match-up and as the final minutes enveloped our attention we were wondering if any team would find a winner.    A few shots came at either hand, the keepers were called into action and desperation dictated the play but we stayed as we were and the crowd applauded all as the final whistle blew and the players left the stage.

Man of the Match goes to Hinckley's No 7 (Zach Tellyn) - he got better and better as the game went on, became a constant irritating crumb in the underpants of the opponents and with 2 goals and some good moves the nod of appreciation is well deserved.  We buzzed off after the game and had a nice early evening stroll recording birds and blooms and the odd brave bug.  A darn decent day methinks.

FINAL THOUGHTS- For once there is little to add, an end of season game with two teams putting in a worthy stint and ending up sharing the spoils.  It was a match that started slowly but became a belter and the matching of styles gave all those who came good value for money.  The hosts will be rueing several missed chances, I suspect the guests reckon they should have hung on and won it - such is the footballing world.  The set up here is spot on, it feels like a proper Non-League ground with some good banter and smiling faces and a really pleasant feeling all round with no foul-mouthed goonery and macho morons.  The chips were spot on too and I reckon, when in the area again, we shall be back and appreciating what goes on at another fine club.  We may well watch Barwell too - you gotta keep it varied man.

VICTORIA TOO STATION-ARY

21st March 2026 - Portland Utd 3 v 0 East Cowes Victoria - Whilst darn sarf pootling abart tha' has to get in a footy fix tha' knows.  After a good week of chilling and wildlife hunting we were nearly done and the penultimate day of our trip began with a walk from the Obs Lighthouse to Easton, a fine breakfast and a mooch in the charity shops and then the lasses headed off for a walk back whilst I spent 3 hours at Church Ope looking for anything I could find (bugs, birds, blooms, retro nuddie mags or indeed evidence of multi-titted alien invaders).  A few blooms were recorded, a small variety of insects and several other bits and bobs and I even got the old belly out to soak up the charming rays.  No sightings of any ET's (Extra Tittyvals) were had although I did find a few pages of a 1970's Cross-eyed Razzle Special.  Alas all the pictures were blurred and were made for people with off-centre peepers - I had a brief rock-pooling session in disgust.

The lasses duly picked me up at 2pm and we headed to the ground, one we had visited twice before and on both occasions, enjoyed some good footballing fun.  A brew and a perch and the sun shone but a darn nip in the air was building, I was hoping a goalfest would warm the cockles and a match of battling intrigue.  What we got was chilled nethers and a game that unfolded thus:-

The first thrustings of the game came via the hosts with an initial attack finalised by the ever-willing No 9 (Greg Borthwick) who cracked off a first time shot the keeper did well to get down to and save.  A swift follow-up move was sumptuous with a fast ball in and Borthwick once more latching on but failing to find the target zone. The guests were rattled and like an anxiety riddled flutternut who was in need of a medical fix, they were failing to settle.  The game nearly produced the first goal when the visiting keeper went on a nomadic foray and the home No 11 (Patrick Jenkins) spied a chance to send in a high lob.  The ball rose, started to descend whilst the keeper back-pedalled in desperation.  A defender made good ground and put bonce to ball and made enough contact to send the sphere onto the crossbar before being cleared - that was a real close shave. 

A more settled period ensued, a time when East Cowes could try and gain a foothold.  Alas for the guests they were lucky to survive a scare that came their way when a ball sent forth bounced off the top of he bar.  The home No 10 (Remus Nixon) was next to chance the shank but the ball was sent wide.  East Cowes hung on and their industrious No 7 (Charlie Hart) had a chance to scuttle about and win a free-kick.  The delivery of the standing ball was bilge and Portland pounced with a liquid move that Nixon sweetly dummied thus allowing No 4 (Jack Delves) to collect, touch and fire disappointingly over the horizontal.  From this low-grade strike East Cowes surprisingly broke and No 11 (Caleb Neale) found himself away and with the keeper to beat.  A shock strike was on the cards and a real pattern shifting moment ready to unfold.  The shot was low and on target but the mitters carcass was sprawled and in the way and from the corner we could only witness a dire attempt at a delivery.

Time progressed, beyond the point where we had a chance of winning the golden goal prize (who needs new underpants anyway).  No 2 (Jacob Coombs) for Portland went on a run, a low shot was blocked, Delves followed up but it was all too easy for the No 1 (George Bridi) who was having a decent game.  Portland continued to press, from a corner a sweet header was saved and then No 8 (Josh Williams) made cranial contact but again the gloved one collected.

Thermal temperatures rose on the pitch, we onlookers were beginning to feel the nip of a spiteful wafting.  Borthwick for the hosts was a constant menace, the visiting No 2 (Rafferty Boyd-Kerr) worked up a lather and in the midst of minor antics a booking was given.  No 7 (Ben Morris) for the hosts was an impressive player so far but an attempt on goal was far from eye-catching.  As the half trickled away Portland rallied, a ball was sent into the box, the keeper was down but the ball went loose and up popped Borthwick and bagged a scrappy but all important goal.

The end of the half came with East Cowes having a strong flourish but failing to make any serious inroads.  It looked as though matters were to stay as they were when Portland produced a swift and fluent move with Delves providing an excellent cross that was cooly driven home by Jenkins.  A fully deserved goal and a fully deserved lead.

The break, we were chilled and my good lady went for the brews.  I nattered with my daughter before the missus returned and we pondered our break and going to the chippy for tea.  I am still on a diet but whilst mooching darn sarf a treat or two is a must - and I was clemmed.

With rumbling tum and tootsies griping, the second period began. Morris put in an early teaser for the resident pack and wasn't too far off the mark.  In truth, the initial throes were lacking in high end action with Portland eventually winning a  corner, seeing the ball punched away and soon after a penalty shout waved away.  Portland continued to press, corners, free-kicks and a few shots all bore no further glory but East Cowes were reeling and a knockout blow looked to be on the cards.

The bests the guests could offer was a corner kick that was neatly taken only to be dealt with by a well-regimented back-line.  A handball shout came, the visitors were getting desperate but the sable-clad man was having none of it.  Portland dug in, another angled hoofing saw the ball go in and out and then No 6 (Jamie Cleaver) fire over.  Nixon had a pop a few minutes later but due to an imbalance of the carcass the globe was sent wide.  No 2 (Jacob Coombs) put in a better effort, the mesh protector stood firm, saved, dropped but grabbed at the second.  

As time dwindled away Nixon finalised a deep probing but yet again, the stickman was solid.  Cowes continued to scamper and hamper and made some territorial progress before losing the ball and seeing Portland break with Nixon at the end of matters and bagging the final punctuating strike.  The job was done and dusted, a few minor pops came and went, a couple of subs made and that was indeed that.  The chip shop beckoned as well as the nearby bogs that a certain part of my anatomy demanded I visit.   Whilst strolling to the latrines I pondered the Man of the Match and reckoned No 16 (Jamie Symes) of Portland Utd was a no-nonsense rock-solid component who gave no breathing space or real glimpse of glory for the opposing force.  The nut was on most aerial balls, the game played simply but effectively and it was a big stint that made sure the scoresheet remained unblemished.

With winkle watered, we headed to the local retailer of fine fodder and met up with some good friends.  What a good day all round and the chippy was an outstanding success too!

FINAL THOUGHTS- A good day out at a club we have visited 3 times now.  The ground has a good feel, the whole set up is a joy and the fact we were perched up on high, with nice views and the sun in the sky all helped today.  A bit of undersoil heating would have been a bonus but there ya go, a pasty down the underpants will have to suffice next time - ooh sex gravy!  I thought Portland controlled this game against an East Cowes Victoria side who looked to be set up all wrong and with no attacking presence and no real movement into space when in possession and when off the ball.  Maybe it was an off day for the guests but the scoreline could have been far worse although if that early chance would have been bagged would the outcome have been any different?