PRESSURE VALVE RELEASED

26th September 2020 - Ashton Athletic Reserves 1 v 2 Denton Town - The withered buttocks of Father Time had been pulled apart, another life devouring emission of impatience had been expelled and suddenly a further 7 day spell had been confined to the ranks of 'history'.  It had been another busy one, 3 days of work, 2 fungal walks led, 2 footy friendlies attended and more natural history tasks dealt with.  Today I woke early, glazed and dazed by the mithering maulers of a common cold (yes, just a cold, not Covid, not cranial pox and certainly not an attack of Dick-Damaging Dengue).  I used the morn to tidy up some loose ends (as well as the house), eat some uplifting scram and prepare for a trip to Brocstedes Park, with of course, my fine lady.  After a midday meal we duly set off, nearly 50 minutes later we had arrived and there, as if by magic (or other sinister sources) was our friend STP Stu, a man keen and enjoying his Non-League nutrients.  Prior to the kick-off we nattered, caught up with a few faces, acquired teamsheets and then considered the outcome.  The cards were revealed, for now I shall keep them close to my freshly plucked chest (now now ladies) but come the end I will reveal all.  I needed a good goal fest today, a streaking fat-man would be a bonus (especially if he had a U-bend in his nob and a see-through scrotum) but as long as the match was fair, competitive and played in the right spirit I would have no complaints.  If you are now sat comfortably, perhaps hoping for some descriptive text of the aforementioned overly large nude invader then I hope I can deliver the goods, if not I do apologise and am willing to send out some back issues of 'Obese Orifices' as recompense - let's see how things go shall we.

The clock struck three, there was a tremble of a pea and a ball got rolling to entertain you and me (The Non League Song by Martin Chivers 1979).  The first battalion to make any suggestion of threat was the away side with No 8 (Aaron Clayton) producing a delightful touch that allowed No 10 (Marcelo Arhin) to gather and make some space for himself.  The shot that came was firm and on-line, the home No 1 (Lewis Goulding) however tipped over with athletic assuredness.  A corner followed that eventually led to Clayton going on a wriggling run, threading a ball to No 7 (Tom Beswick) who sent forth an effort that was blocked by the aforementioned mitter.  A quick Ashton sortie culminated in a corner which, as it transpired, was delivered in the crappest possible way - on we go!  

The game tickled on with a nice tempo. No 9 (Joe Sargent) for the hosts nearly snuck in on the blind side when a back pass didn't have enough gumption.  Luckily for the Denton dudes the contact made lacked any kinetic energy.  The guests gave reply to this sub-scare with a low cross connected with but sent wide and then with a sweet ball that let loose No 9 (Brad McLaughlin) who disappointingly fired into the meat of the keepers physique.  In truth, Denton Town could have been 3 up already.

A certain watertight aspect was now gaining a stranglehold on the game with both team's netted area radiating a presence of impermeability.  Ashton were remaining patient whilst their opponents were displaying tireless verve.  No 11 (Harry Johnson) had a hopeful pop for the hosts but the outcome was shy of the vertical and then the Town No 11 (Harry Rowan) sent in a glorious cross that McLaughlin pounced upon leaving only the keeper to beat. The outcome - the keeper was not beaten - bah.

Onwards we went, Ashton burst forth via the striding No 10 (Dion Johnston) who posted a great ball into the hair-raising zone that Clayton eventually sent goalward only for the uplift to take it just over the bar.  Controversy came next as Denton Town's Rowan was clobbered on the line of the box with a penalty seemingly given but then changed to a free-kick. There was some confusion, the nobbled player was taken off and the bonus boot slammed into the wall.   The follow-up shot could only rupture the skyline rather than the netting - we remained goal starved.

The wind-down to the break saw the traveller's maintain the ascendancy with the breakthrough nearly had when No 3 (Josh Stachini) trespassed forth, delivered a great cross that Beswick walloped on the volley only for the goalie to sweetly tip over.  The corner kick was dealt with, some end to end action followed until the Dent-icians moved forth twice more with each move denied at the last by two outstanding tackles performed by the yellow and blue clad No 5 (Scott Lawrence) and No 4 (Ryan Smith) respectively.  One last chance was attempted when a dink pass over the defensive pack was played and Arhin looked to bury - the host keeper though was immovable and made sure we entered the interval void of penetrations.

A brew and choccy was much needed for the break and Stu did the business whilst we mask-less peeps waited outside.  I am not keen on this mask-wearing lark due to the last time I donned one I was under the influence of too much QC Sherry, disguised as Donald Duck and duly fell victim to the ravenous sexual appetite of Tinsel Town Tommy the Gay Cavalier of Digbeth.  I have never walked the same since and have always had a nervous twitch when feeding wildfowl - ooh it was a wretched time and man, what a magic wand that fellow had.

So with brews and Mars Bars we moved to the opposite side of the pitch and saw the 2nd period unfold with No 16 (Spencer Jenkinson) having an early punt at goal only for the man between the sticks to safely gather.  From here a heavy slice of midfield conflict ensued with no breakthrough of any ranks had.  The treacle period became more gloopy, I took the opportunity to nip off and direct my One-Eyed Sausage at the nearby shrubbery.  Leaving the local worm-hunting thrushes disappointed I zipped up, returned to the touchline and saw a swift Ashton break.  No 2 (Louis Pye) worked the flank, a shout of 'play it early' rent the breezy air and the requested quick ball was delivered.  In the right place at the right time was No 12 (Jamie Charnock) who lunged, stretched and sent the ball into the back of the meshing - 1 - 0 - what a sickener for the guests, what a relief for the home lads.

Time had now travelled with great haste, Denton needed to get to grips with this setback and do it in double quick time.  They were fortunate not to go 2 goals down when a rear cock-up saw Charnock nip in but be denied at the very last by a strong defending tootsie.  Corners and free kicks followed, all going the way of the trailing team.  Ashton remained as tight as the exchequers purse strings and gave nothing whatsoever away.  One Denton corner though nearly bore fruit when the keeper could only palm outward with the ball coming back and dropping loose.  The gloved guardian was quick to amend matters though and dropped on the ball quicker than a pelican on a 3 legged crab.

The final huffs and puffs came from a competitive game with the last flicker of life there to be manipulated.  Denton were in their own half with No 5 (Harry Welsby) in possession.  Suddenly the rearguard bod eyed up the situation, sent forth a pinpoint long ball that fell invitingly to the feet of McLaughlin.   The home keeper left his line. McLaughlin stayed cucumber cool and stroked the ball beneath the advancing carcass - the equaliser was had, the goal scorer looked a trifle pleased.

With only a few minutes left Denton seemed to want this one and came on strong.  Time appeared to be almost up and with one last effort the Town won a corner.  The ball was placed and delivered with speed and a slight swing.  No 4 (Elvis Amoakwa) used his spring-loaded ankles to rise above the pack, put belfry on ball and nut home with singular authority - it was a fine header, seconds later it was confirmed as the winning goal - and what a way to do it!  The final whistle rang out, Ashton Athletic looked deflated, Denton Town were ecstatic and as we wandered homeward I contemplated the Man of the Match and went for the Ashton Athletic  No 1 (Louis Goulding) who produced a string of good saves when his team were on the back foot and who was mighty unfortunate to be on the losing side.  A great stint between the sticks, keep at it fella, next time a clean sheet perhaps.

FINAL THOUGHT - A good visit this with a friendly welcome (especial cheers to Chris Picton), grand weather (thanks to Colin Climate, the controller of the clouds) and some good football (thanks to all the players involved.  I had a good natter with the referee before the game (what a keen fellow) who had a darn good game and when piddling in the brambles I remained snag-free and returned to the touchline with my foreskin in tact - I would count this as a good day for sure.

Ashton Athletic may have been a little out of sync today, ended the game with sour FA and looked to be beaten by a better team.  They will do OK during this campaign due to the undying efforts, pretty stingy defense and continued hard graft - they are surely going to win more games than they lose.  They have a few eye-catching players in the mix and for this, and several other reasons, I am going to make sure I see them a few more times this season and hope they keep on doing what they do.  Denton Town are a fairly local side to me, they have been a total disappointment this season but this could well be the turning point.  They are a good team with many fine elements in the mix.  Today they showed persistence and played for the full 90 minutes with the outcome being fully deserved.  I reckon this could be the start of a good run but let us not get carried away.  It won't be every week where they can squander so many opportunities and still pinch the full 3 point prize.  They must make the chances and bury them. I reckon if some fine tuning of the shooting boots is had the season will be there for the taking.  I reckon Denton will be my most watched side this year - I am expecting to experience many ups and downs, and for a change Tinsel Town Tommy won't be involved - ooh me arse!

OOH ME GOOL-IES

19th September 2020 - Cheadle Heath Nomads 3 v 7 Goole FC - The 1st qualifying round of the Buildbase FA Vase today, the start of the famed competition that will see teams from here, there and beyond throw in their all in the hope of lifting this highly prestigious cup.  This was my initial visit of the season proper to this local ground, I was expecting goals, a good cuppa and some nattering, the current climate is putting too many people on edge, this is the time to press on methinks.

Prior to the game I had been pottering around the house as the lasses had been away and were due back later on today.  The last few days I had been a good chap and kept things tidy, done some decorating and general DIY tasks.  I also indulged in a couple of films namely 'Invasion of the Bee Girls' and '20,000,000 Miles To Earth'.  I also read a few X-Men comics, listened to an array of music (The Scabs, The Birds, Eastfield, Dog On A Rope etc) and proof read part of my latest book.  After dinner I got ready and waltzed down to the ProSeal Ground contemplating the match result and wondering if Professor Xavier was a benefit fraud and if Proteus ever considered masturbating instead of causing trouble for the aforementioned super-heroes.  I once tried to join the X-Men but offended the female members of the team with my sonic stinkhorn and failed to convince their male counterparts with my electro-magnetic trembling testicles that could induce numbing blackouts.  The Fantastic Conker Clasher was my chosen heroic name, I had visions of starring in my very own publication facing my arch enemy Rectumulus - the Incredible Anal Overlord - can you imagine Issue One with its very own free scratch and sniff card - Reek-0-Tastic.

And so, without mask or cape, I eventually strolled to the chosen ground, found no need to use my time-altering nipple gun complete with lactating liquid and duly found my viewing point and awaited the action.  I suspected an away win by a few goals, this is what went down.

3pm, the traveling team looked to be filled with lively pips during the initial throes with the hosts having to gallop like buggery to hold their own.  The guests eventually won an early free-kick which was walloped against the wall, re-delivered and nutted off target - it was all irrelevant anyway as an infringement was spotted by the kestrel-eyed official.  The Nomads eventually warmed to the day's task and started to build, and maintain, some applaudable pressure.  2 corners followed, No 8 (Phillip Yuille) put belfry on both.  The first nutted attempt was quelled by a whistle, the second guided wide of the upright.  Goole reacted to these minor scares with a neatly threaded ball that saw No 11 (Nathan Keightley) gather, hold off his marker and crack towards the goal.  The host No 1 (Bruno Da Silva) was down quicker than a fly on a freshly dropped stool. The resultant corner came to nowt and then a long hoof forth saw No 7 (Kieran Herbert) sneak in and toe poke passed the onrushing mitter.  The ball rolled forth, a gasp went up and then a groan, wide of the mark was the outcome.

From here the Nomads kept advancing.  A long ball saw the guest gloved protector palm away.  No 3 (Jack McConnell) was there to gather and take a touch before propelling the globe goalward.  The No 1 (Ethan Cotton) produced a very solid save.  The hosts swept forth once again, like a plague of locusts looking to devour a drift of swaying vegetation.  2 cracks at the onion bag were issued, once again the keeper reacted well and blocked the ball.  More Nomadic pressure brought a free-kick which was leathered into the wall and brought about a handball shout.  The referee was in agreement with the pleading players - spot kick given.  No 9 (Richard Tindall) took the kick, reliably buried and gave his side a well deserved advantage. By heck, this was all go, go, go!

The re-start came, Goole were laden with urgency and No 7 (Anees Younis) played a quite sumptuous low crossball into the box that just needed the assassins touch to make for a perfect counterpunch.  The touch came, it was Keightley who slotted home - an ideal response if ever there was one.  Another re-start followed, this time the Nomads sprung fastest with a throw in earned.  The ball was tossed forth, No 10 (Dean McGregor) took it down, turned and poked home - 2 -1 - the lead was restored, the nib of my pen was glowing white hot, my John Thomas wasn’t much cooler, I do like a good bit of footy!

The half was now winding down, a cheeky chip free-kick for the hosts brought no takers and with only time for one more attack left it was a swift through ball for Goole that released Younis who, on the outside of the box, was duly tumbled by a wandering keeper and given a penalty kick.  The globe was placed on the spot and struck firm and true by No 9 (Regan Waud) - 2 - 2 it was - what a good half this had been.

When the referee blew I had a wander for a brew with Abbey Hey wildman Pete.  This was Pete's first game since lockdown and he was missing the action that was for sure.  It was good to see Pete still had his violent streak and when he cut off a nearby spectators ear with his freshly stropped Wilkinson' I had to say it was just like 'the good old day's'.  Even the guy who had his lug lopped was appreciative and thanked Pete for his generous attack - what a fine Christian fellow.  

So with pie and brew and a very contented Pete, I returned to my original viewing point and awaited half 2 - on the evidence so far Cheadle Heath Nomads were looking favourites - here we go again.

The start to period 2 was swift,  Goole advanced in double quick-time with Waud collecting out wide and allowed to cut inward.  The defending was slack, the striker had only the keeper to beat and this he did with a well-thumped shot that bulged the bag and brought great joy to his comrades but, the question is - how on earth were the Cheadle Heath Nomads losing this game?

With the aforementioned puzzle bouncing around my cranium No 6 (Luke Taylor) for the resident ranks bounded forth, beat 3 players and had his cross annoyingly blocked.  Another attack soon followed, the ball fell to the feet of Yuille who lashed home only to be ultimately frustrated by a flag-waving git on the line.  An infringement had been spotted, what it was I am unsure but this was a real kick in the conkers for a hard-perspiring team trying to get back into this one.

Goole were now looking to cement matters, Younis advanced and wriggled like a plugged in electric nob destined to do some impregnating.  The attempt at penetration came, thankfully the Nomadic defensive sheath stood strong, another goal was not borne.  The hosts were not getting pushed back but looked to be holding their own until the tricky No 10 (Jason Kitchen) forced forward, played the ball to No 8 (Reece Fennel) who brushed the ball homeward with relative ease - was this another insulting nail in the Nomad casket - things were not looking good.

On we went, the home lads were battling but not winning enough 50/50 contests.  On one such clash the ball ran the way of Goole's Waud who teased his marker before finding a glimpse of the goal.  The small sighting was enough to encourage a swing of the shank and the ball flew with enough bend to sweetly find the inside of the far stick.  It was a lovely goal and a great way to complete a decent hat-trick.

From here the trailing squad dug deep.  A fine burst saw a ball enter the box with Taylor rising well and nutting toward the goal.  Once again the keeper did his bit.  Kitchen was the next to have a wander forth for Goole and after a swivel and a swerve sent forth a shot that the home keeper did well to parry.  The loose ball was fired back at the gaping meshing and again the gloved fellow was there - what a great double save.  Alas moments later the man between the sticks was down and then off and with all subs used it was up to Tindall to stand between the uprights and try and keep the deficit down.

As Cheadle battled another counter came with the apical component being Keightley who concocted the right recipe to shoot from the angle and indent the awaiting fishnet rectangle.  This was now getting silly and not a true reflection of how the game had been.  From the kick off the beaten bunch were once again caught on the hop with a crossball coming, the scrambling keeper nudging out and No 5 (Jaden Sandhu) mopping up with relative comfort.  The lucky 7 had been had whilst The Nomads seemed to have to make do with a hurtful brace.  Suddenly, on the precipice of the final whistle the beaten crew had one last roll forward that somehow saw the ball land at the feet of No 12 (Kyle Foley) who got a consolation goal and full stopped the game on a paradoxical lowly high.  The game was called to a halt soon after, my Man of the Match choice went to the Goole No 1 (Ethan Cotton) for a string of saves that came at crucial moments keeping his team in it when the early going was tough.  The rest of the team should buy him a good drink, well done that man.

FINAL THOUGHT - For 35 minutes Cheadle Heath Nomads were the better team and yet were still falling short of taking full advantage of their possession - herein a problem is found.  The visiting keeper held his ground on several occasions and made some good saves but this is no excuse and in truth the team who eventually crumbled should have been going into the break at least 2 goals to the good and so making for a very competitive second half.  The fact they went into the break all square cost them mighty dear.  The key is being brave and committed at the last and offering as many options as possible thus keeping the opposing defence guessing.  When a chance then arises it is utterly crucial it is nailed - the consequences of not doing so are obvious, as seen today.  Goole were kept on the back foot for the main part of the first half but still hung in and for their efforts started the 2nd period on level footing and then really started to turn the screw.  Several players caught the eye today, Kitchen looked especially cultured, Waud was a cool finisher and Younis looked a perpetual pain in the proverbials.  Good luck to them in the next round, they deserved this win for sure.

So day done, in full sun and with good company, next stop Irlam methinks for a friendly, another 10 goals would be grand, and hopefully prior to the match, I will find out if my application to join The Avengers has been accepted, beware – Fungalpunkus is coming to a game near you!

FUNGI, CRICKET AND HOOFING

12th September 2020 - Malpas 0 v 1 Ashton Athletic - Today we were in South Cheshire leading a fungus walk, it was ruddy hard work with the ground sandy and dry but the punters who attended were happy with the outcome.  I did find them a Dead Man's Dick, some Crampballs, a couple of fine smelling Earth Potatoes and a few Flame Scalecaps which were new for the area.  No deaths were had, no case of the shits and all returned back to the starting point in fine fettle.  After the walk we made the short trip to The Oxhays, purchased a drink and sat on a bench watching some cricket.  I fancied getting my peepers on some dangling googlies or perhaps glimpsing someone partake of a full toss - alas all we saw was a good catch, some swift scoring and a Small Tortoiseshell Butterfly enjoying the warm weather.  Thanks to two kind gents I acquired pics of teamsheets and me and my good lady eventually picked our viewing point and watched the game unfold.  It was a quite lovely area on a splendid day to watch some Non-League action - but what on earth would the outcome be?

Kick-off came just before 3pm, I suspected the referee wanted to get home and watch the recent re-runs of CHIPS on the old goggle box, he seemed that sort of bloke or was it the way he strode onto the pitch - ooh heck.  The first action to take place on the glowing verdant baize came when the hosts knocked a long ball forward and the guests failed to take heed of the 'Don't Panic Mr Mainwaring' warning. The yellows seemed to be in a state of sixes and sevens and were in danger of being caught cold.  When in any peril though one can always rely on an old fashioned hoof into No Man's Land and that is just what one defender did - the brief hint of trouble passed.

From here we went straight down the opposite end, No 7 (Alex Ashby) was released when a delicious cross-ball fell at his feet.  There was a slight chance at glory but the defensive bod in close attendance just did enough.  The fast paced action continued, Ashton Athletic, despite being forced to make an early substitute, made most of the initial running with No 8 (Declan McLoughlin) having a pop that flew just over the horizontal.  The same squad came on again, some neat touch and move sequences were executed but the end shot was tame and straight at the keepers awaiting midriff.  Malpas were quick to counterpunch and a lovely long ball was flicked on and, despite the said nudger being clattered, play was allowed to continue with No 9 (Lee Parry) attempting a cheeky lob over the keeper.  The ball rose and fell, is was the right idea but the elevation was of such a level that the globe fell behind the framework - I was sure the first goal wasn't that far away.

Within seconds of the last incident the hosts had another break.  Some quick passing and a cross saw the ball sit and wait to be slammed home.  Only feet out from the goal-line the ball was somehow booted clear - phew!  The game galloped on with good pace, akin in fact to the old stallion known as King Nob the 3rd when ridden by that famed gay horse charmer Fester Riggot!  Malpas had a throw in nutted clear but the home No 3 (Sam Gresty) looked to rupture meshing with a side-footed attempt but once more the ball would not stay below the bar.  Again the Malpassian Mob came, Lee Parry was the apical component and showed good strength to weasel away a low pea-rolling shot - I think the keeper was relieved when it trickled on the outside of the upright.

The final stages of the first period were hectic, McLoughlin for the Athletic sent in a whistling cross that needed the merest touch to gain a goal but no contact was made and then No 10 (Harry Johnson) had a pop but again the target zone remained un-penetrated.  Two more chances came at either end, the host No 11 (Harry Cunningham) came closest with a good gather, dash and delivery but was denied by a defender who stuck to his guns and was in the right place at the right time.  Sour FA it remained - we sat on the grass and slurped Lemonade for the brief break and a nearby aged gent rolled some rough shag and sparked up his pipe.  I could make a foul joke here but since converting to Hinduism I will refrain - darn that pot-bellied Elephant God.

And so to the second period.  From the off the Yellows surged with a swift pass, a knock on and a cross.  As if by magic (or more likely good running) there was Ashby to sweep home and catch Malpas with their conkers cold and dangling.  No sooner had the net been rippled than Malpas were on the back peg again and scrambling around like floundered flat-fish on a beach full of drawing pins (nasty hey).  The local alarm bells were ringing, No 6 (Charlie Middlemore) for the guests gathered and darted and was vulgarly upended.  McLoughlin looked to double the lead but the bonus boot was quickly consigned to the bottom drawer labelled 'garbage'.  

It looked as though Ashton were now holding all the major cards until a duff pair of jacks were played and Malpas were allowed to trump matters by earning a cheap corner.  The globe was hit into the box, the mitter made contact but merely advanced the ball onto the awaiting home belfry of Cunningham. The net was there to be hit and this duly happened albeit on the wrong side of the post - now that was a chance.  From here the hosts worked back into the game, the stanchion was struck, several corners came and held good threat.  No 15 (Matty Hewitt) for Malpas was now on and looked to be a player with good ideas but Ashton were soon advancing again with the ever available Ashby receiving, negotiating his marker and letting fly a sweet curler that clattered against the upright and brought great sighs of relief from the resident fans.  To be fair, the lad deserved his second strike of the day, Malpas were riding their luck.

The next action saw the guests have two minor chances with Ashby nearly sneaking in again like a fart squeezed out between the crack of two clenched buttocks and then McLoughlin went on a dazzling run but punctuated matters with a shot that contained too much elevation.  The game hit the final stretch, McLoughlin for the traveller's found space and delivered a cross that was blocked but which came straight back to the same players feet.  A re-posting of the ball found Ashby and this looked the moment destined to sign, seal and deliver the result.  The effort that came boomed over the bar - what a shocker it was, in fact, if a Dickie Davis look-alike had done a streak and sported a 'Free Bobby Crush' tattoo I would have been less shocked.

The dying embers, another Malpas corner saw the keeper flapping.  The ball awaited contact to send it home, it remained untouched.  Hewitt had a dig soon after, off the mark was the outcome once again.  Next and a long ball found Lee Parry at the apex who duly did all the hard work and sent a low shot the gloved guardian was surely happy to see tumble shy of the mark.  The final melee saw much bluster, but very little in the way of a genuine chance until the hosts had one last fling that saw Hewitt provide a choice flick on with Lee Parry connecting and attempting to chip the keeper.  The shot was on target, alas for the trailing pack there was a defender on the line ready to clear and clear he did.  Soon after and that was that, I think Ashton Athletic just shaded this one and the Man of the Match goes to their tireless, always thinking and very hard working No 6 (Charlie Middlemore) for a veritable shift that kept matters moving and gave the opponents no time to settle - the nod of appreciation from this touchline enthusiast was well-deserved.

We pootled homeward happy with the visit to another Non-League ground.  Again fine amiable folk, a great setting and some hard fought football was thoroughly enjoyed - it goes without saying that we will return.

FINAL THOUGHT - What a lovely area to watch a game of footy and what a close encounter we witnessed with two teams trying to ensure their campaign starts with a great uplift.  This was Malpas' first game today and they just didn't have their finishing boots on and just lacked that final creativity to grab the win.  There were many positives though, the defenders worked hard and looked steady, the centre of midfield is a battling force and the attack plays with width and looks energy laden.  They will do OK throughout the campaign, all they need is to keep the options varied and the final third composed and well supported.  Ashton Athletic came on the back of an 8 - 3 win and did an old school '1 goal win', away from home, just like the championship winning Leeds United side under the managerial eye of Don Revie back in the 70's.  The difference today was Ashton Athletic refused to play things dirty and strove on to grab more goals which they were unfortunate not to do.  At the rear they look solid, in the middle of the pack they have high zeal and up front they put in a stint with the goal scorer noted for his back-tracking efforts when a breakaway needed attending to.  I haven't been up to watch Ashton Athletic for over 12 months, it is always a good trip out, the diary now has another date to scribble in - by heck, isn't it a wonderful situation to be in when there are so many great options.

PS - the aforementioned Pipe Smoker lit up again at the end of the game and let me have a pull on his oral puffer.  The tobacco was Old Hillman's Rectally Rolled and not the suggested Rough Shag - I do apologise to all who have been misled - cough, splutter, spit!

HERE WE GO AGAIN

5th September 2020 - Denton Town 1 v 3 Styal FC - The Cheshire League season was to get under way today and so, a trip to the favoured realms of Denton Town was a must.  During the stuttering pre-season we had visited this ground several times and were now like peephole perverts outside a strip club when Glamorous Glenda was about to take to the stage - gagging for some authentic top class action.  Unlike the aforementioned stripper I doubted if today's escapade would feature peeled carrots, nipple clamps and the old rectal rhubarb but one never knows - there be some strange people in this Non-League fiasco that is for sure.  Arriving at the ground at approximately 1pm myself and my good lady met up with STP Stu and another member of the sonic persuasion, aka Danny Marsh.  Tea was purchased, mandible wags had with the local board members before we took up our positions in the clement weather discussing Danny's recent stint in prison.  The verdict at the end of the conflab was that the blighter deserved his 6 month stretch and that selling anally-dipped Rice Krispies as sex stimulants is just not on.  Snap, crackle and flop - it just isn't the same is it and crumbs in the crevices is far from arousing.

And so, to the game, predictions were made, the battling units came out, would this be a thriller and who would get the oh so precious first win of the season, there is only one way to find out...read on!

A gentle start saw the hosts pass the ball well and try and gain some comfort whilst the opposing force had to earn their early crust and gallop around to quell any potential danger.  An early Denton corner came and was rifled into the box.  A leg was swung and if a connection would have been made I reckon the projected ball would have killed the keeper outright.  Alas no contact was made, the local morgue would have a slab free tonight that is for sure (much to the disgruntlement of the local necrophiliacs no doubt).  Denton progressed several times, Styal scampered and always did just enough to mop up any threat.  The first shot of any positivity came via the home team when No 7 (Prince Amoakwa) fed No 8 (Brad McLaughlin) whose low effort was partially blocked and all impetus was negated.  A corner the same way was almost immediate.  The ball entered the box, No 2 (Elvis Amoakwa) rose in free space but could only direct his cranial attempt wide of the mark - we were now in need of a strike.

As the clock ticked, the shadow of the sun-dial move onwards and the sand in the timer fell Styal grew into the game.  The guest's No 6 (Keith Blake) had a notable surge that cause much trouble but which was eventually snuffed out.  Suddenly the same team came again, a ball was played and No 11 (Joe Knight) provided a sweet nut on that No 9 (Jack Mather) collected.  The player at the apex was all of 25 yards out and wasted no time in delightfully lofting one over the keeper into the gaping onion bag.  0 - 1 it was, it was a fine opening goal albeit against the run of play - shit indeed happens.

The game restarted, a nearby Andy Warhol look-alike farted (so rumour had it) and Styal came on once more.  An attack saw the home keeper pickpocketed by the ever alert Knight.  The player with the play turned on a 2 bob bit and struck.  The globe went goalward but was nutted onto the bar by the defending E. Amoakwa - by heck, that was nearly a stunner and a real nail in the resident packs coffin.  2 angled hoofings followed, both lacking in danger.  Knight had a pop soon after when he took the ball down with delectable ease and pulled the trigger.  Fortunately for the Town their keeper was in the right place at the right time.  The half-time whistle beckoned, Knight for the leading team had one last pop, the gloved guardian collected and the pea-laden instrument was blown.

Tea and crisps for half-time, discussions were had as regards how the second half would go and the aforementioned pop artist doppelganger was asked for an autograph by the art-loving Mr Marsh.  I don't know what was said but a two-fingered gesture and a proclamation of 'Cambell's soup is shit' came from our signature hunting friend - a nasty business and surely one that will end in court.

Back to the game, the trailing 11 men attacked from the off, a ball went into the box with No 9 (Shaq Lewis) collecting, taking a touch and having a close in punt.  The keeper reacted well and provided a solid save.  Denton were now like the flaccid member of the Frankenstein monster after a quick prod in a plug socket - utterly reanimated.  They pushed again - No 14 (Dylan Keeley-Harris) was fed and had a shot that sizzled over.  Moments later a gratis dig saw a pass, a touch and a shit shot punctuate the promise - note made - more composure needed.

Perspiration and focus was now rising from the Denton pack but when in possession Styal hunted the ball in twos. akin in fact to those pesky Testicle Gnats of Botswana who are eager to pounce on any freshly available globe.  The game was increasing in impetus, the equaliser was sought and when the home No 11 (Harry Rowan) had a strong dash and delivered to the bonse of the awaiting A. Amoakwa I held my breath in anticipation of a ripple of the meshing.  Alas the contact between head and ball was weaker than the urine of the water guzzling lunatic Carl 'Hydro' Bladderwank and so the team in deficit had to duly rebuild.

Styal were the next team to cultivate an onslaught, No 12 (Akime Pinder) surge the flank, cut in and stayed in control.  The cross was deliberate and to the feet of Knight who produced a cool strike and doubled his team's lead - in truth, it was well deserved.

The ball was kicked off, Denton thrusted and won a bonus boot.  A delivery cum shot was the output, No 16 (Spencer Jenkinson) rose and felt the sphere removed a layer of skin from his belfry.  This touch was enough to direct the ball into the net - 1 - 2 - there was still life in this game and much uncertainty as to the end result.

Minutes later, Rowan for the hosts provided a choice flick on, Jenkinson was away and ready to bury.  The red corpuscles raced to the head, the eyes bulged and the ball was ballooned into the awaiting conifers - costly sir, costly.  A. Amoakwa had a similar chance seconds later with the same outcome - those striking boots were just not working today.

Time was now Dentons enemy, footballing laxative's were needed to speed up the overall movement.  Several more situations arose in which troubling shit could be produced and flung, it was not to be the case as Styal stood strong and dealt with any rear end problems.  Into the last ten minute we rolled, the guests were happy to make this a scrappy affair, Denton were lacking the end quality to cause any serious complications.  The last dog end of the contest came, one last blisterer was sent towards the visiting teams net, the keeper palmed and just about held.  We went straight down the other end, the home defence dillied and dallied and a mix up saw the ball go loose and a poached goal had.  I am still not sure who bagged it but they all count - 1 - 3 it was and that is how it stayed as mere seconds later the game was called to a halt.  Man of the Match today goes to Styal's No 11 (Joe Knight) for some constant battling, fine awareness, an overspill of enthusiastic energy and, of course, his goal.  Here's to a good season for ya fella.

We 4 pootlers pissed off home, Whittles Park had spewed up 4 goals but not the result we expected - it had however been the usual good day out - we shall return.

FINAL THOUGHT - So, we came, slurped tea, chatted with good folk and went away wondering how these two teams will fare throughout the full campaign.  Styal battle well, are a team who can absorb better than those knickers they sell on TV for women with problematic pelvic floors and can pounce quicker than a new born babe on a sugar-dipped nipple.  They work as a unit and have some solid individual players and, most importantly, exhibit good discipline and regimentation - a top 4 finish looks certain.  Denton Town have talked the talk, have had a good pre-season build up and looked, on paper, to be ready to take the league by storm.  Today, instead of sending forth howling gales and lightning bolts they offered up a few weak farts and the odd spark.  They are better than this, they just need to keep the flanks covered and to attack with more conviction.  A few final decisions ended in hopeful punts and some of the deliveries were of low quality - it was, one of those days and a quick brush down is needed before the next game.  Alas I will be leading a fungus walk next week and then squeezing in a game at Malpas, I will be watching Denton's twitter feed closely, watch this space.

FROM FA COMES THE FA

1st September 2020 - Irlam FC 2 v 1 Liversedge FC - And here we are again.  After a few pre-season friendlies and some good catching up I am back to scribbling reports, this being the first textual ramble after a long testing period that has seen the government make bigger fools of themselves than we already knew they were, many intellectually challenged morons come out of the closet and expose their limited thinking and ghastly ways and many jump on the 'follow the leader' bandwagon and socially gesture whilst all the while contributing bugger all.  Tis all negative shittery and best left behind.  The key for me is doing and putting back and striving to add something positive.  Be it with the family, with friends, with nature, noise and non-league (oh and other things too) - you gotta do your bit and try and to it decently - well here's hoping.  So, after a day at work I darted home, had a blast on the punchbag, got the missus chivvied and set out to ye olde Silver Street.  Upon arrival it was good to see a few beaming and eternally keen countenances with whom we nattered and it was equally gratifying to indulge in the much anticipated cuppa. A few familiar faces joined the fray, the mandibles wagged some more and touchline positions were taken.  God bless the veritable pigs in shit.  

Under now darkened skies the two competing units walked out onto the night-dampened grass, this was the first foray into the FA Cup competition that could see some feisty underdog take a big bite of the dangling bone that is laden with life-giving brass and the eternal blessing of success - ruddy good luck to all.  

So the globe began to rotate, the first unit to make any surge of note was the tangerine dream machine (well, something like that) with Liversedge using a slight height advantage up front and playing a few troublesome highballs.  An early corner was gained with No 5 (John Cyrus) allowed to run into free space and put his belfry on the ball.   The effort flew over the bar - the headmasters report was scrawled 'should do better'.  Soon after Irlam sprung the trap and cultivated their own effort when No 9 (Connor Martin) was threaded through with a chance to trouble the keeper.  The head filled with over-excited blood, the shank swung and the ball blazed wide of the mark - yes you guessed it - the headmaster was scribbling again 'ditto'.

The game now settled with the hosts trying to apply some persistent pressure and the guests biding their time and looking to burst through their opponent's busy rear guard.  Soon after the satsuma clad clan (well I am trying to be descriptive here) perspired focused juices that was finalised by a good nut on from No 9 (Joe Walton) which was snaffled up by the eager No 11 (Oliver Fearon).  The latter player got the head down, used good muscle to shake off his marker and release a solid shot.  Unfortunately for the striker the host No 1 (Lee White) was sharp and unshaken and made a rather concrete save.

The game dashed on, with each and every second the first goal gained in value.  The travellers pushed, a seemingly trouble-free throw-in nearly gave birth to a breakthrough when No 10 (Paul Walker) slipped in like a thief in the night, loaded up the peg and swung with great ardour.  Once more the man between the sticks earned his crust with another choice save - we remained bare of goals.  

Liversedge continued to prod and poke, akin in fact to a very aroused Jimmy Somerville with a newly acquired Elton John Blow-Up Doll (no wonder he had such a high-pitched voice).  Irlam buzzed around with great industry giving visions of flies around the veritable bovine rectum - eeh it were a grand sight lad.  

The last 10 minutes saw great hustle and bustle with Irlam flashing the flanks on a couple of occasions and providing some teasing crosses that just didn't get that killer touch.  The half eventually ended in a blur of industry with the conveyor belt of success not producing the goods - it had been a decent first 45 minutes nonetheless.

For the break we all stayed put except for my mate Gassy who had to dash and take a leak.  I think the aging process has slackened the old bladder muscles and the oriental eye no longer has the strength to retain the liquids of gold.  On the other hand, he may have a fetish for stealing Non-League toilet rolls in the hope of building his own tissue-based helicopter - who knows, one thing is for sure, I need to stop pondering the inane and get my mind back on the footy.  Talking of which...

Half the second began with an almost immediate free-kick.  The ball was played, touched on, spun loose and up stepped Martin to slam home and bring great delight to the resident ranks both on and off the pitch.  Liversedge responded at once, a cross saw the keeper reach and fumble, Cyrus was there to strike and bulge the night, the ball however had a desire to rise and over the bar it flew.  The pace of the game now increased, the action went back and forth, similar in fact to the time when Roscoe Tanner played Arthur Ashe at tennis using spring loaded rackets and a highly tense rubber ball - ooh me ruddy neck muscles.

Chances came at either end, No 7 (Matthew Argent-Barnes) for Irlam caused great groans to ascend as a fine shot looked to be bang on the mark but just remained a little to elevated for its own good.  The pattern of play was now set at level 50/50, circumstances were suggesting Irlam may be in for a long stint of defending - such are the hazards of being only 1 goal to the good in a cup tie.   Alas this was not to be the case as the Sedge Men came on, a lofted ball came, a cross and the hosts failed to clear the danger.  Fearon for the guests found the ball suddenly pinging off his crust and bulging the net - all square we were, now then, what next?

The blue-clad home 'erberts now began to find rejuvenated belief and after much labour won a free-kick.  The ball was played, No 8 (Oscar Campbell) for the Shack-attack gathered, let fly a sugar sweet dew warming sizzler that cut through the pack of battling players and found the bottom corner of the onion bag - what a pure beauty and what a way to gain the lead.  Soon after the game should have been signed, sealed and delivered when No 11 (Mwyia Malumo) pushed on, fed No 17 (Mark Derbyshire) who only had the keeper to beat.  The ball was released, the far post missed, I saw a man dressed in black, with a mortarboard on his head and a cane in his hand, jump up and down in fury and scribble on a well-used notepad - ooh heck, someone's in trouble.

The game now entered the final throes, Liversedge ground away and a high ball was thrown into the opposing box.  A knot of legs ensued, a clumsy tackle was the verdict and late drama was had as the referee pointed to the spot.  Fearon took responsibility, struck the ball firmly but alas, clattered the post with his effort.   The home fans roared, the visiting goalkeeper turned the air blue with savage expletives, it seemed this could be a costly miss and as it turned out, moments later, it proved to be the case.  Irlam had grabbed this one, their cup fortunes just keep on rolling and the Man of the match for me was the home No 11 (Mwyia Malumo) who worked his socks off, always offered himself up as a viable option and who made several cutting runs and executed numerous accurate passed to keep the opposing pack always in a state of unrest.

Farewells were had to all, it had been a grand gathering at a decent FA Cup game and the weather had been quite perfect - match No 1 of the season done - onwards.

FINAL THOUGHT - On the balance of play tonight I thought, and so did my comrades, that Liversedge edged it, with their team looking very well-balanced and set for a decent season ahead.  The front three look tidy and will cause untold problems for many a side during the coming campaign - all that is lacking is the final sharpness and a little extra communication.  The team though play some good football, get on with matters and are always keen to move forward, I reckon on this evidence alone me and the missus need to pay a visit to their ground and see them on their own turf - watch this space.  Silver Street is always a great place to visit, the fine welcoming folk we meet there, the general set up and the football is always of an appealing standard and for me, it is always a pleasure to support this pure Non-League set up.  Tonight the team may have been up against a decent footballing squad but displayed why they are never a team to be underestimated and how they can grab the end victory come what may.   The team work as a complete unit, chase every ball and when needed, hunt down the opposition in packs until danger is duly cleared.  The season will be starting soon, it will be a tough one, that is for sure, but Irlam will be providing many thrills and spills along the way and I am hoping to get a good fix of the excitement during my general roamings - let's ruddy have it.