26/02/26- Goals to Hinkley (2)
12/03/26 – Goals to Brown, Crooks and Hinkley

A lost match report is a disgrace, a slur against the Mom, but more than that it is a slur against the brown and gold men that shed sweat on the court.

So it is with a heavy heart that I stand here in my fecal kitchen, a pile of liberally buttered pre-sliced white bread beside me and a broad knife heavily laden with warm, steaming arse candy. I have failed the nannas twice, not one but two match reports lost to the annals(pfft) of time and now I must prepare shit sandwiches for each and every one of you.

Producing a platter of Turd Baguettes is not something I do lightly, I have eaten thoughtfully; not to heavy not to light. These stool sanga’s are firm to the bite but not chewy, and not so loose as to produce damp bread, as Timmy Cahill used to cry – “You’re not making a soup!”

The first game was against Calcorp – tall, lean, hungry men and we kept them under 10 goals which is pretty much a draw – which is a win. Junior joined the Nannas and brought his special razzle-dazzle, setting the captain up directly in front of Goal after some fancy footwork. Giller did deliver a pinpoint header opportnity to the captain also, but this time to the extreme edge of the court requiring an acute angled ballooning/back of the head style header that bamboozled everyone.

The second game was a close loss (almost a draw- as good as a win) against some young jazz playing jizzers, with an ex Nanna taking the court in opposition colours. Los Elephantes squeaked past us but not before the walmartin and I did enough to gain joint MOM winners. Goals to myself, Cocky and Chassey – I remember the big man in goal making some tasteful splayed leg poses but not much more.

Now I must return to the task at hand, not something I take pleasure in. It has taken days to produce enough spreadable material and my freezer full of condom covered delights are now thawing in the autumnal sun.

I apologise