My Weekend (by Les Cooper aged 28 and a bit)

On Saturday I got up. I got washed. I had a sausage and egg sandwich. As I made my way to the Embassy to meet the team bus, I spotted a lone jogger wearing an old Manchester United training top. The top had once had "MUFC" written on the back in big black furry letters, but at some stage the "C" had fallen off in the wash. Imagine how I chuckled to see a bloke with a big black hairy MUF on his back. On arrival at the Embassy I was informed that Woolhouse would not be coming to the match as he "couldn't be arsed". No doubt he would rather sit at home watching telly with his fucking goalkeepers gloves on.

I was met first by Jones who, looking slightly worse for wear, told me how angry he was with his wife Shirley, who, in front of a dozen or more Embassy colleagues, had strolled into the Embassy bar at 2am that morning and dragged him out by the arm. Like a naughty schoolboy using bravado to cover up his embarrassment at being told off, Jones was notably more vocal than normal.

At Oifuto the El Matador 7 were taken to a small room were they were repeatedly beaten and deprived of sleep for several days. Eventually, their spirit broken, they accepted our terms and allowed Leslie, Williams and Shalabi to play on their team. This gave us all the opportunity to kick lumps out of people we actually knew, which made a nice change. BEFC started well and El Matador hardly touched the ball for the first twenty minutes. This pressure, however, looked like it would never pay off. We passed it around well at the back, knocked it about skillfully in midfield, and fucked about with it up front until the opposition managed to clear it, at which point we would repeat the exercise. Just as it was getting boring, Lynch (actually it was Bystedt, goddammit! Ed.) put in a cross which was met perfectly by the inside of Watts's right knee and the ball scuttled into the corner to make it 1-0 at the break.

Professor Bacon summed up the first half performance when he said,"Actually it's an interesting exercise...... (loads of long words)........ in essence highlighting our need for improvement in the final third."

Jones offered a few words of encouragement to the strikeforce, "Hey Jules, have you got your boots on the wrong feet bud? You had a fucking shite first half!".

The crowd sang, "There's only one Chris Jooones, there's only one Chris Jooones, In the Embassy bar he's as quiet as a mouse, Shirley wears the trousers in his house."

The second half saw Lynch in goal for El Matador and Leslie up front for BEFC. Jones decided that he didn't want to swap ends at half time and so joined Leslie and Court in attack,(obviously he didn't need permission from the management for this tactical change because he is his own man, and can do what he wants when he wants until whatever time he sees fit). This left three at the back and with a changed El Matador side putting together some swift attacking moves, Crowley at last had something to do. Willis was, as ever, a portly vegetarian tower of strength at the back and no doubt Lynch thought him a suitable candidate for MOTM, (but let's face it he always does, its always Vern this and Vern that and "I think Vern had a pretty good game". Why don't you just bum him and have done with it Ron). Anyway, Court, having sorted out his footwear, managed to bang in a couple of short range efforts past Lynch. 3-0 to the Embassy is how it stayed, and although a little disappointing when most had been expecting to hammer them 12-1(lob), it wasn't a bad day out.

Team: Lynch, Bystedt, Williams, Jones, Cooper, Willis, Shalabi, Court, Watts, Bacon, Collier, Crowley, Leslie

MOTM goes to "Rasher" Bacon