BEFC 1 - 3 Kanto Celts

If Simon Collier's bird had a face like a well smacked arse, it was because she had just spent an hour in the carpark watching Simon perfect his Frank Spencer parking technique.

The Kanto Celts had arrived early and were high spirited as only the Irish can be (the Irish economy is booming, the whole world has fallen in love with the cheeky Irish humour and traditional Irish pub. Just wait until news of this prosperity filters through and you have asylum-seekers and illegal immigrants by the boatfull steaming up the Liffey, we'll see how top'o'the-fuckin-mornin' you are then). BEFC were less punctual and the kick-off was delayed while Alister and Tomo wrestled in the changing room,until eventually Tomo allowed him to wear his orange sash under his shirt.

The first half was a well balanced affair and BEFC had their chances, with Al-boy playing well at the back, Woolly, having obviously shed a few pounds, very nifty in midfield,and the tireless Court up front. It was the Celts who would break the deadlock just before half time however, when BEFC failed to clear a throw into the box.

At half time the mood was upbeat, with several players pointing out that they had heard of some instances where the team that had scored the first goal were actually beaten 7-1.

With Tomo playing sweeper BEFC were being very creative at the back. In fact the BEFC defence appeared to be expressing themselves through the medium of dance when the Kanto Celts scored their second, early in the second half. A throw-in flicked on from the edge of the box caught BEFC completely by surprise. 2-0 to the Celts. The only teams that lose miserably after scoring the first goal it would seem, are us and San-Marino.

Bored of exposing to the full BEFC's weakness when it came to defending throw-ins into the box, the Celts tried the old long looping shot over the keepers head thing. Sure enough, as one attempt from the halfway line sailed toward the top corner, the Lobster, in accordance with "Tall Blokes with Short Arms Goalkeeping Manual", looked like he'd completely misjudged it. The panic-stricken stalk-eyed crustacean had jumped too early, so early in fact that on landing he realised he had plenty of time to jump again, this time a fluke of timing allowed him to parry the shot over the bar. Hoorah for the Lobster! Woolhouse responded to these heroics at one end with a mazy run and a superb shot that came back off the woodwork, psychologically, the good work of the Lobster had been undone. If "Skinny" Woolhouse couldn't score, then who could.

I have no recollection of the rest of the match as I was far too busy missing every ball that came in my direction and kicking the fuck out of the Celt's left winger (who didn't seem to mind). I would have happily continued to do this through to the final whistle had Angry-Al of all people, told me to calm down. Anyway, it was three nil by then. The big JC bagged one for the Embassy ten minutes from time, but it was too little too late.

Haley Joel Osment, 10, said that he believed, philosophically, the match worked on many levels and that anyone who had seen it would be able to take from it anything they wished. Precocious little twat.

Later that night, in a Kamakura bedsit with lighting suitably dimmed and Barry White in the background, after lengthy Rigsby-esque foreplay Collier is heard to say "It's no good.....I'm gonna have to back up a bit and try again."

Team: Bystedt, Sendo, Woolhouse, Collier, Flett, Cooper, Court, Jun, Kenji, Kerr, Bibby, Lynch, Williams.

Manager's Man of the Match: Woolhouse

Dick of the Day: Williams for running around for the last 15 minutes sans shinpads risking his dodgy ankle.