Kidderminster Harriers 1 Grimsby Town 4
30 Apr 2005, Coca Cola League 2
Or even the kids, someone in a strange suit was mesmerising all the local children away with a selection of confectionery. Oh, it's their mascot, not the pied piper.
Mmm, pie-o-phile heaven. What a truly scrumptious aroma, luring the unwary and unhealthy to the pie stall. Never in the field of football conflict has such food, glorious food been seen within the sight of bowed floodlights. Yet another reason to sigh at the thought of Rushden remaining within our orbit.
Town lined up in a 5:3:2 formation, as shown. The shape of things before my eyes, we've been taught to despise: dinosaurs in defence. From one million years BC came the future: the Whittleasaurus, the Craneopteryx and the Jonesaptydyl. Hear them roar, see them stomp, watch the opposition romp. Well, they are certainly designed to counter carpet bombing.
What a huge programme - 68 pages packed with pictures of glum Kidders. Didn't their manager get whacked by Bruce Willis in Die Hard III - you know, the bit in the lift. Nice to see they identified Michael Reddy, the one to watch, with a picture of Clive Mendonca. That'll confuse their centre backs, won't it. I don't mind them man-marking Clive of India today.
Rustie Lee. You have to laugh. No, you do. And if anyone votes for her, you have to laugh at them too. It's so apt that UKIP's colours are purple - it matches their faces. "Europe: sort it Sladesy!"
Do we have to start the game, it's such a lovely day?
Oh yeah, erm, they kicked off towards the munching Mariners. Straight out of play. On their left. Half way down the stairs, if you want to know the precise details.
Wake UP Town. A simple tap and spin saw Rawle sent free down their left. Crane and Whittle observed from afar, Rawle drivelled past Ramsden, hit the bye-line and hit the ball across the face of goal. Jones the Steam choo-chooed into the station, slicing a foot or so past the near post . Jones turned to his fellow mastodons and reminded them that they also serve who stand and stare. Crane headed the corner away. Just take it as read that every cross and corner was headed away by Big Tone. The Kiddypeople had a fascination with Crane's bonce.
Town were awarded a free kick on the left somewhere near the half way line. So far, so uninspiring; Jones waddled up to the area and waited. Bull walloped it towards the penalty area, Jones rose virtually unmarked about 15 or so yards out and headed firmly down towards the goalkeeper. Doolittle and Dalley? Is that an advert for a firm of solicitors or an instruction to their defence? Oh, it's in, it's a goal Mrs Walker, it's a goal. JONES had scored. Some of us even leapt three inches and said "Yes"; only some mind. A little chucklage was the order of the day. How long gone? About seven minutes GMT.
The Town back three were a spacious living area, ideal for larger families and those who like to entertain guests: plenty of scope for a games room. The high ceilings were a period feature, lovingly restored by the present owners; don't look too closely, you may see the cracks. Whittle was way off beam, hacking and thwacking down forwards. Crane was way out of sight: with his turquoise waistcoat and his haircut looks so bad. Vegetable Man where are you? Ah there you are. Boom-boom-boom those headers out baby. Are these magic onions on my burger?