Carl’s search for the biggest cork in England paid off handsomely.  Not only did he stop the flow from his enormous jacksie, he did the same to the yellows.  He also succeeded on the Fergie mind-games front slagging me off for leaving him with the allegedly crippled Andy Maelor, who will have to get a shirt with “9 Lazarus” on the back as he did his resurrection shuffle down the wing, laying on 3 goals. 

It was going well for the yellows with an early goal.  Then yours truly pulled a muscle in the leg leaving me incapable of doing wot I usually do best … handle the ball.  Mac got a goal-hanging hattrick. Whilst he couldn’t miss, Gary was like Salah v Everton - World class & shit at the same time.

Brian wasn’t world class.  He was the pick that would win me the match.  But I can’t blame them. It ultimately came down to crap goal-keeping & Carl & his team playing better, & despite Andy’s 2 goals he left the pitch offering to get me an appointment with a hip-knee-brain replacement surgeon. Well done Carl.