Luton Town : Staring into the Abyss

L3mmonwolves · February 2, 2012

Caught up again mate, amazing as always, was without a comp for a couple of months (which completely derailed my Iceland career thread) so it was good to have this to read again! Actually just played Luton in FM '12, they beat my Stevenage side at Kenilworth 5-3, cracking match. And Keith Keane is still there. Question: did you pick him as a story antagonist just at random from the Luton players or was it on a FM mental stat?

ScottleeSV · February 4, 2012

Thanks for the nice comments guys.

The Keane thing was unintended. He just gradually became who he is after a while had passed. It was unplanned.

--------

17/11/10 - The masterstroke

Old Trafford’s electronic scoreboard showed there were two minutes to go. The score was one-one. Man United though were pouring forwards looking for a winner. What’s more; they looked like getting it too.

‘Hmm’ I thought, glancing up and down my subs bench. ‘I wonder’.

In my opinion, Vidic in Man United’s centre half position was carrying a slight niggle from an earlier challenge by Nicholls. If I could stretch Vidic somehow, maybe send someone on with a bit of pace.. If nothing else it might force United back a little deeper. Worth a shot surely?

Buckley! That’s who I’d send on.

“Get your tracksuit off, Will!” I somehow communicated over the top of seventy five thousand screaming mancs. “You’re going on”.

“Hey” said Brian. “Are you sure about this?”

“Never been surer. You’ve just got to believe, Brian! Believe!"

“Oh, okay”.

A couple of minutes later and the substitution was made. By this point we were into the first of two added minutes. United were still bombing forwards towards The Stretford End with all their worth. Indeed for a while it didn’t look at first like Buckley was even going to get a touch.

And then it happened. Tony James took the ball off Rooney like a young Bobby Moore. He looked up, saw the run of Buckley, and launched an almighty through ball over the halfway line. The only problem was it looked like Vidic was going to get there first.

But he didn’t! Just as I’d suspected, Vidic was trying to see out the game carrying a niggle. The fresher legged Buckley nipped in front of him and stole the ball for himself. He was through on the goalkeeper here! Could he score?!

Yes he could! What a finish! Manchester United one, Luton Town TWO! Wowzer! WOW-ZER!

Me and Brian danced around hugging and back-slapping. In fact the whole away bench pretty much indulged in one big stand-up pile-on, soon to be joined by Buckley as he ran by close to us waving his shirt above his head. Over inside the away section, thousands of travelling Luton fans were going absolutely bananas. The rest of Old Trafford was beginning to leave early.

There wasn’t any time left for Man United to even think about mounting a search for an equalizer. The ref blew for time and I was left to reflect on the greatest win of my career. We were into Round Four! Calmly and politely, I walked over to Sir Alex Ferguson to shake his hand.

“Good game, Sir Alex”.

“Aye, good game. You really got me with that Buckley substitution! Didn’t see that one coming. That was a wee stroke of genius, laddie”.

“Aw not really. Just seemed the obvious thing to do really. Any manager worth his salt would have done exactly the same thing”.

“Well I’m not so sure. Anyway, why don’t you come up to the director’s lounge in a bit? I’ve got a nice bottle of red wine that needs drinking”.

“Oh. Okay!”

Suffice to say as soon my post-match team-talk was all done and dusted, I went straight up. Old Trafford’s quite a complicated place to move around in so I had to ask directions from a tea boy.

The director’s lounge was about the size of four living rooms. The carpet was cream coloured except for the huge red imprint of the Manchester United club emblem slap bang in the middle. Fergie aside, who was sat over at a table in the corner with the wine bottle and glasses already ready, there were only three other people present. With their black Manchester United suit jackets on, they looked like directors to me.

“Have a seat, laddie” said Fergie meanwhile.

“Thanks, Sir Alex”.

“No problem. Let me pour you a glass”.

So he did, and for a while we casually shot the breeze about world football. Turned out we had a lot in common.

Eventually though, Fergie got to the crux of why he’d invited me up here. I hadn’t even been expecting there to be a crux, to be honest.

“I want you to take over as Man United boss when I retire” he informed me. “Your performance today convinced me that you’re the one”.

“Really?! Are you sure?! Oh come on! You’ve got years left in you yet!”

“I’m older than I look, laddie. And truth is I’ve been looking for my successor for quite some time. You though are one of the most exciting young managers I’ve seen in a long time. You’re the one!”

Before I could say anything else back, a banging noise sounded out from the glass doors you have to walk through to get into the lounge. It was Steve! What was he doing here?

Aided by one of the directors letting him in to see what he wanted, Steve brushed past him and strode straight up to where me and Sir Alex were sat.

“What’s going on, Sir Alex?!” he boomed. “I thought you said I was the most exciting young manager you’d seen in a long while?! What the hell are you giving him the job for?!”

Sir Alex didn’t flinch at this. He merely gestured towards two nearby guards. They both seemed to have just appeared out of thin air.

“Remove this man from my command centre” Sir Alex instructed.

The two guards grabbed Steve on either side, and despite his thrashing about, escorted him violently from the room.

“So what’s it to be, laddie?” Sir Alex asked, turning his head back towards me.

“The answers’s yes!”

“Fantastic”.

We touched glasses as a toast. Then we smiled at each other.

--------

Then I woke up.

It was dark in the room. Completely dark. It was dark outside too. The bedside clock showed that it wasn’t even five yet. Faintly I could hear Chantelle re-adjust her sleeping position in response to my own movement.

‘It was all a dream?’

Well that’s no good!

Panpardus · February 4, 2012

Still loving the story Scottlee

One of the best I have read on this forum.

ScottleeSV · February 5, 2012

Thanks, pan

--------

20/03/04 - One concession please

(‘No, you don’t understand. The players pulling the scam have got mates working the actual turnstiles. They’re in on it together. As for the amounts not matching, well, they do match. That’s the thing. What they’re doing is accepting money from people who pay adult prices and writing them down as concessions. And, probably, other variations on the theme’)

The more I thought about it over the days that followed, the more I agreed with Briony; if someone was ripping the club and its supporters off, they needed bringing to justice. And if the only person in a position to do that was me, so be it.

Only trouble was I had no idea what course of action to take. Confrontation of the accused would only bring lies, likewise going straight to a higher authority.

For a while I did nothing. A couple of away games passed in the meantime. Then a home game. It got to the point where I almost stopped thinking about it. Briony certainly never mentioned it again after that first time. Not that I was seeing her much.

Then at the home game with Scarborough on March 20^st I found myself thinking about it just as I was changing into my kit. I think it was because I overheard one of my playing colleagues tell another colleague that he hoped his new girlfriend found the correct turnstile to go through.

‘Turnstiles’.

I glanced at my watch (which I hadn’t yet taken off). Twenty to three. Probably peak time for supporters entering the ground.

Acting instinctively – but without an actual plan – I got up from the dressing room bench and headed for the door. Nobody batted an eyelid as I walked out. Brass wasn’t due to give his team talk for at least another five to ten minutes yet.

The dressing rooms at The Shay are in a little raised hut in the corner of the ground between The South Stand and The Skircoat Stand. To get to the nearest turnstiles from here, you have to walk around the back of The South Stand to the adjacent corner from where the hut is. Because it’s a behind-the-goal-stand, in real time this takes no more than thirty seconds.

There are four paying turnstiles in this corner, and around the other side of the ground are two more. If a person or persons was cheating the gate receipts, how many people were we talking about? One? Two? Three? All six? No. Couldn’t be all six. Not that high a ratio of people in the same job could be corrupt. Realistically it had to be one or two at most, in my opinion.

But was I even in the right part of the ground? And how was I even going to know if I was, short of turn myself invisible and then peek right over the shoulder of each turnstile operator to see if they were stealing?

I got part of my answer when I spotted Tinny sat behind the closest turnstile to the car park. No I haven’t spelt that wrong. I didn’t mean to type Timmy. The guy’s name actually is Tinny. Well, a nickname. He apparently got it because when he was a teenager he used to constantly be seen wandering Halifax’s high streets carrying a tin of beer.

Tinny was unofficially the Halifax squad’s chief hanger on. He grew up with Crusher as his best friend. They went to the same school together, played football together, dossed about together, signed on the dole together etc and etc. Only difference was this; Crusher proved moderately useful at football. Thus whilst Crusher went to work becoming darling of The Shay, Tinny was left to err sign on the dole some more, and when he wasn’t doing that, use his friendship with Crusher to infiltrate the Halifax Town circles.

For instance, if there was ever a squad night out, absolutely guaranteed Tinny would be there when you turned up. If there was an awards do, he’d get in at one of the top tables. Away game to a place like Weymouth? Tinny would somehow blag a seat on the team coach. Then he’d probably crash on Crusher’s floor in the squad hotel. You’d even see the guy pop up in the changing rooms at The Shay sometimes, tinny in his hand and cracking a joke with a couple of the players.

He was a tool too. Complete tool. That’s the worst part.

So far as I remember though, this was the first time I’d been aware he was volunteering on the turnstiles. What’s more; I knew as soon as I saw him doing it he had to be one of the guys doing the stealing, if not THE sole guy doing the stealing. Tinny wasn't the type to break his back for the good of the local community.

For a few seconds I just leaned on the nearest fence about twenty yards away and watched him work. The stiles were pretty busy by this point. Lots of Halifax fans pouring through the barrier for their weekly dose of pain. Tinny was working hard. He looked like it was a strain for him. I reckoned the odds of him having a tinny in there with him plonked down next to the cash register were pretty low.

But was he stealing? Impossible to tell.

At least until Tinny did what he did next.

For the briefest of moments he had no-one to deal with. It was then he glanced to his right through the cut-out square in the turnstile door and saw yours truly. The look of shock on his face was a dead giveaway that he was up to no good. Absolute dead giveaway.

“Hey, what the f__k are you doing standing there?” he called out angrily.

“Just out for a stroll before the game” I replied.

Tinny made to say something else but was distracted by the attentions of another new face at the barrier. It was then I walked away back to the changing room.

‘Now what?’ I thought.

ScottleeSV · February 6, 2012

20/11/10 - Slow down swimmers!

Only six days now until I become a married man.

First though there was the small matter of Exeter at home – the final game before the big day. I got to the ground earlier than usual because I wanted to have a quick chat with Brian about something.

This being an hour before kick-off, I was expecting a dressing room devoid of any players. What I got instead was Richie Byrne, Scott Spencer, and Will Buckley all playing cards together.

“Hey, boss”.

“Afternoon there, boss!”

“What are you three doing in so early? Bit early in the day for poker isn’t it?”

“We’re not playing poker”.

Stepping further into the room, I craned my neck downwards and peered at the cards. Turned out they weren’t even playing cards. They were the same size as playing cards but instead of jacks, kings, spades, and all the rest of it, these ones had outlandish Dungeons and Dragons style pictures on them. Dungeons and Dragons is the best comparison I can think of. Maybe Final Fantasy would be a better one?

From where I was standing I could only see Spencer’s ‘hand’, but it was an odd bunch of cards he had in his palm to say the least. One showed a picture of a wizard carrying a huge staff. Another was a close-up shot of a peculiar metal slingshot thing. Another showed three goblin figures peering out from behind a tree. Another showed a load of beakers filled with odd-coloured liquids. Directly above the liquids were some statistics and what looked like the name of a magic spell.

“What in Christ’s name is this you’re playing?” I asked.

“It’s called Magic Temple” Buckley explained. “It’s the new role playing card game doing the rounds. It’s really popular. Have you never tried it?”

“No. And have you guys suddenly forgotten that you’re footballers? Footballers are meant to read The Sun before a match and spend twenty minutes looking at themselves in the mirror, not sit playing role playing games”.

Shrugs of the shoulders all round. I sensed they were taking this game of theirs really seriously and objected (privately) to having the p!ss taken out of them. Oh well. I suppose not all footballers can live up to the stereotype.

'And let's face it, there's no harm in that!'

Walking back out of the room, I bumped into the man I'd been looking for coming the other way.

“Hey” he said.

“Hey” I replied. “Listen, I need a word with you if that’s okay”.

“Okay. Sure”.

“No” I said, stopping him by the arm as he tried to walk past me. “Some of the lads are here early today playing some sort of stupid card game. Out here’s fine, I guess”.

“Okay. What’s up?”

Glancing up and down the tunnel area to make sure no-one else was coming, I put one foot back against the wall and sighed. The topic of conversation I wanted to raise was slightly embarrassing, you see.

“Brian, when you had your kids – “

I paused.

Brian waited patiently for me to continue.

“When you had your kids, how long did it – “

I paused again.

“Come on!” Brian spouted. “Out with it”.

“Okay. Okay! When you had your kids, how long did it take to – you know – make them?”

“Make them?!”

“Yeah. Make them. Produce them. Whatever".

For a moment my assistant looked at me dumbfounded. Then a big wide grin slowly began to expand and stretch out in different directions on his face, a bit like an oil spill heading for a beach.

“You’re trying for a baby!” he exclaimed.

“Shush! Don’t say it so loud!”

“Sorry”.

“And yeah, as of a month or so ago, yes we are. But what I want to know is, how long does it take?”

“I take it you’re desperate to get pregnant really quickly then?”

“Actually, quite the opposite. SHE’S desperate to get pregnant. Me, I’m kind of keen for it to – well – take a while. You see, I’m all up for having a family and everything and being a dad to my own kid. But – well – I kind of wouldn’t mind enjoying married life for a couple of years first, you know. Do you know what I mean by that? So that’s why I’m asking how long you think this sort of thing takes. I want to know how long I’ve got left!”

This time Brian flexed his cheeks before responding. I could tell he was having to delve deep into the memory banks for this one.

“Well, when we had our first, it took two years for Alice to get pregnant”.

“Two years?! Christ, how often were you doing it?! Once a month?”

“Oi! It’s not like it is in the soaps, you know! You can’t just have a one night stand and Bob’s your uncle. In real life it takes a lot longer. In fact I think Alice told me once it takes a couple having regular – intercourse – about eighteen months on average”.

“Really?! Hey that’s really good! For me anyway”.

“Yep. And then you’ve got the nine months of actual pregnancy after that. So realistically, you could still be looking at twenty seven months before you’re having to change nappies. That’s two and a half years. Plenty of time to enjoy a bit of married life, as you put it".

“Hell yeah!"

Just then Nicholls and Bowditch came in from the office corridor. Hastily Brian and I changed the subject.

“So yeah” I said. “I reckon four-four-two is definitely the way to go against these pesky Grecians”.

“Yeah. Four-four-two. Good idea”.

Nicholls and Bowditch both gave us an inquisitive look and then disappeared inside the changing rooms. Surely they too hadn’t turned up early to play Magic Temple?

“Anyway, thanks. I feel a bit better now. I had no idea the average time was that long”.

“Yeah well don’t go getting too excited! It just depends, doesn’t it? Eighteen months is just the average. For you it could turn out to be five days or five years. Or never at all! You just never know with these things. I guess the question you have to ask yourself, punk, is do you feel lucky?”

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see”.

“Indeed”.

Certainly food for thought there.

Anyway, eighteen months was definitely a better ‘average’ than I’d been expecting (assuming it was true), so when I left at that point to go to the loo, it was definitely in a good mood.

--------

Next - Luton v Exeter (League Two)

salkster2102 · February 7, 2012

Footballers are meant to read The Sun before a match

Or burn it

ScottleeSV · February 7, 2012

20/11/10, League Match 16

Luton Town v Exeter City

GK – Lars Stubhaug (19 apps, 0 goals)

DL – Aaron Ides (debut)

DR – Claude Gnakpa (117 apps, 3 goals)

DC – Tony James (73 apps, 4 goals)

DC – Dorian Moore (12 apps, 0 goals)

DMC – Kevin Nicholls (89 apps, 23 goals)

MC – Keith Keane (108 apps, 13 goals)

ML – Glenn Poole (16 apps, 3 goals)

MR – Michael Taylor (54 apps, 5 goals)

FC – Dean Bowditch (45 apps, 20 goals)

FC – Edgar Snowden (1 app, 0 goals)

After the two away wins at Chesterfield and Rotherham, we now had a fantastic chance to get right back in the promotion picture with a home game. Only trouble was; said home game was against Exeter City, the league leaders. This was going to be hard.

A win for the Grecians would take them nine points ahead of us. It would also probably drop us down to around 9^th or 10^th. On the other hand, a home win would guarantee to put us within three points of the summit. An unbelievable notion really when you consider that crap run we went on.

I had personal reasons for wanting the win too. This was my last game as an unmarried man. What a great feeling it would be if I go off for my wedding sabbatical on the back of a three game winning streak!

When we played Exeter two years ago we lost 3-1 at St James Park on a snowy Boxing Day before then getting revenge at Kenilworth Road later in the season. Despite the 1-0 success in that game however, we still got relegated and have not faced Exeter ever since. Until now.

Team-wise, we were mostly at full strength. Despite not scoring on his debut against Cambridge, Edgar Snowden would continue up front because of some very good performances in training. Aaron Ides came in for Richie Byrne at left back due to the latter having picked up a calf strain.

Unfortunately we started a little rusty. Exeter are a class up from Cambridge and in the opening exchanges made us pay for any number of careless errors on the ball. Most crucially, in the 8^th minute, Moore was pressured into a poor pass straight to Panther.

From here, the Grecians would go on to score a goal not unlike Shearer’s against Holland at Euro 96. In one fluid movement, Panther danced towards the area before laying the ball square for Harley. As James then slipped, having been wrong-footed by the direction of the pass, Harley swept the ball on for Pope with his first touch. Pope then hammered a first time shot (on the slightest of diagonals) above the reach of Stubhaug and into the net. Nil-one

Because they were top of the league, the Exeter fans had predictably travelled in numbers and it was they who went ballistic at this early development in their favour. Still, there was a long way to go.

A crucial piece of play then occurred in the 13^th minute. With the home side still struggling to make anything happen, Pope once again put the ball in the net at about the fourth time of asking after some truly frantic defending – or lack of it – in the penalty area. Linesman’s flag would save us on this occasion. It would prove to be a pivotal moment in the first half.

We didn’t instantly get better after that but we did get better. Gradually. It probably happened over the course of five or six minutes without most folk actually realising it.

In the 22nd minute Nicholls should have levelled but angled his half volley high and straight in the direction of goalkeeper Jones’ head. Jones just avoided having his head taken off with some swift reflexes, reaching up with his right hand and helping the ball over the bar. He caught the resulting corner too. Maybe he’s one of the key reasons Exeter have had such a solid start to the season?

Whether he is or he isn’t, it wasn’t too long before he was finally picking the ball out of the net. With ever increasing confidence, Luton players were buzzing in and around the penalty area trying to find that killer ball to one of the forwards. Keane was the man who eventually found it, curling a little ten yard diagonal pass into Bowditch on the edge of the area. Bowditch took one touch before burying it low and into the bottom left hand corner. Terrific finish!

The game was nicely poised now. Exeter might have had a bunch of players less used to losing on display, but we had the home advantage. We also had the momentum.

Spurred on by the quality of the equalizer, we went on to finish the half the strongest. Exeter still threw in the occasional lightning thrust down at the other end, but it was usually followed by two or more half chances for Luton.

By the time the 40^th minute rolled around, by my reckoning we’d done more than enough to warrant a half time lead. And evidently God agreed with me.

Of all the people I might have bet on to be the first to give me a wedding gift, Paul Jones of Exeter City probably wouldn’t have been one of them. Still, when Nicholls’ surprisingly tame free kick dipped over the Exeter wall and straight into Jones’ arms in the 41st minute, out it popped to the side of him and there was Snowden to hammer home the loose ball. Two-one. Thanks, Jones! Much appreciated!

tenthreeleader · February 8, 2012

By the way, congratulations on reaching the 1,000 post/comment mark. Again, not many get there. Well done.

miguel_scp · February 8, 2012

Endless hours reading! An excellent work! Now what am I supposed to do in my free time?

ScottleeSV · February 8, 2012

Thanks for the support, guys

--------

“They’re definitely going to come at you second half so concentrate. Focus! Be careful! That’s all I’ve got to – Buckley, put those cards away! – as I was saying, that’s all I’ve got to say so good luck. And God speed!”

The two teams, Luton in orange and Exeter in white, ran back out to Dance the night away by The Mavericks. Then we got back underway.

I was quickly proven right about Exeter coming at us. Their passing was much more co-ordinated early in the second period, as if the manager had given them a good firm kick up the bollocks at half time. Most of the first five minutes was spent entirely in our half.

First notable opportunity though didn’t come until just after that, in the 51^st minute. Harley rounded off a very lengthy (and nervy) build-up by crossing for Pope in the box. Pope always looked like getting above the clumsy-footed Moore and he did. The bullet header that followed really should have burst the net. Enter Stubhaug, whose unbelievable point blank save literally had people off their seat to applaud it. Save of the season.

Snowden was crowded out on the edge of the D just as he was about to shoot not long after that, but I wasn’t going to let it fool me that all was well out there. Exeter had firmly established territorial advantage come the hour mark and a ding-dong battle for the rest of the match looked assured.

So it was inevitable then I dipped into my substitutions sooner rather than later. On went Niven for Keane and Spencer for Snowden. The Niven switch was because I fancied seeing this game out with two defensive midfielders rather than one. Keane predictably didn’t look too impressed as he came off, but he couldn’t kick any water bottles because I’d made sure to remove them all from the technical area prior to the linesman putting the boards up.

Another Exeter chance wasn’t long in coming. Stockley shoulder-barged James out of the way on the edge of the area and attempted to curl a low one past Stubhaug. The in-form keeper once again saved, this time palming it around for a corner. The Luton fans, although appreciative of Stubhaug, were suddenly very critical at how much under the cosh we were. Lots of ‘advice’ was coming from the stands behind me. I felt like turning around and telling them all to hush up. But obviously I didn’t.

Respite came in the 66^th minute when Taylor went over Obersteller’s leg to win an attacking free kick. Even better, the ref was unhappy with something when Nicholls swung it in meaning the whole thing had to be retaken. Precious seconds were then wasted as the ball had to be returned all the way across the pitch.

That might have eventually come to nothing but Taylor’s next forwards excursion didn’t. His spellbinding Ricky Villa style dribble into the area was just what the doctor ordered. Eventually he ended up at the by-line and pulled it back to the middle. Recipient Spencer controlled, swivelled, and shot. He probably would have burst the net too had he not hit the nearest defender on the leg. Unlucky!

In the 72^nd minute Harley thought he was away down the wing again only for newcomer Ides to take him out with a perfectly timed crunching tackle. The ball rocketed off his studs into the advertising hoardings and Harley went flying. No free kick though. And rightly so.

“You know that saying - Beware the ides of March?” Brian asked.

“Vaguely. Maybe. Why?”

“I just thought the fans could maybe make a chant out of it for Aaron Ides or something. Like err Beware the Ides of Aaron. Something like that”.

“Genius” I said sarcastically. “Do you want to go get those water bottles back, make yourself useful?”

“Okay”.

On the whole, I have to say the 70-80 minute period was reasonably good. I wouldn’t say we turned the tide quite like we did in the first half, but we certainly began to match Exeter more on a blow for blow basis.

Of course, it all changed again once the final stages began to play themselves out. I’ve seen the dynamic a thousand times before. It’s especially predictable when the supposedly superior side is the one doing the chasing. The side in the lead begins to drop deep and the chasing side then begins to see more of the ball. Happens every time.

As the amount of missed half chances quickly began to rack up for the visitors, I turned my attentions to the bench. I had one more sub to make. Gill for Nicholls was the way to go. The two defensive midfielder thing hadn’t quite paid dividends. Making this change would put things back the way they were before.

Have you glanced down at the final score yet? Whoever you are reading this, I bet you do it every time long before I reach the end myself! Anyway, yes we did hold on. Was it pretty? No. Was it ugly? Well, it wasn't as bad as I might have thought. Exeter’s best late chance fell to substitute Oli, but his weakly hit shot from fourteen yards proved to be one of Stubhaug’s easier saves.

Good win this. We now had three in a row and I was free to turn my attentions to the wedding.

--------

FULL TIME (att - 6962)

Luton Town 2 (Bowditch 25, Snowden 41)

Exeter City 1 (Pope 8)

--------

(other results)

Accrington Stanley 1-1 Yeovil

Barnet 0-0 Cheltenham

Bournemouth 2-0 Lincoln

Brentford 0-1 Walsall

Chester 2-3 Oldham

Darlington 3-2 Aldershot

Grays 2-1 Torquay

Hereford 1-3 Wycombe

Notts County 1-1 Rotherham

Rochdale 1-0 Chesterfield

Shrewsbury 0-2 Grimsby

--------

(top of table)

1 - Exeter (30)

2 - Darlington (28)

3 - Yeovil (28)

--------

4 - Rochdale (28)

5 - Luton (27)

6 - Lincoln (27)

7 - Grimsby (26)

--------

8 - Shrewsbury (26)

9 - Barnet (26)

10 - Notts County (26)

alucasa · February 10, 2012

Welcome to the married life. It's also called living hell by some.

ScottleeSV · February 11, 2012

20/11/10 - The stag do (part 1)

After the match I quickly went home and got ready for the stag do. I passed Chantelle on the stairs going the other way. Turned out she’d been doing her preparations (for the hen do) all afternoon, and was now in a position to go out and meet her mates with the clock not even having reached 6pm.

The previous night we’d sat and agreed which pubs and clubs we were going to so our respective parties wouldn’t clash.

It was about an hour further on when I got to the town centre. I was meeting a distinguished quintet of Brian, Darren, Steve, Cyril, and Lee. I’d invited Albie too but turns out the guy doesn’t like clubbing. I was glad when I found that out though, to be honest. If Albie had been coming I probably would have been worried he’d turn up in one his Star Trek uniforms.

The other absentee from those given an invitation was Eugene. I’d invited him to be polite but it turned out he was the one babysitting Luke tonight and I just hadn’t been in the loop. Oh well. No great loss.

All went swimmingly until the second bar of the night when Steve offered to buy a round. Instead of just come back with the exact drinks people had ordered, he came with a tray full of shorts too. He’d bought so many drinks in the one go he needed four trips between the bar and our table just to carry them all over.

“What the hell’s this?” I enquired.

“Vodka shots. Two each. Except for you. You get three”.

“Nice one!” said Darren, reaching for the nearest beaker.

“I think I’ll pass” I said, holding my hand up like a stop sign. “I haven’t drunk these things since I was at university, and I don’t intend to start again now”.

“I’m with you on that one. Count me out too” – Brian.

Cyril and Lee were more adventurous, although it was patently obvious they’d never had one before. The pair of them picked up their first as if it was a piece of strange alien rock on a faraway planetary sphere.

“Oh come on!” Steve protested, parking his arse back down on his chair. “It’s your stag do! It’s your last night of freedom! You’re supposed to let your shoulders down a bit!”

“Yeah but I’m not really a shots kind of guy. If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather just – “

“Oh get them down you!” Steve insisted, pushing the tray further towards me. “I spent a small fortune on those! And just so you know, I didn’t come all the way up here just to babysit some boring old men. I came for a bloody stag party!”

Sighing, I took a sip of my lager and looked down at the beakers.

After then engaging in further private consideration, I had a change of heart. Steve was right. It WAS my stag do. No harm in being a bit wilder than normal. Just this once.

‘And let’s face it, it’s not as if Chantelle’s going to be holding back around about now. I bet she’s smashed already!’

Without announcing I was going to do it, I picked up the closest shot and downed it in one.

“Yeah!” Steve shouted, slapping his hands together in delight.

“Way to go, boss!” – Darren.

Brian shook his hand, albeit with a grin. He was one man who definitely wasn’t going to have his mind changed. Cyril and Lee meanwhile were now clutching empty beakers themselves and bearing grimaces.

“You get to have Brian’s too seeing as he’s not having any” Steve informed me.

“Oh right. Wonderful news”.

--------

By the time midnight rolled around we were all having a great time. We were drinking, dancing (occasionally), laughing, drinking some more, and just generally enjoying the night to the maximum. I did feel extremely tipsy though. Definitely more tipsy than normal.

“Jesus, I am one exhausted human being” I announced, collapsing in a chair by the side of the dance floor.

God knows what club we were in. I could deduce it wasn’t Clube Barcelona. Apart from that; God knows.

“What did you think of the FA Cup Draw” Lee asked, himself looking a little weary around the eyes.

“Yeah n-not bad” I stammered awkwardly. “Cheltenham. Should beat them. Well, we’ll have a good chance anyway. Fellow League Two side. Can’t argue with that. So long as we avoided the League One clubs I wasn’t really bothered who we got”.

“Shame it’s away though” Brian pointed out.

“True. We’ve still got a good chance though”.

Just then Steve returned from the bar with another tray full of drinks – of all shapes and sizes.

“Here we are then, lads! Get these down you”.

“Yee-haw!" I exclaimed. "Don't mind if I do!"

--------

By two in the morning (it could have been three. Or four. I can’t remember), there was only me, Brian, and Steve left as we finally walked away from the nightclub. Cyril and Lee had dropped out not long after twelve because they’d arranged a late night showing of Star Trek 4 : The Voyage Home with Albie. Darren meanwhile had pulled some redhead and taken her back to his pad. Probably not to watch Star Trek 4 : The Voyage Home.

“I love you, Steve” I said, arm around his shoulder as I struggled to stay on my feet.

“Oh heaven help us” Brian muttered under his breath.

“No seriously! This guy is awesome. I love him. And I tell you what; I’ve had a great stag do. Couldn’t have hoped for better”.

“Well it ain’t over yet” Steve replied with a grin, whipping a strange-looking homemade map out of his jacket pocket.

“What do you mean it’s not over?” Brian blurted out “I thought we were going home now? I'm shattered".

“Nope. Not going home just yet. And here, hold James up whilst I look at this under the streetlight”.

It wasn’t pretty but Brian did as he was told, accepting my body weight with one big heave ho. I was a real state. I admit it. I had dribble coming off my chin right now and everything.

“This way” Steve eventually announced, guiding us down an alleyway.

“Where are we going?” – Brian.

“To one last place before we go home. I found it on the internet before I set off for Luton this afternoon. I copied a map down and everything. Anyway, take my word for it; this will be just the place to round our night off in”.

“Whatever”.

In silence we trudged on for a few more minutes. Then, finally, we stopped. I couldn’t see where we’d stopped. I was too busy looking down at the pavement trying to make sure I wasn’t going to be sick.

“In there?!” Brian exclaimed to the left of me. “You can’t be serious”.

“Damn right I’m serious. Like I said before; this is a stag do. Not some old man’s night at the liberal club. Come on, it’s freezing out here. Let’s get him inside”.

“No - look – I don’t know – I’ve never really - ”

“Okay, you stay out here in the cold and call a cab. Me and James will go in on our own”.

“No wait! Okay I’ll come in. But only for a little while! Then I’m calling a cab and taking him home”.

“Fine. You do that”.

An agreement in place, the pair of them then spent the next couple of minutes trying to get me to stand up straight so I’d have a chance of getting past the bouncers. Then we crossed the road towards the doors.

God knows where it was Steve had brought us.

Although, having said that, and even though my eyes felt very blurry around about now, I reckoned that if I squinted hard enough, I could just about make out the word Heavenly above the door.

L3mmonwolves · February 13, 2012

Oh no... *gleefully awaits part 2

ScottleeSV · February 13, 2012

20/11/10 - The stag do (part 2)

My memory of getting past the doorman is one of the hazier parts. Cash was exchanged (mainly from Steve’s wallet) and in we went, escorted to our own private table by some kind of hostess. My memory of her is hazy too. I can remember shoulder-length hair, big tits, and that’s about it.

In fact the whole place was pretty much swarming with breasts. Breasts, legs, and the eyes that watch them; that’s essentially all a strip club is, and Randy’s interpretation is little different.

As always in Heavenly Hatters, the main action tonight was on the main stage in the centre of the largest room. There were other smaller podiums littered around here and there, but the best looking girls always end up on the largest stage. And the largest stage is always the one with the most dazzling lights and the biggest amount of seats around it.

The sight of so many nice things hitting my eyes all at once temporarily sobered me up. Not completely. Not by a long way. But it did put me in the frame of mind to order a soft drink instead of more alcohol. Ever the gentleman where his newfound wealth is concerned, Steve went off to fetch it (and, presumably, drinks for both himself and Brian).

“I can’t see Alison behind the bar” the latter informed me.

“Huh?”

“Alison. You said Alison worked here. I can’t see her”.

“Oh. Right. No. Obviously got the night off”.

“Uh-huh”.

A few moments of silence then passed as we took in the sights from the main stage. The girl currently on there was doing a great job. The punters were lapping it up. Being a Saturday, there were lots of them. The place was as packed as I’d ever seen it.

“Is that Randy by any chance?” Brian then asked, pointing with his forehead.

It was indeed Randy.

Dressed like his usual flamboyant self he was sat a table on the far side of the club, surrounded as usual by half a dozen girls like some kind of sex God. Strangely though, he looked a bit more serious than usual. He seemed to be giving the girls some kind of pep talk (like a manager addressing his players before kick-off?)

And what was this? Had he just looked over at me? Hard to tell with my vision being so blurry right now. Or was I just imagining that he’d looked at me? Not sure.

“Err, yeah that’s him”.

“Okay. I’m just off to the loo anyway. If I can find it”.

Mere seconds after Brian then got up and wandered off, Steve returned with the drinks. My throat was so sore I snatched up the coke he’d bought me like some kind of hobo who’s just found a half full can of pop down by the side of a dumpster. It tasted funny though, almost as if it actually was a drink rescued from the side of a dumpster.

“This – tastes funny” I declared.

Steve grinned a cheeky schoolboy grin. Then he briefly glanced at the action on stage before turning back to me again.

“That’s because I had a double shot of whisky put in it. You didn’t really think I was just going to get you a coke did you?! It’s your stag do!”

Sighing, I took another slurp. Whatever hope I might have had of sobering up in here had now well and truly bitten the dust. I didn’t have the mental capacity right now to actually go and get my own ‘safer’ drink. Like a defeated child, I just accepted my fate and carried on swallowing what I was being given.

About half a minute or so later, I looked up from the table to see a woman stood in front of me wearing nothing but matching gold lingerie. What’s more, I recognised her.

It was Stacy Potts.

In the past, whenever my path has crossed with Miss Potts, I’ve never once taken away a good impression of her. For several reasons. Tonight though all that was completely immaterial. Tonight Stacy was quite simply the goddess of all goddesses. And she was standing right in front of me. Looking at me.

“Hi there, sweetie” she said with a smile. “Fancy something more - private?”

“Hell yeah he does!” Steve positively shouted at the top of his voice.

“Look, Steve, I’m not so sure that – “

But that was as far as I got with that protest. The moment Stacy reached down and took my hand, a peculiar electricity took over my body and resistance was futile. Like it or lump it (but it was definitely a case of like it), I was off for my own private lap dance.

To the song Toxic by Britney Spears, Stacy then began to slowly lead me towards a small room just off from the bar. There were quite a few doors down here actually, but we went inside the first one we came across.

As we crossed the threshold I couldn’t help let out an almighty drunken belch. It wasn’t pretty at all, but Stacy didn’t seem to notice. Instead she just calmly closed the door behind us and beckoned me to walk further inside.

There was nothing inside the room really except for a chair that was slap, bang in the centre. The music from outside was somehow getting into here without hardly any loss of audio. Clever that.

No prizes for guessing I was meant to sit in the chair. However, before I could amble over there, Stacy grabbed me and spun me round to face her.

“No no” she said, beginning to unbuckle the belt on my trousers. "No need for the chair".

“Woah!” I retorted, clamping my hand down on hers to prevent her from continuing. “This doesn’t f-feel like a lap dunce. What are you doing?

“Relax. It’s called extras, darling”.

“But I didn’t pay for any ext – “

Quickly she shut me off by making a silent shush gesture with her finger. Then she leaned in towards my left ear.

“Compliments of Randy” she said softly.

Softly and slowly, she then removed my hands out of the way and began to work on the belt buckle again. Can’t remember why I let her really. I just did. It was all I could do to stand up straight right now, let alone turn down a goddess in gold lingerie!

As Stacy then dropped to her knees, it allowed me to see straight ahead in the direction of the pitch black wall next to the door. Or was it a black cloth attached to a wall? Hard to tell in my state.

Strange thing though; about two feet from the ceiling was a weird red dot. It seemed to be all on its own in a sea of black.

‘What a pretty red dot!’ I thought giddily, suppressing another belch.

miguel_scp · February 14, 2012

Beware of the next day's paper!

Oh, and Channabellabelle too...

KUTGW!

Mull119 · February 14, 2012

Oh no. Oh god, no...

Another brilliant story arc - you have so many and they all weave seamlessly together, hats off to you.

I can't wait to read (through my fingers!) how this turns out.

ScottleeSV · February 14, 2012

Ty fella's

--------

20/11/10 - The stag do (part 3)

Stacy’s good-time-gal act lasted until about two minutes after we were done. Then she went ice cold.

“Gotta go, sweetheart. Have a nice rest of the evening”.

And with that she was off. Out the door. Gone. She didn’t even help me do my pants back up. Doing it myself it took almost five whole minutes. I just couldn't find the tiny little holes in the leather.

Once I’d rejoined the chaos outside though, I walked back to our table with a thoroughly contented feeling in my bones. God I was tired though. I felt like shrivelling up on the floor and surrendering to the land of nod right there and then. I almost missed the chair when I tried to sit in it. Brian had to grab me by the arm and guide me the rest of the way down.

“Let me guess” he sighed disapprovingly. “You went for a private dance”.

“Err yeah” I admitted, moving to pick up my drink and clumsily knocking it over. “Oops!”

“Okay that’s it! I’m going outside to call us a cab home, okay? It’s getting late. And you're as drunk as a skunk!"

“Okay. Yeah. Whatever".

“I’ll come back in and get you when it’s arrived. When Steve comes back, tell him not to go for any more dances or drinks. Okay?”

I found it in me to nod my head and, satisfied, Brian trundled off towards the foyer.

Steve returned shortly after. For a man who’d just had a lap dance, he looked strangely subdued.

“Hey” he said, taking a sip of his drink. “How was your lap dance?”

“Alright”.

“Yeah well mine wasn’t”.

“Why?”

He took his time before explaining. In the meantime, a bra was loosened on the main stage and the whole room cheered.

“Well” Steve continued, now with a grin. “Sometimes in places like these, the girls do something called extras. It’s when they – well – I’m sure you can use your imagination and figure it out for yourself. Anyway, not much chance of extras in this bloody place! The girl I was with was a right stick-in-the-mud when I asked about it. I had a big wad of notes in my hand all ready for her and she wasn't interested!”

“But you’re a m-married man” I stuttered.

“Yeah but this is a stag do, innit? The rules about that kind of thing are relaxed on stag do's. It’s like that thing where women are allowed to propose marriage on February twenty nine i.e. an exception to the rule".

I wasn’t entirely sure he was accurate with that, but I wasn’t in much condition to debate it.

--------

Ten minutes later we were in the back of a taxi and heading for home. We dropped Steve off first. Despite the fact I’d offered to let him stay at mine, he’d insisted on using a hotel. Enjoys spending his newfound wealth does Steve.

Then it was off to my place. I was asleep on the back seat by the time we got there, and Brian had to wake me up. Thankfully he was still lucid enough himself to help me up the outside stairs and in the front door. Then he guided me through to the living room settee and his work was done. God knows what the final taxi bill was when he got home himself.

--------

I had the hangover from hell when I woke up the following morning. Actually, try afternoon. Luke was watching telly close by to me, and Chantelle was in the kitchen making lunch (I could tell from the noises).

It didn’t take my brain long to remind me of the previous night, and once it had processed the part involving Stacy, a horrible sick-to-the-stomach feeling spread over me that was entirely separate to the hangover. What the hell had I done?

‘Jesus Christ. Surely that was just a dream?’

But no. It wasn’t a dream. It had ACTUALLY happened. IT HAD ACTUALLY BLOODY HAPPENED!

Seriously, how could I have been such a fool?!

“Mum! He’s finally awake”.

No more time to ponder it right now. Chantelle was on her way in to see me.

“Afternoon, sleepy” she said, sitting down next to my head.

“Hey” I croaked. “Good night?”

“Yeah. Real good. Was surprised to get home before you though. Where did you end up?”

“Oh err all over the place. Can’t remember where. Steve kept giving me shots. That’s why I feel so s__t”.

“So I can see! Anyway, here, have some of this”.

She had a coffee in her left hand, and now she pushed it down to my lips and allowed me a sip. It tasted like the elixir of life.

“So tell me about your night” I said afterwards, keen to get the subject away from my own night.

“Yeah it was really good! We came home early and got a stripper round”.

“Really?” I asked hopefully.

“Nah! Only kidding. We agreed remember – no strippers”.

“Oh yeah”.

And come to think of it, I now vaguely remembered the conversation.

“I’m making lunch” Chantelle then said, kissing my forehead. “If you want some, you’ve got about five minutes to go shower and get changed”.

“Right. Okay. Will do”.

She went back into the kitchen. Luke, who had been following the conversation, turned back to his cartoon.

‘Oh Christ’ I thought. ‘Last night - why why FRIGGIN why?!'

ScottleeSV · February 15, 2012

23/11/10 - Reflections over a large cappuccino purchased from a coffee house in town that isn't the one opposite the souvenir shop

Three uncomfortable days have passed since the stag do. I’ve been just waiting all that time for an atom bomb to drop in the form of a newspaper article, or a blackmail note. But nothing’s been forthcoming.

Whenever someone gets abducted, they say the more time that passes without that person being found, the less and less likely it is they’ll turn up alive. I get a similar feeling about this situation only in reverse. I feel the more time that passes without the atom bomb exploding, the less likely I am to see one at all. So that’s definitely a good thing.

In the meantime, I’ve been going only several important questions in my head. Over and over again. I’ve been analysing the situation like crazy.

For instance, what the hell was that red dot on the wall? The most obvious conclusion to draw is that it was a video camera. But it could also have been something more innocent. Some kind of heat dial, maybe? A hidden panic button switch? I dunno. I’m thinking outside of the box. Bottom line though; it might not necessarily have been a video camera. If it wasn’t, I’m in the clear.

Next question - and putting aside the issue of the dot for just one moment – how likely is it that Randy Begher would give me a free ‘extra’ in his club?

Again, the most obvious answer is not likely. That being the case, Stacy’s overture would have been purely for the purpose of creating an atom bomb and now all that remains is to release it.

BUT, what if Randy genuinely did want to give me a freebie? No, hear me out. Sure he hates me. But he also has one hell of an ego. What if, when he saw me enter his club on Saturday night, he decided to show off his power? What if by throwing Stacy my way he was making some kind of stupid point like – Hey, look what I can make women do at the click of my fingers! I'm Billy big bollocks. Who the f__k are you?

It’s plausible.

So is the idea he could just have been trying to get me hooked on his girls like some guy trying out cocaine for the first time, the idea being I’d discover I really liked and go back for more.

Again, it’s plausible.

However, what if it was a video camera in there, and what if Randy had set me up? And what IF he just hasn’t got around to putting his evil follow-up plan into action yet? What would the consequences of that be? What the consequences be of the atom bomb exploding?

The way I see it there would be two consequences, one on my professional life and one on my personal life.

Beginning with the former, let’s say I was embarrassed in the press by this whole thing and the football club decided to discipline me. Would they fire me? Would they dare to, when I’ve just won them one promotion and might yet get them another? I’m not so sure they would. I wouldn’t put my life savings on them not firing me, but football clubs are traditionally very loyal towards players and managers who are doing them the business on the pitch.

Yeah okay, Daniel Travers would get all sanctimonious and point out that Luton’s a family club and that my actions had permanently damaged the club’s reputation. And blah blah blah. I think he’d be stonewalled though, purely because I’m doing the business on the pitch. At least that’s my reading of the situation theoretical.

No, by far the biggest damage this atom bomb would do would be to my personal life. Chantelle wouldn’t definitely dump me, but there would be far more chance of her doing that than of the football club firing me. The factor that might save my bacon with Chantelle is the fact she’s cheated on me herself in the past, albeit when we’d only been going out a few weeks. I could play that little card in order to save myself, definitely. I could claim my actions had levelled the scores. Or something like that.

But even if that ploy worked, things wouldn’t be great for a long time. In fact they would be considerably crap for bloody ages.

But at least we’d still be together. Even though I was initially reluctant to the wedding idea (even the idea of getting back together at all!), I’ve become invested in it now. I mean that emotionally as well as financially. I wouldn’t want to lose her now.

But hopefully that won’t happen. Hopefully I’m freaking over nothing and these past three days of silence will turn into fifty years of silence. And beyond.

And as for my recent slip-ups, both with Erica and Stacy, I’m drawing a line through them. Assuming I make it to the wedding in one piece, I’m eyeing the occasion now as the chance for a clean start. I’m better than the other night. I just need to learn not to err drink shots. That’s the ticket. Definitely.

ScottleeSV · February 18, 2012

24/11/10 - The inspiration will come to me eventually

Around lunchtime today I sat in the canteen trying to work on some tactics for the next game. The trouble was I had far too much on mind away from football. Consequently, by the time half an hour had elapsed, I’d hardly done anything.

Then Nicky walked in.

“Hey!” she said, coming over to my table.

“Hey, Nik-nak!"

Instead of sit down straight away, she dumped the carrier bag she had with her onto the table and then turned around again. I knew what she was doing here even before she did it; she was off to the confectionary machine and then the coffee machine. In that order. Then she’d finally come and sit down. The carrier bag, by the way, had her sandwiches inside it. Guaranteed.

Watching Nicky at the confectionary machine is always a must for me (if I get the chance). If she puts her money in straight away, that means she’s getting a Twix. If she delays a while, that means she‘s getting anything but a Twix. In such an instance, the delay basically means she’s pre-decided to get something else for a change. This happens maybe once every three trips.

Once she’s made her selection, Nicky then does one more thing I watch out for. Just as she’s straightening her back again after retrieving the chocolate, she always runs one of her fingers along the ridge behind her ear. This is to replace any strands of hair that might have popped out from craning herself forwards. She does it every time.

“What you working on?” she asked, approaching me again once she’d also visited the coffee machine.

Not wanted to be embarrassed at how little I’d done, I quickly turned my sheet of paper over.

“Match tactics” I replied.

“And they’re private?”

“Absolutely! Top secret, these! You’ve got no idea how much the information on the other side of this piece of paper is worth. No, can't let you see it”.

She smiled widely but didn’t push the issue any further. Instead she reached for her carrier bag only to pause just as she was about to actually open it.

“I’ve got something for you” she announced.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s an early birthday present. I thought to myself you probably won’t really be having a proper birthday this year - with the wedding being on the same day - so I thought I’d give you something early”.

“Oh okay. Cool, let’s see it then”.

But Nicky just grimaced and did nothing.

“Okay. Just before I give you it though, I need to explain something. After you got me that bracelet for my birthday, I really wanted to get you something equally good for yours. I couldn’t think of anything though. At least, I couldn’t think of anything as good that would be worth as much as the bracelet. So I decided to get you something that would cost nothing but would maybe be kind of cool. I mean why try and compete on price if you can’t, and if you couldn’t even think of anything anyway, right?”

That was nothing but babble to my ears. I think she'd even thrown herself into that last sentence without fully knowing where it was going. She sounded a bit how I probably sounded just before handing her the bracelet, like maybe she felt obliged to give some kind of explanation for what she’d bought in case it seemed too lavish.

“So anyway” she said after a very deep breath. “Here it is”.

And similar to the bracelet, this present wasn’t wrapped up. The reason I’d not bothered with wrapping paper was in case she hadn’t liked it. Then I could have kind have said – well, it was only a spur of the moment purchase. No big deal. That’s why I didn’t bother wrapping it. No worries, anyway. I’ll just take it back.

Had Nicky had the same thought? Anyway, without further ado, she finally reached all the way into the carrier bag and pulled out..

..a blank compact disc.

Judging by Nicky’s body language, mind, you’d think she’d just handed over the genuine Mona Lisa. She put her face behind her hands and peered out between her fingers.

“Err thanks” I said. “A blank compact disc. Always handy to have spares, I suppose”.

“No, it has got music on it!”

“It has?”

If it did there was no writing on the back. Most people who record music on CDs write the track listing down on the back in biro. Me included.

“Yeah I know there’s no writing” Nicky said, guessing my thoughts. “I did that deliberately though. I thought it would be cooler that way. Now all the songs will be a complete surprise when you play them”.

“So this is a CD full of music that you’ve recorded and put on it?”

“Yeah I thought you could add it to your car collection or something. I know it’s not as good as the present you got me but – “

“No no!” I interrupted. “It’s great. I like it. I mean I love it. I’ll make it the next thing I put on in my car. And yeah, the surprise element is cool. That will make it very intriguing to listen to indeed”.

I genuinely meant those sentiments. Once I’d worked out what the present was, I did think it was kind of cool. And she’d clearly put a lot of effort into it. How many other birthday presents was I likely to get this week? Next to none, most likely, let alone something as good as this.

“Are you gonna let me see this or what then?” Nicky then asked.

Before I could even react she'd flicked my tactics sheet back over. All that was written on was 4.4.2 with a question mark next to it at the top of the page. The rest of the page was blank. Told you I hadn’t done much didn't I?

“Nic – “

“That’s it?! This is all you were hiding?! What does that mean?”

“What? The 4.4.2?”

“Yeah”.

“It means – it means I’ve thought up four good tactics so far, four very good tactics, and two genius tactics”.

“Oh” she replied thoughtfully. “Well I’d definitely think about using the genius ones. They sound the best”.

“Oh they are. They’re – genius”.

ScottleeSV · February 19, 2012

26/11/10 - The wedding day (part 1)

Without any further dramas, the morning of the wedding dawned bright and clear. I woke up by myself in the apartment because Chantelle had opted to stay the night at a friend’s (because that’s what you do the night before you get married – you sleep in a different residence to your wife or husband-to-be. It’s tradition). Luke was once again in the care of Eugene.

I felt relatively calm as I got showered and had breakfast. No nerves here. Not really. The Stacy incident might have stressed me out last week, but six days had passed since that. I was well and truly starting to believe I’d got out of dodge.

Just as I was putting my wedding suit on, Brian turned up. It was good timing truth be told. I’m not using to wearing waistcoats and button holes and all that crap. I quite fancied a second pair of eyes around to tell me if I was doing anything wrong. Little did I know though I was about to get a third pair too. And a fourth.

“Who else are you expecting?” Brian asked me, as the sound of the doorbell from downstairs hit our ears.

“Nobody” I replied.

“Steve, do you think?”

“Maybe. He said he was going straight to the registry office though. Mind you, you never know with Steve, I suppose”.

Could have been anyone though, to be honest. Darren? One of Chantelle’s buddies? Absolutely no way of knowing until I went and checked. Handing Brian my suit jacket for the moment, I moved out to the landing and went down the stairs.

One person I was definitely not expecting it to be was Andy Branston. Still, that’s who it was. Together with his photographer Derek Nevins, he was stood there on the doorstep with a notepad in one hand and a pen in the other. Oh, and he had a noticeable grin on his face too.

As for the photo guy – Nevins - I vaguely remembered him. He’d been the guy who, two years ago, had helped capture my embarrassing first ‘lesson’ at Wigmore Primary School.

“Err hello” I said with uncertainty.

“Hi” Andy responded.

A few moments of silence passed. Andy looked at me enquiringly, then at his assistant. Then back at me again.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Aren’t you going to let us in?”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because it’s in the contract, maybe?”

“What are you talking about?”

Andy sighed. He did it in the style of a man struggling to get his point across to an idiot.

“Okay, let me make this simple in case you’ve forgotten. Ourselves and The Bedfordshire Bulletin have paid for full access rights to your wedding. That includes the whole day from start to finish, including any morning preparations that might be going on. So in essence, that’s why we’re here. We’re here to see whatever’s going on. And don’t bother trying to shoo us away. I’ve already cleared this with Chantelle. We’re to be allowed inside the apartment”.

Despite his warning not to bother with any further attempts at dissuasion, I did briefly point out there was nothing more to see here this morning than a man putting his suit on. Branston was having none of it though and very soon he and Nevins were wiping their feet on the doormat.

I didn’t bother offering to make them a drink. I didn’t even show them to a seat. As soon as the front door was closed behind them, I walked back up the stairs without even telling them why. If they wanted to follow, good for them. If they didn’t, fine.

Strangely though, they didn’t follow. As me and Brian were then seeing to the finishing touches of my appearance, this began to concern me. What were they getting up to downstairs whilst we were up here?

Waving Brian’s offer of some more aftershave away, I decided to go down and check.

Turned out they were in the kitchen. Nevins was sat at the kitchen table with a cup of tea in his hand. Andy was stood leaning back against the sides; not only did he have his own cup of tea but he was also munching on some of our chocolate digestives. Bambi was sat near his leg hoping he’d give her one.

“Help yourselves, by the way” I said sarcastically. “In fact, make yourselves a meal too. I don’t care”.

“Oh. Sorry, James. Maybe I should have added outside on the step that Chantelle told us to help ourselves to any tea or snacks we fancied whilst we were here”.

“I see” I replied, beginning to feel my cheeks go red. “Seriously, Andy, why are you here? There’s obviously nothing to see here. Maybe I can half understand why you’d want to see the actual ceremony, but why this bit? It’s pointless”.

“Not necessarily. You never know when or where a story will break, James. And even if one doesn’t, which I admit it probably won’t – not here anyway – being here at least gives me a feel for how you’re feeling, and that’s something that could give me a couple of lines for my article. I’d get used to us if I were you. We’re going to be floating around in the background alllllll day long”.

Sighing, I put my face in my hands and gave it a slow rub. Then I looked back up.

“All day” I repeated glumly. “Andy, please tell me she hasn’t also granted you press access to our marital bed tonight”.

He smiled at that. Actually it was more like a sneer. There was a lot of subtext in that sneer. Mainly he was using it as a means to answer my question in the negative. I swear though he was also saying – I don't even know why a woman like that would sleep with an idiot like you.

Something like that.

“Tell you what” he then said for real. “Why don’t you go back to whatever it was you were doing? Whilst you’re doing that, well, I quite fancy a bit of Sky TV for the next ten minutes or so actually. Don’t you, Derek?”

“Yeah I could go for that” Derek replied.

And with that the pair of them picked up their cuppas and biscuits (and camera equipment) and moved to the living room. Leaving me stood there like a lemon.

‘All this for three lousy f__king grand!’ I lamented.

MarkC1984 · February 19, 2012

Should have gone with Erica, not Chantelle. Oh well. Shame this Erica is a fictional character, I find her quite attractive from the descriptions in the story lol. Oops, sorry text speak. Won't happen again, promise.

ScottleeSV · February 20, 2012

Text speak is not forbidden from replies, so don't worry

--------

26/11/10 - The wedding day (part 2)

I got to the registry office a comfortable fifteen minutes before Chantelle was due to turn up.

There was nothing pretty about the place. Don’t get images of nearby orchards and rolling country hills and old fashioned churchyards. This was very much a location of convenience, somewhere you tie the knot because either one or both of you didn’t have the patience to wait for somewhere better to open up. Being just a few streets away from the town centre, this was to be very much an urban wedding in all its graffiti and concrete glory.

Turned out that most of the guests had also arrived early. I haven’t exactly been to many weddings in my life so I couldn’t tell you if this is what people usually do. Like with the engagement party, the Chantelle contingent by far outweighed the James contingent.

Most of them were her mates. All seemed to be young slim women in their twenties. All were dressed to the hilt too, like it was Ladies Day at Ascot or something. Most noticeable however was the fact none of them seemed to actually spot me turning up. None of them grabbed my attention and said hello; they just carried on talking in their little girly groups and pretended I wasn’t there.

Andy Branston suddenly seemed to be pretending I wasn't there too.

I wasn’t bothered though. I had plenty enough of my own guests to greet me as I stepped out of the taxi – Brenda, Darren, Nicky, Kindra, and Steve, to name but a few.

I hadn’t invited the football team (not sure if I’ve mentioned my decision on this previously). I can’t even explain why really. I guess I just like the idea of keeping a certain distance between myself and my players. Something like that.

Neither did I invite Bob, Glynn, Fred, and Erica. I didn’t invite Erica because I figured it would be bad karma after what happened between us. I didn’t invite Bob, Glynn, and Fred, on the other hand, so Erica wouldn’t start to wonder why she was the only member of the office building not getting an invite. Again, I may have already said this in the diary at some point. Can’t remember.

Anyway, once I’d exchanged some small talk with my chums from the office, and once Brenda had bored everyone senseless taking a hundred pre-ceremony pictures with her disposable camera, I went inside. In their own time everyone else followed suit.

Even though this wasn’t a church, we’d decided in the build-up to make it at least feel like a church by having the traditional wedding theme play on a tape recorder. As he had been at the Cyril versus Albie deathmatch, Darren was in charge of the recorder. He literally had his finger on the play button ready for the exact moment Chantelle walked through the door.

She did this bang on time.

I’d expected her to be late, as per tradition. With my phone clock showing exactly one in the afternoon however, some mate of hers I didn’t recognise ran inside to tell everyone the car carrying the bride had arrived. Silence then descended as we prepared to get underway. Nevins was already taking pictures in the back right corner.

“Here we go, mate” Brian whispered in my ear. “Good luck”.

“Cheers, mate”.

Partly because it was a surprisingly warm day outside, but mainly because Chantelle’s huge following couldn’t all fit into the reception room, the doors at the back had been left open.

In she walked. Slowly. Unaccompanied (her father has never been in her life). When I saw her my jaw practically hit the floor.

Put simply, she looked amazing. Obviously I hadn’t seen her in her wedding dress before now but she definitely must have spent some time picking it out. It fitted every curve to absolute perfection. It made her look divine. Like an angel. Sounds clichéd but it’s true. She looks amazing on a normal day, sure, but today she'd surpassed herself and then some.

Her hair seemed to flow down in a different way than it normally does. From top to bottom it was just filled with more deftly woven curls. It looked incredible. She must have got up at the crack of dawn to work on that.

She smiled at me on the final approach to the front and I smiled back. Inside I felt a glow of warmth. A glow of pride. Now the whole thing made sense. It had made sense before, but now it made sense on a whole new level. Everything was perfect.

Our substitute for a vicar was a woman in a suit. She’d been friendly to me when I first arrived and she was friendly now as she addressed the audience and slowly began to run through all the various biblical claptrap. Once that was over it was time for the recitals. Chantelle and I stood side by side, occasionally glancing at each other, occasionally having to repeat something back to the woman in the suit. You know the drill.

Eventually, we reached what you might call the funny bone of the service i.e. the moment where the vicar (or person in suit) asks the audience if anyone objects to the union. Nobody ever does of course. Well, not usually.

As the question was asked at today’s ceremony, I turned around with a smile on my face and pretended to be eyeing up each member of the audience to see if there actually would be anybody wanting to object. I was in good spirits by this point, you see. I was ready for anything. The crowd appreciated my subtle visual joke and produced between them a chorus of sniggers. Chantelle grinned too but didn’t say anything.

But then all humour imploded in an instant.

Just as I’d turned my head back to face the front, I voice sounded out from the back of the room.

“Actually – yes! I object. I object strongly!”

As I quickly snapped my head round again, the murmurs began on either side of the aisle, as those watching themselves turned around to see where the voice had come from.

It had come from the back. It had come from the actual doorway itself. The person who’d spoken was stood there almost blocking the light from outside with her presence.

Chantelle’s whip of the head meanwhile had arguably been even more forceful than mine.

“Who the f__k is that?!” she whispered to me, a nervous quake in her voice.

“Err – “

Even though I certainly recognised the person in the doorway, I didn’t immediately answer.

‘Oh dear. Oh dear oh dear’.

L3mmonwolves · February 21, 2012

Daaaaaaaaangit Scott, why must you do this?! Don't answer that. It makes this amazing story just that much better, these cliffhangers. Gripping stuff! :applause:

CecMcCormack · February 21, 2012

ooohhh!!! Who's it going to be, the one doing the objecting I wonder!

Can't wait for the next installment!

Ceirdiff · February 21, 2012

The cliffhangers make it so much better...

Just not once you've finished reading it and are waiting for the next instalment

Johnny Drama · February 21, 2012

Great cliffhanger, eagerly awaiting your next update!

Ceirdiff · February 21, 2012

I reckon it's Dimic's daughter...

ScottleeSV · February 22, 2012

26/11/10 - The wedding day (part 3)

It was my mum.

“No son of mine is getting married without me being there to see it” she explained herself with. “Do continue”.

My step-dad was behind her. The pair of them stepped inside the door now and placed themselves off to one side. There were no seats left so they had to stand.

Twisting around again, those who did have seats breathed a collective sigh of relief. Except for Andy, that is. Andy looked disappointed, like maybe he’d been hoping my mum was some random middle-aged woman I’d secretly got pregnant, and had now turned up to tell me at the most inconvenient of moments.

I should probably admit that my mum was here uninvited. It wasn’t that I didn’t want her and dad here; I just – well – hadn’t got around to sending her an invite. I think I’d been half fearful she wouldn’t approve of me not getting married in a church. They’re very traditional my parents. Anyway, they were here now. I guess they must have discovered the time and date of the ceremony over Facebook or something.

“Carry on” Chantelle told the woman doing the ceremony.

Moments later it was time for the ring. Brian handed it over, and in turn, I then placed it on my bride-to-be’s outstretched finger. Having looked completely panic stricken during the interlude with my mother, Chantelle had now thankfully regained her smiley composure.

All this of course could only possibly end with one sentence..

“I now declare you man and wife. You may kiss the bride”.

And with great passion, we did just that. How the audience cheered and whooped and applauded. They say everyone loves a good wedding. Can’t say I’m one of those people, but I’ll make an exception for my own.

It was all over. I was officially a married man.

Next order of business was to sign the register thing. After that, Chantelle and I walked arm in arm out into the street to more applauding and cheering. We got completely drenched in confetti too. Good times.

The ten minutes that followed reminded me of when we beat Wimbledon to clinch the title last April. It was just non-stop joy and tears and laughter and hugging. From everyone. Everyone got thoroughly into it and everyone made it an occasion to remember. Even my mum and dad looked overjoyed. There seemed to be no resentment at all about their invite getting ‘lost in the post’.

Speaking of parents, I stepped away from one of Brenda’s latest photos to find that my phone was vibrating. It was a text. From my real Dad. Stan the Man.

Facing away from the building you’ve just come out off, if you turn left and walk 200 yards down the road, you’ll see me

Obviously this was another who’d found our location via the internet.

He couldn’t let himself be seen with me of course. Not with all these people around. And especially not with Andy Branston here. I would have to go to him instead.

“Brian” I whispered. “I’m disappearing for a minute. If Chantelle asks, or anyone else, tell them I’ve gone to get a couple of cigars for later”.

“Err right. Cigars. Got it”.

My real Dad was right where he’d said he would be, more or less (I didn’t count out the yards). He wasn’t dressed up for the wedding but then it would have been rather daft if he had.

Such was my good mood, I hugged him as a greeting without even thinking about it. He reciprocated the squeeze and even looked delighted that I’d started it.

“Congratulations” he said.

“Thanks”.

“I hope I get to meet her one day”.

“Oh you will” I reassured him. “You will”.

“Well, I won’t hold you up. I know you’ll be being missed around about now. Consider this a symbolic visit more than anything else; a quick in and out. The last thing I wanted to do was miss your wedding day, having missed so much of everything else in your life”.

“I’m glad you came, even if it's just for a couple of minutes”.

Stan smiled.

“Oh!” he then exclaimed, reaching into his jacket pocket. “I almost forgot. I brought you a small wedding gift, something to get you and Chantelle started on the long and winding road ahead”.

‘Small’ was not the appropriate word. On receiving and opening the envelope I discovered a cheque for fifty thousand pounds. Fifty damn thousand!

“Look” I said, putting the cheque back inside and handing it back. “I appreciate the gesture, really I do. However, you’ve already given me one big cash gift before. I don’t need another one. I’m my own man now. I can make my own way. But thanks anyway”.

“James – “

“You won’t change my mind on this, Dad. Believe me”.

My use of the word Dad took him aback slightly and made him smile.

“Okay, son. Okay”.

We hugged again one more time. Then we said our goodbyes and I headed back to the celebrations.

I felt very happy on the inside. About many things.

L3mmonwolves · February 23, 2012

Ahahaha... haha... hah.... Excellent use of anticlimax. Me gusta.

miguel_scp · February 23, 2012

Bah, I was thinking Randy Begher... not James' mum

MarkC1984 · February 23, 2012

Not quite what I was expecting. Still a good story though. Nice to see that his dad turned up on the wedding day.

ScottleeSV · February 23, 2012

26/11/10 - The wedding day (part 4)

The registry office was the only part of the wedding we did ‘on the cheap’. Everything else we paid top dollar for.

The reception was to be held at a swanky hotel on the outskirts of town. We’d booked out an entire banqueting suite to ourselves, complete with bar and barmen. We also had a three course meal on offer for all the guests, not to mention a staff of about ten hotel workers running around cooking and serving it.

I’ve got to say, the meal was worth every penny. In fact, my belly was so contented afterwards, I completely forgot about the speeches. It was quite the wake-up call when Brian suddenly nudged me and asked if I was ready. Because Chantelle’s Dad wasn’t here, my speech would be first in the pecking order.

I hadn’t made any notes for it. Nor would I be telling any jokes (just not my style). I planned to say whatever came to me and that would be that. Oh, and there was another bit I had to do once I was done with my bit, but you’ll see what that was in a minute.

“Ladies and gentleman!” I shouted, tapping my champagne glass with a spoon. “Ladies and gentleman”.

It took them a while but finally they stopped talking. From their octagonal tables around the room, most of the guests had a decent view of we here at the very top table.

“First of all, thank-you for coming. I know it’s a Friday today and a lot of you have had to take time off work. On behalf of both myself and Chantelle, thanks very much. It’s very much appreciated”.

I paused, thinking what to say next. I supposed I’d have to say something about my new bride.

“I’d also like to thank my new wife” I said, turning side-on to face her. “It must take a lot to put up with a stressed out football manager day in day out, but somehow you manage it. I’m very lucky to have you. Thanks for coming into my life.

A few aw sounds from the audience. Chantelle smiled and took another sip of her champagne.

“I’d also like to thank some other people. Darren, for some sterling work on the tape recorder earlier. Brian, for lending your assistance at every turn. My Mum and Dad, for travelling so far on my big day. All the helpers with the flowers at the registry office; I’m talking to Chantelle’s friends here. Thank you very much, ladies! And you know what? To be honest, if I went on and thanked everyone who helped, I’d be here all day. Thanks to everyone. For everything!”

And that was pretty much all I had to say really. Oh, except for just the one more thing, the thing I'd touched on earlier.

As the audience lightly clapped their appreciation at my words of thanks, I reached into my wallet and pulled out a piece of paper Chantelle had passed me during desert. She’d explained to me what this was about a few days ago. I suppose to prepare myself I really should have at least read the thing privately before reading it out loud. I just hadn’t got around to it though.

‘Crying out loud’ I suddenly said to myself, unfolding the paper and seeing how long it was.

Clearing my throat, I steadily began to read.

“There’s one more person I’d like to thank before I wrap up. We’re lucky enough today to have a special guest among us – Andy Branston from The Hertfordshire Herald. Yes, there he is, sitting in the front row. Andy is a reporter who works tirelessly across the lengths and breadths of both Hertfordshire and Bedfordshire to provide insightful reports on the events of the day”.

Pausing again, I glanced at Chantelle almost in disbelief. I didn’t dare catch Andy’s eye.

“Andy’s decisive, humorous, but informative style has long been the benchmark for other young aspiring journalists in the area" I went on. "Who can forget, among others, his award winning weekly updates from Luton airport during the 2004 baggage handler strikes, or his emotional double page tribute to the relegated Watford FC team at the end of the 2007 premiership season? Not many people, I'm sure. In more recently times Andy has also been instrumental in helping develop the online version of The Herald".

This was now already longer the rest of the speech combined. No way Chantelle had written this herself. She would have had little knowledge about the baggage handler strikes, and even less about Watford's poor campaign in the 2007 Barclays Premiership. That little baldy git-bag had written his own little bloody Oscar speech!

Gritting my teeth, I plodded on.

“Whether negotiating icy terrain in some of Britain’s worst winters, or throwing himself into harm’s way at Downing Street marches, Andy has shown himself time and time again to be Mr Reliable when it comes to keeping we the public up to date with what’s going on outside our front door. From the very bottom of mine and Chantelle’s hearts, I'd like to thank you very much for covering our special day, Andy, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the celebrations throughout the evening”.

Nodding to Brian (he was next up), I sat down again and soaked up one last splattering of polite applause.

The moment attention was off me, I scrunched the piece of paper I’d been reading from into a little ball and dropped it on the floor beneath the table.

MarkC1984 · February 24, 2012

Bloody nerve of the man. After the way he treats James, he wants that long speech? I would have thrown it in his face the cheeky beggar.

ScottleeSV · February 25, 2012

26/11/10 - The wedding day (part 5)

Unlike me, Brian would be reading from a script. He looked a bit nervous actually.

“Hi everyone. For those who don’t know me, I’m Brian Fox, James’ best man. I’m also his assistant manager at the football club”.

A brief pause for breath.

“I first met James two and a half years ago when he came to interview for the job. He was really green back then. Very fresh faced. I’m sure at the time he had absolutely no idea of what he would be getting himself too. The tears - the tantrums - the late nights - the ups - the downs - the highs - the lows - the stresses - the strains – still, that’s enough about his relationship with Chantelle”.

Oh dear. If that was as good as it was going to get, we were in real trouble.

Brian did a little chuckle to himself on release of the punch-line. One or two audience had groaned at the joke. Nobody laughed though, and Brian soon looked a little put out. Before moving on he cleared his throat.

“No, James and Chantelle are great together really. In fact, James, I can tell you, is incredibly dedicated to both his career and personal life. He’s been especially dedicated to planning this wedding. The other day I overheard him talking to another manager on speaker phone. ‘How much do you want for him?’ the other guy asked. James replied – ‘Well I’ll tell you what, throw a new toaster and a cutlery set my way and we’ll call it a deal’.

This time he got one laugh. From Nicky. Everyone else stayed deathly silent. Whether Nicky had laughed out of sympathy or because she’d genuinely found it funny, I don’t know.

“Err anyway” Brian continued. “As great as he’s been as both a football manager and boyfriend, he’s still human. He still makes mistakes. For instance, it was only the other day he was given a major dressing down for encroaching into someone else’s technical area”.

He paused at this point. I sensed another punch-line coming.

“Bit harsh though if you ask me. He’d only gone in there for a bowl of Shreddies”.

Nice try. But Brian had unsuccessfully gambled that the largely female audience would know what a technical area is.

Again he did the self-chuckle thing straight after the joke, and again nobody laughed. Not even Nicky helped him out this time.

It was at this point he gave up the ghost. There was a hell of a lot more writing on his sheet than what he’d read out so far, but no doubt through lack of interest, he’d decided to quit whilst he was behind. All that remained for him now was to say a few kind words about the bride and groom, and then get the hell off the stage. He wouldn’t need a script for this bit. Anybody can spend ten seconds praising a bride and groom without rehearsing it first. Even Brian.

“Well anyway” he said, putting his joke sheet back in his pocket. “Time to be serious. When it comes to James and Chantelle, I’ve no doubt they’ll have a long and happy life ahead of them together. They’re a fantastic couple. I never doubted for a minute this day would come – even when they split up for four months during the summer”.

‘Oh Jesus Christ, Brian!’

Instant murmurs around the room at Brian’s last comment. Half of them probably weren’t even aware me and Chantelle had once split up. He definitely hadn’t intended that as a joke, by the way. I could tell by his body language. He’d visibly grimaced immediately after the final word had left his big gob.

“James!” Chantelle hissed in my ear. “Do something!”

“Okaaaay!” I said to the room, rising to my feet. “Thanks very much for those kind words, Brian. Time to move on though. The first dance will commence shortly. In the meantime, the bar’s open in the function room if you all want to start heading over there”.

"Sorry mate" Brian whispered.

"No worries".

--------

Approximately fifteen minutes later, myself and Chantelle were in position to dance.

The topic of which song to use for this had provided some lively debate back home. I’d quite fancied The wonder of you by Elvis, or some other golden oldie. Chantelle though had wanted something more modern. Specifically, she wanted Eternal flame by Atomic Kitten.

I’d decided to let her have her way. There are some things in a relationship worth arguing about and some that aren’t. This definitely fell into the former category.

And so, taking her around the waist in the middle of the dance floor, we got going.

'Hopefully this is the final cheesy moment of the day' I thought, trying to avoid people's eyes as we moved around.

Dr. Hook · February 26, 2012

Just spent the better part of a month getting through this, and I have to say well worth the read! Good job, and I look forward to future installments. For me you hit the right mix of elements; my favorite storyline, I have to say, is the loud fat guy that has tantrums every place James happens to show up . Seriously, though, good work and great commitment here!

michael62 · February 26, 2012

thought you would like this your "favourite" player Keith Keane scoring a 35 yard free-kick for us yesterday in the fa trophy quarter final

! he does not score many for us but when he does they are stunner's

ScottleeSV · February 27, 2012

Great goal that. And thanks, Hook, I appreciate those words. Thanks for reading.

Now back to the story. I did initially have six parts for the wedding. The one where Prairie turns up and starts ruining all the professional photo shots (because of his cowboy garb), simultaneously driving Chantelle into a bit of a rage, has sadly been omitted because it just didn't pan out as well as I thought.

Finally then, we reach a new day.

--------.

27/11/10 - Waiting for the catch

I woke up the following morning in a very good mood. And by the time I got out of bed, you can multiply that by about ten.

We were staying at a hotel up near Barton-Le-Clay. This was purely an indulgence on our part, something to make up just a little bit for not having a honeymoon to go on. Well, officially we didn’t have a honeymoon to go on. Secretly I had a little something up my sleeve. Hehe. I planned on revealing it over breakfast.

Hard to describe the place where we actually had breakfast. It was sort of half cafeteria, half bar. It was situated out near the back of the hotel, looking out onto the gardens. Only guests of the hotel were allowed to use it.

We didn’t go down together. I went first because, well, women spend ages getting ready and I quite fancied a quick read of the morning paper anyway. Greeting the waiter with a friendly smile, I ordered a cappuccino, grabbed a Daily Telegraph from the rack, and sat down at a little two seat table near the window. There was a flower in the middle of the table and the overall decorum was pleasant. I liked it. Top marks.

When my wife finally appeared, I was most of the way through an article that talked about the possibility of several of England’s top clubs breaking away to join a new European Super League. Arsenal, Tottenham, Man United, Liverpool, Chelsea, and West Ham are all apparently open to the idea. There was no mention of whether Luton would be interested.

“Babe” Chantelle said with a smile, putting her arms around my neck and kissing me.

She then sat down opposite and beckoned the waiter across.

Originally I’d planned to wait until we’d finished eating before dropping the surprise on her, but now the moment had arrived I realised I wouldn’t be able to enjoy my food if I did that. Best to just get it out in the open and be done with it.

“I’ve got a surprise for you” I began.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Are you ready?”

Her eyes lit up and she grinned. She always likes surprises does Chantelle. Well, the good kind anyway.

“What is it?”

“Well, you know how we agreed there would be no time for a honeymoon until next summer?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, I know there’s only a few days until my next match, but in the meantime I thought we could go on a kind of mini-honeymoon, a warm-up if you will, for next summer”.

I paused for maximum effect. Took a sip of my cappuccino. As I did, Chantelle’s eyes remained fixated on me like a hawk’s.

“I’ve booked us a couple of days in Paris. We leave this afternoon. Your mum’s already agreed to have Luke until Wednesday”.

“No way!”

“Yes way. Do you like the idea? Did I do the right thing?”

It was clear that I had. Chantelle was now half laughing, half staring open mouthed, and half going oh my god every ten or so seconds.

“Oh s__t!” she suddenly said though, covering her mouth with a hand. “I don’t have a passport”.

“Yes you do! I’ve packed it!”

“No. What I mean is, it still says Jackson on it. I’m Chantelle Martin now, remember?”

“Oh that doesn’t matter. I thought about that the other day and I checked up on it. Turns out they’ll still accept your old name”.

“Oh okay. Great then!”

After this, we pretty much spent our entire breakfast discussing what we would do during our trip. I’d picked Paris not because I particularly fancied it myself, but because Chantelle isn’t really much of a geography buff. I’d wanted to pick somewhere she would instantly recognise and get excited about. It just wouldn't have had the same effect if I'd picked Bratislava or Ankarra.

Oh, and no it hadn’t crossed my mind to re-book Tenerife. What if we bumped into that spandex bird? Nope. No way, Pedro.

“What time do we have to leave here?” Chantelle asked.

“Hmm, no later than two” I replied carefully.

“Ah. Good. They’ve got a spa here on the first floor. I was thinking about checking it out - maybe get myself a massage if they’re doing them”.

“Yeah, fine. I could do with some alone time anyway. I want to check in with Brian on the phone, make sure he’s got all the bases covered whilst I’m away”.

“I’m sure he’ll be fine”.

“Yeah I know. But I’m still going to check in with him anyway”.

I rose to leave and this time it was my time to orchestrate a kiss.

“Oh” I then said. “This massage of yours. Only if it’s a woman doing it, right?”

Chantelle raised her eyesbrows, smiled, but didn’t reply.

Satisfied anyway, I smiled back and walked off.

‘Okay, something’s wrong here. First yesterday was pretty much perfect. Well, apart from the speeches but that’s no biggie. And now today is going even better. What the hell’s going on? This isn’t normal for me. Surely something has to go wrong eventually? Has it just not happened yet, perhaps? Is God just teasing me, and something's going to happen at the airport, or in France?'

Or maybe – just maybe - this really was going to continue being perfect.

Maybe.

ScottleeSV · February 28, 2012

November 2010 round-up of the other divisions

--------

Premiership

Top – Liverpool (35), Man United (33), Arsenal (29), Chelsea (29), Newcastle (25), Portsmouth (24)

Bottom – Sunderland (16), Reading (16), West Brom (15), Ipswich (13), Wigan (13), Fulham (11), Blackburn (9), QPR (7)

The dream continues on Merseyside but the lead is cut from three to two points. Also, it’s now Man United in second rather than Arsenal. And look at Portsmouth creeping up into the top six! What a crazy world I live in, eh? (wink).

Blackburn only had two points this time last month. An accumulation of seven in November puts them back in with a fighting shout of staying up. QPR replace them at the foot. Fulham’s miserable return meanwhile of one point for the entire month lands them a relegation spot.

--------

Championship

Top – Bolton (35), Coventry (32), Charlton (31), Sheff Wed (30), Wolves (29), Cardiff (29), Birmingham (28), Swansea (27)

Bottom – Nottingham Forest (19), Blackpool (19), Doncaster (18), Leicester (18), Huddersfield (17), Southampton (16), Barnsley (15), Preston (15)

A stunning run of fourteen points for the month sees Bolton rise from fifth to first. Coventry stay second. Newcomers to the playoff picture are Sheffield Wednesday, Birmingham, and Swansea.

A ten month haul in November sees Blackpool race away from the bottom. Preston replace them. It’s very tight down here generally though. Not obvious how this will play out at all.

--------

League One

Top – Crystal Palace (33), Hartlepool (33), Millwall (32), Colchester (32), Scunthorpe (30), Stockport (30), Brighton (27), Northampton (26)

Bottom – Bristol Rovers (20), Crewe (19), Leyton Orient (19), Bradford (17), Bury (15), Peterborough (13), Tranmere (12)

Steve rises to top spot but he’s still making hard work of it given the budget he’s got. Just one defeat, for instance, could see him drop as far down as sixth depending on other results. League’s top scorer remains Paul Hayes of Scunthorpe on nine goals. How many times have I said that about Hayes?

The bottom three are unchanged, but Bradford fall into the relegation zone after a good month for Bristol Rovers.

--------

Blue Square Premier

Top – Kidderminster (41), Dag & Red (38), Burton (35), AFC Wimbledon (35), Salisbury (34), Oxford (33), York City (32)

Bottom – Chelmsford (21), Fleetwood (21), Woking (21), Forest Green (20), Welling (20), Stevenage (20), Crawley (19), Altrincham (16)

Kidderminster stay top but their lead is cut from four to three points. The rest of the top six is largely unchanged; except for the fact that Salisbury have jumped into the playoffs in place of Wrexham. Leading marksman here is Elder of Oxford who has nine goals. Another regular in this column is Elder.

The bottom half of the table continues to serve as a timely reminder that money doesn’t always buy you success. How refreshing to see both Fleetwood and Crawley completely underachieving! Stevenage’s presence down here is also surprising. They have however at least risen one spot since last time I did an update.

--------

Blue Square North

Top – Stalybridge (29), Redditch (28), AFC Farsley (28), Droylsden (28), Hinckley (27), Worcester (27), Hyde (27)

Bottom – Gainsborough (21), Blyth Spartans (21), Workington (20), Telford (16), Harrogate (15), Hednesford (10), Guiseley (4), Cambridge City (2)

A change at the top here sees Stalybridge dethrone Redditch, thanks not in the slightest to goal hero Nathan Joynes. He tops the charts with ten strikes. Elsewhere, Barrow had a horrible month to drop from second to somewhere outside the playoffs.

The tale of woe continues for Guiseley and Cambridge City - truly a pathetic effort from both this term. Hednesford picked up four points in November to at least keep them in with a sniff of not joining Guiseley and Cambridge in getting relegated.

--------

Blue Square South

Top – Ebbsfleet (35), Havant & Waterlooville (32), Braintree (32), Eastbourne (26), Bishops Stortford (26), Newport (25), Merthyr Tydfil (25)

Bottom – Basingstoke (18), Maidenhead (17), Team Bath (17), Hayes & Yeading (16), Weston Super Mare (15), Tiverton (13), Dover (8)

Myfootballclub.com rise to the top and you probably wouldn’t be wise to bet against them staying there. Very little change elsewhere in the upper echelons except for the appearance of Merthyr on the playoff fringes.

Dover continues to hover precariously on the edge of a very steep cliff. St Albans had a great month meanwhile, rising from second bottom to mid-table. Top scorer in this league is Jamie Slabber at second placed Havant & Waterloovile; he has nine goals to his name.

Ceirdiff · February 28, 2012

Wait...wut? Merthyr Tydfil were miles down the pyramid irl methought, and definitely above Colwyn bay.

ScottleeSV · February 29, 2012

Yeah, from a realism point of view, it annoys me to see the likes of Merthyr and Team Bath in the Blue Square South.

--------

01/12/10, League Match 17

Luton Town v Cheltenham Town

GK – Lars Stubhaug (20 apps, 0 goals)

DL – Richie Byrne (57 apps, 1 goal)

DR – Claude Gnakpa (118 apps, 3 goals)

DC – Tony James (74 apps, 4 goals)

DC – Dorian Moore (13 apps, 0 goals)

DMC – Kevin Nicholls (90 apps, 23 goals)

MC – Keith Keane (109 apps, 13 goals)

ML – Charlie Daniels (67 apps, 5 goals)

MR – Michael Taylor (55 apps, 5 goals)

FC – Dean Bowditch (46 apps, 21 goals)

FC – Edgar Snowden (2 apps, 1 goal)

Aside from having a bloody great time, nothing of note happened in Paris.

I felt a bit awkward about this comeback match at home to Cheltenham. Partly it was because I was now walking around with a wedding band on; I was worried the players might start taking the Michael and cracking jokes. There was also the complete opposite possibility, that some might put a face on and wonder why they hadn’t been invited.

And then there was the fact our opponents were the same ones we’d be facing in four days time in the FA Cup. I hate it when fate does that. Always seems to happen though, doesn’t it?

Anyway, to get around the wedding band problem, I put on the sternest game face I could possibly muster post-2pm and hoped the players would take the hint. Nothing I could do about who we were playing; I just hoped the team wouldn’t play within itself in a self-conscious bid not to give much away ahead of Saturday.

At least I didn’t have much in the way of selection headaches. Glenn Poole was out, but that was about it. Richie Byrne came back in at left back for Aaron Ides. Daniels was the man to replace Poole.

The two teams ran out to Heaven is a place on earth by Belinda Carlisle. We were in orange, Cheltenham in their away day blue and black stripes.

Depressingly, all my pre-match fears about the game being played out like a friendly, came to fruition. Absolutely bugger all happened in the first twenty minutes. Cheltenham, who’d arrived at Kenilworth Road in the bottom eight, looked like they’d come for a draw. We on the other hand simply seemed to look rusty after the ten day layoff.

When the first chance came, at least it was a Luton chance. Michael Taylor stopped the ball with the underside of his foot before curling in a lovely ball from the right wing (level with the edge of the penalty area). In ran Keith Keane to meet it close to the penalty spot but a tug from behind seemed to put him off his stride. He still got the shot in, but could only hit it down into the ground. He didn’t get much bounce either. The ball skimmed along the mud and Higgs in the Cheltenham goal managed to palm it out.

Instantly of course the whole ground appealed for a penalty. It had certainly looked like a penalty. Maybe Keane though has a reputation amongst the League Two referees. This one waved his arms low and from side to side and mouthed no over and over. Keane looked incensed.

Maybe we were put off our stride after that because Cheltenham should have taken the lead in the 26^th minute. Again the chance came from a cross, this time from the left wing. Farrell was the man who put it in and Bird had an absolute valley of space with which to score in. He elected for the header – which was fair enough – but yet again this was an effort down into the ground. Worse, it went a foot wide. Can’t not hit the target from there, lad.

We tightened up after that and didn’t give much away for the rest of the half. At the other end, The Robins remained bullish in defence, only occasionally letting us in for a shot. When Nicholls blasted one wide from thirty yards on the half hour it almost felt like desperation.

A better foray came on 34. This time the strikers swapped a few passes before Snowden’s final dink to Bowditch actually attempted to set him free. The resulting tangle between Bowditch and the two defenders trying to stop him ricocheted the ball back out to Nicholls on the edge of the area. He was in a much better position to shoot here was Nicholls. He was much closer in.

El Skip shot left footed but mistimed. The shot therefore went low and wide. Snowden had the chance to deflect it towards the net on its way through but didn’t get enough contact. I couldn’t even be sure he’d touched it at all in the end. Shame that.

The half’s final opportunity went to Bowditch. This time he did manage to collect after an attempted through ball but was slightly too far out to inflict damage. Instead, with no support to call on, and defenders closing in, the striker whacked it as hard as he could from twenty five yards and central. Higgs stood firm and patted the ball down into the earth by his feet. Then he caught the ball on its way back up.

On the whole, not creating enough here. Work to be done at half time.

ScottleeSV · March 2, 2012

“Come on, lads! This lot aren’t fit to share the same field!”

If my team-talk had inspired them, the song they ran back out to could only have had the opposite effect. I’m sorry, but Pure by Spandau Ballet is a completely inappropriate tune to play at half time during a football match. I’m going to have a word with the guy who spins the decks at some point this week. Or maybe I’ll just talk to Glynn about it, heaven forbid.

On the plus side, early signs in the second period were encouraging. Keane had already hammered a right footed pile-driver over the bar before Daniels surged down the left in the 47^th. The two sets of players in the box were expecting the standard cross, but Daniels pulled it back to the edge of the area instead. Recipient Nicholls looked like he was going to hit it but flummoxed everyone by laying it back left again for Daniels.

The winger came to meet the pass inside the area, took one touch to get it back on his left, and then smashed across goal. I swear the ball went through at least two player’s legs when it all it would have taken was one touch to send it careening into the net. To add insult to injury, it just clipped the outside of the far post on its way out for a goal kick.

Despite Daniels’ good play, I sent Poole on in the 60^th minute. I reckoned he’d be good for half an hour at least. I also send Ides on for Byrne at left back. I’d been impressed by the newcomer’s support play against Exeter and wondered if he’d be an extra asset for us as we chased a winning goal.

Next chance also went to Luton. This time Bowditch took on a pass from Taylor but didn’t risk taking it on towards goal. Instead he waited until the two central defenders had positioned themselves between him and the goal, then side-footed a surprisingly hard effort that Higgs had to get a strong hand on to keep out.

Cheltenham bounced back but only with a tame effort from twenty five yards – by Schofield – a couple of metres wide.

In the 71^st minute Snowden was ridiculously unlucky not to make it two goals in three games. Ides provided that forward surge I’d been hoping for before whipping one low into Snowden’s feet on the edge of the area. With quick-thinking abandon, Snowden swiped a shot in before getting tackled and again Higgs had to make a good save; this time he could only parry around for a corner.

Time was motoring on now, sadly. The away side didn’t particularly look like scoring but we were possibly running out chances to score ourselves. In the scheme of things this would be two points dropped if we couldn’t make the breakthrough.

The crowd seemed to be feeling exactly as I did, and hastily began singing some songs. Fans are always willing to put the effort in on the back of three wins (four if you count Cambridge). Sensing the moment, I made my third and final substitution. On went Cadamateri for Snowden. A popular switch this one. Cadamateri had previously been out for an extremely long time.

A few more corners came and went before Bowditch once again went for one his side-footers from outside the area. Reminds me of Berbatov when he shoots like that. On this occasion the effect was deflected off defender Townsend and out on the far side of the area to Taylor. The shot was just about on here and Taylor took it. Tipped over by Higgs.

God we deserved this win!

Just to keep us honest though, Cheltenham then went and created their best opening of the half. Noel-Williams ran a hell of a lot further than James and Moore should have let him, eventually releasing the ball to Hudson-Oboi not far to the right. Hudson-Oboi was technically in on goal here but he didn’t have much time and space. As a result he fluffed his quickly taken shot and it went a foot wide of the near post. Good chance that.

The final few minutes were all Luton however. Keane, Poole, and Cadamateri all had reasonable half chances before the ninety were up. Then just after the board showing three minutes went up, Bowditch was given a sitter.

I can’t even begin to describe how deep in their own box Cheltenham has begun to sit. Indeed they were so deep, our frontline began to exchange passes all over the place actually INSIDE the area, as if they were doing it in the centre circle on the halfway line.

Finally Nicholls toe-poked it out to Taylor and he dinked a little one into where Bowditch was waiting like a predator to finish it off. The crowd were off their seat expecting the net to ripple but Bowditch glanced his header – two yards out – not into the net but inches wide of the far post.

Oh the agony.

--------

FULL TIME (att - 8695)

Luton Town 0

Cheltenham Town 0

--------

(other results)

Accrington Stanley 2-1 Lincoln

Barnet 2-1 Aldershot

Brentford 1-1 Bournemouth

Chester 1-2 Yeovil

Darlington 2-1 Oldham

Grays 1-2 Chesterfield

Grimsby 2-0 Torquay

Hereford 1-2 Walsall

Notts County 0-1 Wycombe

Rochdale 1-0 Rotherham

Shrewsbury 1-0 Exeter

--------

| Pos   | Inf   | Team          |       | Pld   | Won   | Drn   | Lst   | For   | Ag    | G.D.  | Pts   | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 1st   |       | Darlington    |       | 17    | 9     | 4     | 4     | 28    | 17    | +11   | 31    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 2nd   |       | Yeovil        |       | 17    | 8     | 7     | 2     | 21    | 12    | +9    | 31    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 3rd   |       | Rochdale      |       | 17    | 9     | 4     | 4     | 23    | 18    | +5    | 31    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 4th   |       | Exeter        |       | 17    | 8     | 6     | 3     | 20    | 13    | +7    | 30    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 5th   |       | Grimsby       |       | 17    | 7     | 8     | 2     | 21    | 13    | +8    | 29    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 6th   |       | Shrewsbury    |       | 17    | 9     | 2     | 6     | 30    | 23    | +7    | 29    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 7th   |       | Barnet        |       | 17    | 8     | 5     | 4     | 17    | 11    | +6    | 29    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| [b]8th   |       | Luton         |       | 17    | 8     | 4     | 5     | 26    | 19    | +7    | 28    |[/b] 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 9th   |       | Walsall       |       | 17    | 8     | 4     | 5     | 19    | 13    | +6    | 28    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 10th  |       | Wycombe       |       | 17    | 8     | 4     | 5     | 19    | 15    | +4    | 28    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 11th  |       | Lincoln       |       | 17    | 8     | 3     | 6     | 23    | 19    | +4    | 27    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 12th  |       | Notts County  |       | 17    | 8     | 2     | 7     | 18    | 21    | -3    | 26    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 13th  |       | Aldershot     |       | 17    | 7     | 3     | 7     | 28    | 26    | +2    | 24    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 14th  |       | Accrington    |       | 17    | 7     | 3     | 7     | 23    | 25    | -2    | 24    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 15th  |       | Rotherham     |       | 17    | 6     | 6     | 5     | 19    | 21    | -2    | 24    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 16th  |       | Grays         |       | 17    | 6     | 4     | 7     | 27    | 26    | +1    | 22    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 17th  |       | Chesterfield  |       | 17    | 6     | 4     | 7     | 23    | 25    | -2    | 22    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 18th  |       | Cheltenham    |       | 17    | 4     | 8     | 5     | 19    | 19    | E     | 20    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 19th  |       | Oldham        |       | 17    | 6     | 2     | 9     | 22    | 24    | -2    | 20    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 20th  |       | Bournemouth   |       | 17    | 5     | 4     | 8     | 17    | 17    | E     | 19    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 21st  |       | Torquay       |       | 17    | 4     | 5     | 8     | 18    | 25    | -7    | 17    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 22nd  |       | Hereford      |       | 17    | 2     | 6     | 9     | 14    | 30    | -16   | 12    | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 23rd  |       | Brentford     |       | 17    | 1     | 3     | 13    | 13    | 35    | -22   | 6     | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------| 
| 24th  |       | Chester       |       | 17    | 0     | 3     | 14    | 10    | 31    | -21   | 3     | 
| ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------|

ScottleeSV · March 5, 2012

02/12/10 - Just can't let it go

I stayed away from the office today to help with the house move. The removal van arrived outside the old apartment bang on nine in the morning, and from that point forwards it was non-stop all hands to the pump until early evening. The hard part wasn’t the actual moving. The hard part was unpacking all the boxes once the van had gone; that and working out where everything was going to go.

Both in size and quality, comparing the old apartment and the new house is like comparing Kenilworth Road with The Emirates Stadium. As such, both Chantelle and Luke had something of a spring in their step all day. As for me, I wasn’t so cheery. I wouldn’t say I was in a bad mood, particularly. I just wasn’t in a good one either.

The reason for this was the ongoing spectre of Stacy and the red dot. I thought I was just beginning to put it behind me the longer the wedding day went on. Then on the mini-moon (that’s what me and Shan are affectionately calling our recent honeymoon – because it was so short) I hardly thought about it at all. Now though, I’m thinking about it again. Can’t explain why. I just am.

So just after three pm today, in a bid to put my mind at rest, I decided to do something about it. Potentially it was a stupid thing to do. What can I say? I just couldn’t help myself.

“Hi Alison. It’s James”.

“Oh. James. Long time no speak”.

“Can you talk?”

“I can. I’m at home. Strip clubs don’t open in the afternoon, remember?”

“Ah good. You’re still working undercover there then”.

“I hope you didn’t just say that in front of anyone”.

“No. I’m alone”.

“Good!”

Actually, I wasn’t alone. Luke was floating around in the hallway with me playing with one of his toy cars. Chantelle meanwhile was out back with her hands on her hips wondering what she was going to do with a garden the size of a public swimming pool.

“Okay, let’s cut to the chase” I said, switching my phone to the other ear and heading upstairs. “I need to tell you something but you’ve got to promise to keep it a secret. I'm serious too! If I tell you this then it's got to stay COMPLETELY between me and you, Alison!”

“James, you know a secret of mine that could get me killed. I’m hardly going to risk – “

“Okay okay!” I cut her off with.

Heading into the bedroom, I peered around the curtain and down towards where my wife was standing. I very much wanted to know where she was at all times during this conversation.

Satisfied, I then began to tell Alison everything that happened on the stag do. At first I just gave her a watered down version of the Stacy bit; I said she’d just given me a lap dance. Alison being a cop though, well, she saw through that one straight away, and in no time at all I was divulging the x-rated version instead.

“Dear oh dear oh dear” she replied, stifling a chuckle. “I never would have pegged you as the type”.

“I’m not the type! It was Steve. Steve and his shots! Never again though, I tell you!”

“So what is it that you want from me?”

Taking a deep breath, I explained about the mysterious red dot I’d seen on the wall.

‘Please please please tell me you know what that is and that it’s not a camera’.

“I’ve no idea what that would be” she replied after a moment’s thought.

‘Damn’.

“No idea at all?! But you’ve worked there longer than I can remember!”

“Yeah. Behind the bar. I’ve never been in those private dance rooms. Never had any need to”.

Frustrated, I peered out the window again. Chantelle was now looking inside the garden shed. What for I’ve no idea. Luke I could still hear down in the hallway running his toy car down the staircase banister. He was making his own motor car noises. Annoying when kids do that. Very annoying.

“Well can you find out for me?”

Alison sighed.

“I doubt anyone’s planning to do anything suss now even if it was caught on camera. Too much time has passed”.

“Yeah I think the same, to be honest. I just want to put my mind at rest though. Look, can you find out for me or not?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“What’s in it for you is that I continue to defend your person to Darren, Nicky, Brenda”.

“Hmm, not much of a deal. But okay, fine. I’ll see if I can take a look around next time I get the chance. Let me call you though! Don’t pester me on this”.

“No don’t worry. I won’t. Thanks, Alison”.

She said a quick goodbye and so did I. Then I flipped my phone shut and put it in my pocket.

When I then looked out the window again, Chantelle was gone.

‘What the – ‘

The sound of footsteps on the stairs could suddenly be heard. Milliseconds later, my wife was in the room with me and throwing her arms around my neck.

“I have just had an amazing idea for where we could install a duck pond!”

‘Oh great. More money. Might as well just p!ss it up a strip club wall at this rate'.

ScottleeSV · March 7, 2012

03/12/10 - The root of all evil

Most of the office were chatting away merrily this afternoon when the sudden sound of the door opening hushed everyone into silence.

The unannounced visitor was Erica.

“James, can I have a quick word?”

“Okay”.

As Erica then turned on her heels and retreated through the door, I got up to follow. Her request had come across friendly enough. No signs of irritation there.

“What’s up?” I asked, shutting the door behind us.

“There’s a man outside the front gates being a nuisance. I wondered if you’d go try and persuade him to go away”.

“Who is he?”

“Best if you just see for yourself”.

Sounded dodgy to me. Why couldn’t she just tell me? Sighing slightly, I paused and crossed my arms.

“Please, James” Erica persisted. “We don’t have on-site security guards and calling the police will just attract press attention. I’ve already tried to get rid of him myself but he won’t budge”.

As much as I wanted to re-visit my previous question, something held me back. I think it was the fact that to have done so would have been to risk steering Erica away from this weird mutual respect thing we’ve had going on recently. It’s amazing what a quick snog can do for employer-employee relations. I might have to consider puckering up with Keano at some point. Could solve some underlying issues.

“Okay, I’ll go have a look”.

“Thanks”.

“What level of force am I permitted to use?”

“Words only of course! Just give it a go. That’s all I’m asking”.

“Okay”.

Without further delay, I headed off through reception. Erica meanwhile headed for the stairwell.

The obvious assumption to make here was that some drunken lout with a can of super strength Tennants was parading around outside being a rowdy b@stard. It didn’t even have to be a Luton fan. In fact more than likely it wasn’t. Chance favoured it was a Watford supporter, or maybe one of those armchair Man United fans. All manner of possibilities.

What I was faced with instead however was, well, something else entirely..

Stood there in the street was an Asian man, a sandwich board around his neck and a bell in his right hand. As I approached him he was turned side-on so I couldn’t immediately make out the message he was parading.

‘Unsolicited news vendor?’

Again the obvious assumption turned out to be wrong. As the guy heard my footsteps approaching on the tarmac, he turned to face me and the message was revealed.

“Football is evil!” it read. “Abandon Luton Town!”

‘Oh you can’t be serious’.

I had no idea what nationality the guy was. I had the same trouble pegging him to one specific country as I do Bear from the East Side Dojo. Somewhere in Asia; that’s as much as I can narrow it down to. Maybe western Asia. He certainly wasn’t Chinese or Japanese.

“Can I help you, sir?” I asked by greeting.

“Yes” the man replied. “Help close this football club and lead a more honourable life”.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

I’m not saying this because he was Asian, but the guy was really odd-looking. He looked like a pirate in modern day clothing. On one of his ears he had a skull and bones earring. On his cheek he had a weird square shaped scar, like maybe someone had taken a hot iron to it. His hair was short but uneven, like a putting green suffering from neglect. His clothes (those I could see beyond the sandwich board) were brown and tatty. Very strange looking man indeed.

“Football is evil” he went on in reasonable English. “Exactly as it says on the board".

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? I'll tell you what I mean. I mean football is evil and it needs to be banned! Football turns kids into selfish arrogant young people who think it’s okay to lie and cheat and con their elders. It turns fully grown men into mindless hooligans who would rather spend their afternoons drinking and snarling instead of spending time with their families. It makes millionaires out of people who only work for about three hours a week. It’s wrong. All wrong! It needs to be stopped! Banished! Gotten rid of!”

As much as his ‘cause’ was ridiculous, the guy was clearly very passionate about it. My face was already covered in his spit and I’d only been stood here half a minute.

“Look, as much I can emphasise with the sentiment, I’d really appreciate it if you went and touted it some place else”.

“And who are you exactly?”

“I’m the manager of this club!”

To this the guy produced a hmph sound.

“The brains behind the operation!” he spat out. “When all's said and done it’s you I probably detest the most!"

"Why?"

"Well why do you think? Who allows football players to get away their detestable behaviour, both on the pitch and off it?! Managers! Who signs them and puts them on ridiculous contracts that are completely out of touch with the rest of society?! Managers! God you people make me sick! In fact the only people I despise more than football managers are solicitors”.

Now the guy was really getting my back up.

“I think it’s time you left” I said firmly.

“I’m not going anywhere” he replied. “I’m outside the ground so you can’t touch me. If I want to stay here I will”.

“But why here? Why Luton? If you truly believe football is polluting society – or whatever – why not go and stand outside Old Trafford, or Stamford Bridge? That’s where you’ll find a culture of excess. Not here”.

“Oh I’ll be going to those places soon enough. As soon as my work is done here I’ll be moving onto other grounds. One by one I WILL rid this country of the filth called football. I’m only starting here because I live around here”.

“Well if you live around here why don’t you start with Luton Lightning instead? They’ve got a casino next to their ground. You could hold a protest against gambling whilst you're at it".

“No. I live closer to here so here is where I shall start”.

No longer knowing what to say, I glanced around as if looking for help from an outside source.

“I mean look at that monstrosity” sandwich board man continued, gesturing with his bell in the direction of the stadium. “The whole place is a stain on the scenary. Just think of what could be done with that land if the football ground wasn't there. There could be some nice kiddie’s playgrounds there, or a botanical garden. Maybe even a small lake”.

“For the last time, please move on” I said without much energy. “I implore you to”.

A young couple with a kid had just begun walking towards us on the other side of the road. Sandwich board took one glance at them before stiffening himself into a position of action.

“Sorry to break off this enlightening discussion, but I’ve got work to do. Do take care, Mr Manager”.

'God I hate it when people call me that'.

“Wait a second. Look – “

But that was as far as I got with that, reason being it was then sandwich board man began ringing his bell and shouting at the top of his voice. The bell on its own would have been enough to drown me out.

“Football is evil! – To hell with football! – Abandon Luton Town!”

I didn’t hang about to see the reaction of the approaching couple. Sighing in frustration (and just a little bit of bemusement), I turned around and headed back to the office.

ScottleeSV · March 9, 2012

04/12/10 - The redemption

“North Queensland Fury” I began confidently. “I saw them play Adelaide United on Sky the other week. Well, highlights anyway. So that’s two right off the bat right there”.

“Good start” Cyril agreed.

“Then you’ve got Sydney FC, Brisbane Roar, Perth Glory, Melbourne Victory, Central Coast Mariners, Newcastle err something”.

“Newcastle Jets. I’ll give you that one”.

“Thanks”.

Privately though, I reckoned that had this been a Deathmatch, Cyril would have been screaming at the adjudicator to not allow the point.

Not many left now. It was getting harder.

“Err Gold Coast United. And – and – come on, James. Oh! There's that New Zealand one! Wellington Phoenix”.

“That’s ten. One more to go”.

“One more? I’ve done ten! That’s not it?”

“There’s eleven”.

Sighing, I twiddled my coffee cup around on the chequered blue table cloth. Then I thought. I thought hard. The eleventh team from Australia’s Hyundai A-League however would just not come to me. Always happens in a game like this though, doesn’t it? You always fall one short. There’s always one you just can’t quite remember.

“I give up. Who is it?”

“Melbourne Heart”.

“Melbourne what?!”

“Melbourne Heart. They’re a new team. You haven’t heard of them?”

“No I bloody well haven’t! You having me on?”

“No. Look it up! They’re a new team. Just come in this year. I swear”

I’d take his word for it. Anyway, there were more important things to think about right it. Correction; there was ONE more important thing to think about right now. That ‘thing’ was Cyril asking a certain girl called Zara out. Zara was the name of the girl he fancied who worked in the cafe across the road from the souvenir shop. We were in there right now. The cafe I mean.

Yes, things had moved quickly over the past couple of weeks..

After the operation coffee shop girl fiasco, or whatever they’d called it, I’d thought it would take months to boost Cyril's confidence back up to a level sufficient enough to ask a girl out. To my bemused surprise though, it had only taken weeks; and not many weeks at that.

“Okay now it’s your turn” I said. “Name all the teams in the top flight of the Japanese J-league”.

“You know what? I can’t even name one! I’ve seriously never given Japanese football so much as a glance”.

“Well this is one I win then, because I can name one – Grampus Eight”.

Cyril raised his eyebrows as if to say fair enough.

In the ensuing silence, I took another glance at Zara. She was just milling around at the moment, occasionally serving a customer, occasionally washing a cup. Cyril stole a glance too and for the first time today produced a little nervous shake of the upper body. Nerves?

I’d been surprised when he’d asked me here to witness this, his second attempt at asking Zara out. After all, if he’d wanted moral support, why not Lee or Albie? If I had to guess though, I think he just wanted to prepare himself for his task by entering a more normal realm for half an hour. As much as there’s nothing wrong with gossiping about all things sci-fi with a guy dressed like Patrick Stewart, it’s probably not the best preparation for asking a girl out.

“I think I’m ready” he broke the stalemate with.

“To ask her out?”

“Yep”.

“Are you sure? I mean are you absolutely one hundred – “

“I’m ready” he reaffirmed.

And you know what? I believed him.

There had been no pre-match sickness this time, no silly gadgets, no gimmicks. What’s more, he’d proved himself able to engage himself in a conversation completely unrelated to Zara whilst sitting just ten yards away from her. That to me was a very good sign.

“So how are you going to go about this?”

“Just by doing the same as I’ve been doing the past few days; I’m going to go up, drops my saucer off, and say a few words of general chit-chat. Only difference is this time, I’m going to ask her out at the end of it.

“Okay, sounds like a plan”.

“Only think is though – “

“Oh?”

Cyril glanced at Zara again and then back at me. His hair was all tidily combed today, another impressive touch (for him).

“Well, I think I’d like to do this alone”.

It took me a minute to realise what he meant!

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. No worries. I’ve finished my coffee and cake now anyway”.

“Thanks for coming though, and err, if it goes well, I’ll text you. If it doesn’t, I won’t”.

“Okay, that makes sense”.

Rising to my feet, I put my coat on and shook Cyril’s hand. Then I made my way out through the front door.

Outside, I shoved my hands in my pockets and then began walking to where my car was. It was about a thousand yards away. Not easy to park in the centre of Luton these days.

About a third of the way there I had a thought. What if I hid out of sight back towards the cafe and waited for Cyril to come out? Such is the way the guy wears his heart on his sleeve, surely I would be able to tell how things had panned out just by studying his facial expression? Then I could wait until he was back in the souvenir shop before slipping away undetected. I know he’d said he’d text me if there was a favourable outcome, but still, if this went well I quite fancied seeing how happy he'd look.

Making a spur of the moment decision to do it, I doubled back. Then I went inside a pet shop near the dojo and peered out through the window. The owner quickly gave me a funny look so I pretended to be studying a fishing rod as I waited.

Cyril came out a mere sixty seconds later.

Straight away I knew he’d been successful. The guy wasn’t just walking out of the cafe with his head held high, he was running with his head held high. I mean he was seriously running! He seemed to have completely forgotten there was a busy road between him and the souvenir shop.

But it was the look on his face that caught my attention above everything else (even more than the running). It was just pure unadulterated joy, and even though there weren’t any tears anywhere, there ought to have been. That face told a story, a story of many years of silent torment suddenly put right thanks to one unforgettable moment. We've all been there at some point, I guess. That first moment where a girl shows an interest - it's always a special moment. A goosebump moment.

Nope, I probably won’t forget that facial expression of Cyril's for a long long time to come.

Neither, I suspect, will the guy in the Renault who knocked him down.

Ceirdiff · March 11, 2012

Can't you...just for once...give you characters an easy life? :-P

salkster2102 · March 11, 2012

Neither, I suspect, will the guy in the Renault who knocked him down.

Ouch I know how that feels bloody french cars!

miguel_scp · March 12, 2012

I keep picturing Cyril as Comic book guy. Call me crazy...

ScottleeSV · March 12, 2012

05/12/10 - Rob those Robins

To his credit, he did put the brakes on in time to avert a disaster. But even so, he still ran Cyril over. Sort of.

Cyril for his part spotted the car out the corner of his eye but didn’t have enough time to work a dodging manoeuvre. All he could do in the millisecond he had was to twist side-on and put his hands out in an instinctive blocking motion. It literally looked like he was trying to stop the car with his hands like Superman.

The car had almost come to a standstill by the time contact was made, but there was still just enough force there to send Cyril backwards into the road. If he’d landed on his head he still might have been in big trouble. Luckily, he seemed to go down on his shoulder.

There followed sixty seconds of angry recriminations, mostly in the form of beeping horns. Then Cyril, after groggily picking himself up, scurried back onto the pavement and the world was able to continue once more.

Judging by the smile returning to his face, he didn’t seem too bothered about being run over. Neither did he look in any pain (even though he surely was!). Amazing how invincible a willing woman can make you feel.

Anyway, content that he was okay I waited until he was back in the souvenir shop then went on my merry way.

That was yesterday.

Today it was mind back on the football and Cheltenham away in the FA Cup. This being the second round, we were potentially just one match away from the glamour tie I’ve been secretly dreaming about all season.

The borough of Cheltenham in Gloucestershire has a population of 115,000 according to Wikipedia. I went there early before everyone else today and took a look around.

First I went into the centre of town and had an early lunch; nothing much to see there. After that I went to the Cheltenham Art Galley and Museum. The emphasis here was a little too much on the art side to be of interest to me, but at least it was free entry. Always a bonus.

Cheltenham is mostly famous for its horse racing. I did toy with the idea of heading over there and seeing if there were any races happening, but for a novice like me it probably would have taken too long to get into. The main event on the calendar isn’t until March anyway. It’s called the Cheltenham Gold Cup.

The football club has only recently in its history turned pro. Until 1997 they weren’t even a Conference Premier club. Then they got promoted there, won it after just two seasons, then after three seasons in League Two even managed a further promotion up to League One. This was as good as it got and The ‘Robins’ have since become a yo-yo between that division and League Two.

Today we were definitely hoping to err rob those Robins. Had to slip that in just in case the title doesn't make sense.

Quickly onto team news..

There was one change from the side that could only draw 0-0 with the same opponents four days previous. Gnakpa wasn’t fit to start so Aaron Ides would play in his secondary position of right back. Daniels continued on the left wing.

One thing that peeved me off before kick-off was the fact I caught several of the players playing that stupid card game again – Magic Temple. It wasn’t just three of them this time either. I counted seven players holding cards in their hands when I entered the away dressing room. I swear to God I’m going to ban them playing that s__t if it carries on. Players should have their minds on what they’re being paid for at quarter to three on a Saturday. Not on card games.

The two teams ran out to Song 2 by Blur, Cheltenham in their red and white stripes and Luton in orange. This being an FA cup tie, there was a decent atmosphere brewing. The Hatters fans had travelled in reasonable numbers.

“Thoughts, Brian?”

“I’d take a draw – get them back to our place”.

“Yeah that wouldn’t be terrible. Would rather get the job done today though if possible. Then I can look forward to tomorrow’s draw knowing we’re definitely through”.

‘Number thirty one - Manchester United – eleven times champions - will play - number twenty three - that’s Luton Town of League Two. Luton of course are managed these days by their promising young manager James Martin. Martin has been touted as future England material by many people in the media. That will certainly be an interesting tie anyway. Live Sunday game material certainly’.

I smiled to myself at the thought. Then I got my game face on.

“Come on, lads!” I shouted.

ScottleeSV · March 14, 2012

05/12/10, FA Cup Round 2

Cheltenham Town v Luton Town

GK – Lars Stubhaug (21 apps, 0 goals)

DL – Richie Byrne (58 apps, 1 goal)

DR – Aaron Ides (2 apps, 0 goals)

DC – Tony James (75 apps, 4 goals)

DC – Dorian Moore (14 apps, 0 goals)

DMC – Kevin Nicholls (91 apps, 23 goals)

MC – Keith Keane (110 apps, 13 goals)

ML – Charlie Daniels (68 apps, 5 goals)

MR – Michael Taylor (56 apps, 5 goals)

FC – Dean Bowditch (47 apps, 21 goals)

FC – Edgar Snowden (3 apps, 1 goal)

Today’s battle at Whaddon Road began with a chance for the home side. I don’t know what the defence was meant to be doing but Bird had all the time in the world to send Hudson-Odoi on his way. The striker didn’t have a defender within ten yards of him as he bore down on Stubhaug. Lucky for us then he went for the trickier option of trying to go around Stubby instead of just slotting it past him. The impressive young keeper managed to dive low and palm the ball away from Hudson-Odoi’s toes.

More was to come for the red and white army. They truly were rockin’ robins in these early stages. Gallinagh forced Stubhaug into another save from a corner before that man Hudson-Odoi won Cheltenham a free kick over on the left. The ball was swung in by someone with yellow boots and a combination of about three different people deflected it narrowly wide of the near post. Stubhaug was stranded that time.

Gradually we got back into it. Gradually. Nicholls had a little go at the home defence on 20 minutes but shot ten yards wide. The crowd laughed and jeered at that one. I must admit, he hasn’t had his shooting boots on recently has El Skip.

A curious moment developed in the 22^nd minute as a cross from Finnigan caught Stubhaug square. Hudon-Oboi went up with Moore for the header and the former seemed to connect with the back of his neck. This took the sting out of the ball and it ended up looping up onto the roof.

Five people had been booked by the half hour mark, all for separate incidents between the various chances. This was a real blood and guts affair. Both teams clearly fancied a crack at a big side in round three.

We had our best chance of the half with ten minutes to go until half time. Daniels went on a rampaging run down the left before crossing left-footed into the mixer. The ball evaded most of the defenders and attackers present and landed in the path of Taylor at the back post. He was only ten yards out here and maybe five wide of the far post. Trouble was, the first time shot wasn’t hit true. Taylor sliced it into the crowd.

Another opening followed, and this time we got it on target. Nicholls looked like he’d lost the ball in midfield but a lucky ricochet saw it bobble back into his path. The skipper took dead aim, and with one heavy swipe sent the ball hurtling towards the left hand corner (about halfway up the goals). Keeper Higgs was equal to it but couldn’t hold it. Wiggins cleared.

I thought we were going to see out the half the strongest at this stage, but then Cheltenham went forward again and I have to admit they were ridiculously unlucky not to score.

After a move involving several players, Schofield played Farrell in and Ides chopped him down. It was an obvious penalty for the ref to give but for one intervening factor; the ball broke loose across the six yard box where Hudson-Odoi and Davis were steaming in for the easy tap-in.

Looking back, I think the ref decided to cop out of giving the pen because he figured Cheltenham were about to score anyway. Only trouble was; they didn’t. In a truly comical c_ck up, Hudson-Odoi and Davis got in each other’s way and the ball never actually crossed the line. The ball got cleared by James and the ref evidently decided he couldn’t then retrospectively award the penalty because too much time had passed since the foul. So, bottom line is we got away with keeping our goal intact.

Of course, the Cheltenham fans were incensed with what happened and booed the ref off at half time. Polite applause meanwhile came from the Luton faithful; connoisseurs for letting football flow, every last one of them.

Both teams had now gone two hours and fifteen minutes this week without scoring a goal in anger. Would there finally be one in the second period?

ScottleeSV · March 15, 2012

“Think of Anfield! Think of The Emirates!”

I had them thoroughly pumped up by the time they went back out; everyone that is except Charlie Daniels. I substituted him when I overheard him ask Taylor if he fancied a quick hand of Magic Temple.

“I’m gonna start burning those stupid f__king cards whenever I see them from now on” I told Brian, as we walked back out.

“I agree. It looks like a daft game anyway, if you ask me”.

The final tune before the restart was Kiss from a rose by Seal. Never a song I’ve particularly liked to be honest. I can remember it coming out when I was a teenager.

We won a corner in the first minute that Cheltenham didn’t think we should have been awarded. When Nicholls whipped it in, goalkeeper Higgs went up to claim but then dropped it. Sadly none of our strikers anticipated this so Higgs was able to quickly drop down like a kid playing Musical Bumps and reclaim.

For the next five minutes our possession was first rate. Just a shame the chances didn’t come.

The game went quiet for a brief spell and I wondered if both teams were now playing with the fear that one quick mistake would knock them out. The hour mark came and went without further incident.

I held off making another sub at this stage because nil-nil was better for us that it was for them.

Big mistake.

In the 63^rd minute Cheltenham won a corner on the far right. Farrell swung it in with gusto and just like that, Bob’s your uncle, Schofield glanced a header past Stubhaug into the far corner. Byrne might have stopped it but the header came in at an angle that just didn’t suit the man on the line very well.

As Whaddon Road erupted, I snapped my fingers angrily at the players on the bench. Screw it. Subs two and three could go straight on. This was the FA Cup. Better to take a risk than surrender meekly. My best bet now was perhaps to disrupt the Cheltenham rhythm whilst they were still working out how to go about protecting their lead.

So, on went Spencer for Snowden and Cadamateri for Taylor. The formation would stay the same but I gave Cadamateri license to play further in towards the strikers than Taylor had. It was still officially 4.4.2 but unofficially it was 4.3.1.2, albeit a very wonky looking one. Unorthodox, but hey, it was the FA cup etc. Worth the risk.

And wouldn’t you just Adam and Eve it! It worked! Well, more by luck than design. We didn’t exact torment the Cheltenham defence in the twelve minutes it took Spencer to score the equalizer, but by George it felt good when it came.

A cross into the box by Cadders was scuffed diagonally clear. Only as far as the edge of the area. Keano retrieved and dinked a little ball between a trio of red and white shirts for Poole to run onto near the by-line. Poole pulled it across (or is that ‘Pooled’ it across?), and Spencer was there to convert. He didn’t hit his shot very well but the thing with shooting from the edge of the six yard box is this; you don’t have to connect all that well to beat a keeper scurrying across his line.

The Luton fans all went bananas, and some even spilled onto the pitch. Haven’t seen them do that in a while. Thankfully Spencer is one of my more sensible personnel and chose not to celebrate near them. If that had been Keane scoring that one it would have taken five stewards five whole minutes to drag him out of the sea of replica tops.

Now it was game on all the way to the finish, the finish being fourteen minutes away. Who would prevail? Us or them?

Well, the answer was neither. Despite the fact a replay would add one more game to our already punishing schedule, I was very satisfied with the outcome. As long as we get our moment in the third round spotlight, I don’t really care how many games it takes.

Best chance of the finale went to us, and it came straight after the leveller funnily enough. Poole was again the architect, dancing down the left before pulling back for Bowditch to ram home. The ball did go in the net but the ref ruled it out for a shove by Bowditch on Vincent just before he received the pass. I must admit; I went ape at the ref when I realised it was being chalked off, then felt embarrassed later on when I saw the replay. It was indeed a foul. Fair enough, ref.

Anyway, as Gerald Sinstadt might say, we all meet again Wednesday week.

--------

FULL TIME (att - 3064)

Cheltenham Town 1 (Schofield 63)

Luton Town 1 (Spencer 75)

--------

Sign In

Luton Town : Staring into the Abyss

Recommended Posts

Link to post

Share on other sites

Top Posters In This Topic

Top Posters In This Topic

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites

Link to post

Share on other sites