Team changes.

A number of teams have struggled in past weeks and are in the process of being replaced. The ones named are Fusion, Soca and Roar.

Seaburn Soca (Wear Consulting) 2 Roker Roar (Bunker) 0.
Both Seaburn and Roker have been removed from the league, mainly due to unreliability. In place came Wear Consulting, a previous entrant from a few seasons ago and Roker were represented by Bunker. Wear will eventually take over Redhouse Fusion and it’s likely we’ll have a four team Semi Final play off to decide the finalists (all on one night).

Redhouse Rockets 3 Soul Cal 3.
Last time out, Rockets conceded five goals against Sassco but still won the game. This time against Soul Cal, they conceded three but couldn’t get the three points as Soul Cal cancelled them out.

Soul Cal 5 Redhouse Storm 2.
A fiery game. Soul Cal had one player “sin binned”, but still managed to run out winners in a successful night. 

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“Are we there yet? Are we there yet? Are we there yet?”

It was the usual one hundred and one texts the night before, but these were all from Tim.

1. Is the plan to check-in online?
2. We going to try and get seats together?
3. Everybody all sorted to go?
4. Am I making a video again?
5. We still only got five players?
6. Who’s playing in goal?
7. Do I need to check-in myself?
8. You got Sassco stuff for Mark?
9. Where are we meeting?

Also, as we only have five going on tour, Tim actually asked the same questions to all four other players around four or five times. So instead of in Portugal, where he probably asked all fourteen players a single question, we were hammered with question after question.

In any case, Mark Edmondson kept up the traditions held dear by Cresswell / McDermont / Greenwell / Muers, by staying out until 3am, therefore making himself and Tim late for check-in.

We all got on board easily enough and I couldn’t be arsed to video anything. I also forgot my memory card for the camera, so that spared a lot of photography (still can’t get used to the damn camera).

We landed in good time and undertook a massive taxi trip to the apartment and barely had time to dump our gear before popping out for something to eat and then passed the local supermarket to get some supplies.

The first game was against Port de Barcelona. A long trip to the port saw us facing a strong looking team playing Futsal. The digital scoreboard and timer was up and the horns announced kick off. They scored early, but Tim fired in the equaliser. We just couldn’t get used to the game and were 7-1 down by half-time. Getting the ball out wide and launching it into the box for the big man to nod on didn’t work.

By the time we got used to it, we had scored another seven goals, but eventually lost 14-8. We missed loads of chances. Tim’s hyperactivity kicked in and he was the star of the show with a hat-trick.

Port de Barcelona 14 Sassco.co.uk 8
Davinder Sangha
Tim Gillespie 3
Scott Hembrough 2
Dave Gourlay 2
Mark Edmondson 1

Afterwards, we took a taxi down to the harbour and watched Mark Edmondson and Tim Gillespie have man-orgasms eating plenty of fish food. I just went for the chicken.

Also, late at night, when Tim returned to the apartment, apparently he just stood staring at a wall for a good few minutes.

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FC Ferreiras 0 Sassco.co.uk 2.

A more relaxed morning. The long day the night before took it out of us. Si and Hembrough were having breakfast at a place called Betty Boop, next to the pub which was due to have the SAFC game on. Me and Harper wandered along and tasted the local cuisine and culture by choosing something called “a full English.”

No sign of the others until we got back to the hotel. Cresswell claimed he’d had a blow job off someone who Muers later described as looking like Kenwyne Jones. Muers himself was nearly involved in a flare up when his bosom buddy told a big, scary looking bloke he was a cage fighter. The bout was due to take place on Saturday night. Emu also encountered a Transvestite. Think he got his or hers number.

The long walk to the pick-up point. The squad relax before the game to watch Ferreiras first team in action. The flag goes up. Note Dixon’s duds. Apparently, he wore the same ones for all four days.

A few cliques were beginning to show within the team. Dave Smith clearly had Cressy as his “bitch.” He’s began to force Cressy to make his breakfast as well as tidying up his apartment room. Although when Cressy didn’t do a good job, Dave emptied his suitcase on the floor. We also discovered that the theory of Cressy’s gullibility is true. The theory is that if two people say the same thing, he believes it. I convinced him that we were playing the afternoon game on concrete, and by the time we’d walked a hundred metres I had told him it was indoors in a gym hall and we were going to play two games on Sunday; back-to-back.

Cresswell taking a throw in.

In the Dixon, McConville, Gourlay room, Dixon had been relegated to a cold cubby hole while McConville and Gourlay were in the separate, warmer section. “Three’s a crowd” said Dave G, while the exciteable Dixon tried to snuggle amongst them. Paul is also increasingly being referred to as a “Mincer” A term coined up by Mulvaney. The whole squad is frightened to be accused of this now.

Half time team talk with Sassco firmly in command.

After breakfast, we went on a wild goose chase to find Harper some cheap sun tan lotion. An hour out, we still didn’t have any, so it was pool time. Harper then made a critical error and decided to jump into the pool. The only way I can describe it is like someone hoying a house into the pool. The error he made was that he did his calf in and spent the rest of the day walking around like a Tellitubbie. It was at this time that Emu had to bum more cash.

We caught the Sunderland game at a local bar and then trailed up to be picked up. We arrived at the FC Ferreiras stadium and had time to watch a local, lower division game containing plenty of diving and play acting and typical Latin temperament.

I was warned by Gary Thomas that our opponents today, FC Ferreiras (a representative team) would complain to the referee constantly. However, the game wasn’t too bad. Greenwell fired in a bullet free-kick to put us ahead. Ironically, we performed poorly. Passing was terrible and we never picked out the right man. Eventually, Scott Hembrough scored the second goal and we were coasting.

By the second half, Emu had to come off after an inept performance, with him suffering blisters. I came on and it kicked off (not literally, but metaphorically). We were closing in on a second goal as we now started to dominate, when Dave Gourlay had a tangle with their player. They shook hands and it was over, but then the Manager of Ferrieras (who was playing) started saying, “Any more and game abandoned.” Shockingly it occurred. Much to the bemusement of his players, he walked off and said it was abandoned. This time I steamed in calling him a “soft bastard” “Soft Shite” and probably “Mincer” somewhere in there.

I have a theory why it was called off. Back in 1961, India expelled the Portuguese from Goa using military action. The Portuguese weren’t pleased, but they could do f**k all. Once their manager saw me coming on, he though not again. There’s no way our 2-0 win over Ferreiras would be classed as the biggest thing to happen since the 1961 victory and bottled it. That’s my theory anyway. It’s probably bollocks and the Ferreiras Manager was simply an aforementioned “Mincer”.

We had a few cold drinks in the bar afterwards where I was given a Ferreiras pennant. Harper dared me to burn it infront of them.

Party night. We all went to the Old Town and had a large meal and then over to some local bars. I drunk more than I normally do and started to feel the effects. Scotty H had left straight after the meal as his guts were rumbling. Greenwell discovered some Lesbians in a bar and was compelled by them (video footage of his wide eyed reaction uploaded soon). Marky and Bianca left just after midnight so I did the same. Was fine and relaxed in bed looking forward to some sleep when I began to throw up my guts. Did me a world of good. Bit light headed, but then the wankers started to ring the door bell when they started floating in. “A farce!” mumbled the comatose Harper in his sleep.

The main points scored in the evening was Davey Smith bringing a bird back to his room. Greenwell asked for some and was told, “f**k off you little twerp!” Greenwell also made the fatal mistake of falling asleep in Cressy’s room. He was completely smothered in toothpaste, chocolate and ice. He had a Crunchie bar and Maltesers rammed up his backside and ice cubes stuck in as well. It was all caught on video and his screams were unearthly. A modified video will be posted shortly.

Also, I’ll be banging on the dick heads’ doors 9:00am in the morning. Revenge is sweet.

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The final set of games for the AGUK Super League take place on Tuesday 23rd to decide the Semi Finalists. Both Sassco and Hendon will most likely be joining them, however, Wear Consulting, who are at the foot of the table, still have an outside chance. They definitely need a win from one of their games against AA and Sassco. This would mean that IPS really need a point to be almost sure, but their opponents are AA Fabrications, so a defeat is likely – as long as they don’t concede too many goals.

If Wear win both their games, then it’s down to goal difference, with Hendon the likely losers. If IPS defeat AA Fabrications, then that means all the teams below AA would have six points.

The semi final line up on the 30th June is 1st v 4th place and 2nd v 3rd place. It’s likely that the final game will also be played on the same night around 8:15pm.

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Hendon get two back to back wins!

A night which saw Murton summarily dismissed from the field (possibly never to be seen again – as predicted) and Hendon Rovers gain two magnificent and unexpected wins.

Hendon Rovers 2 IPS 1
Hendon were in for a long night with two games being played back-to-back. The first was against IPS and Wayne Ramsay managed to bag two goals before Michael Vincent reduced the arrears, but IPS failed to get the all-important equaliser.

Hendon Rovers 3 Wear Consulting 2
The second game for Hendon was against Wear Consulting, who now featured Gary Tyzack. In a very open game, Richard Hall scored and Lee Ramsay also bagged one. Tyzack also scored; twice he claims. Unfortunately, one was an own goal. Mick Hall also scored, but in the very last minute the aforementioned Lee Ramsay scored the winner in an exciting game. It seems to proves that playing back-to-back games seems to be working well.

AA Fabrications 9 Sassco.co.uk 0

Once the third goal went in, Sassco collapsed and AA took over. Four goals came from Josh Lay and two came from Kurt Baxendale. Woody, Danni Lay and Mark Moon scored the other single goals. To his utter humiliation, David Murton was dismissed for bad language and now misses Sassco’s next game.

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Searing heat combined with massive hangovers.

The morning game was rough. I started due to Emu blowing out of his arse for the previous one. Cressy was well out of it with a hangover. The little spotty virgin could barely handle it. Luckily, Marky’s Missus, Bianca, was on hand to record the games. To be honest, had she not been there, it likely we wouldn’t have recorded the footage we had, so many thanks go out to her and also a medal for suffering a bunch of fuckwits making an arse of themselves. Ironically, she was much better at recording than me, because I tend to look up and bollock Emu, while play is going on elsewhere.

Cressy had to go off for Emu, but then I was blowing out of my backside after seventy minutes and we dragged Cressy back on. The eventual loss was 4-0. After the game we spent a bit of time at the stadium with a few drinks where I managed to meet Pierre Azzopardi, the person who’d arranged the perfect tour.

Back after the game, it was fun time. Macca and Cressy crept into Emu’s room and doused him in shaving foam. Completely fast asleep and all recorded on camera.
The big shock of the day was Dixon’s new look. The closest we could say was a sort of candidate to assassinate Obama. A red neck, yokel with a straw in his mouth. “Just call me….Digga,” he growled during the night.

We also went to watch the SAFC match at a local pub where Emu was demonstrating the microcosmic version of the English Lout, shouting and balling at the screen when Sunderland lost. Actually, when Defoe scored, he shouted, “I hope you die, you gap toothed twat,” while Greenwell was sitting next to him. No consideration whatsoever.

Then it was the night out. The place was St. Julians, and I’m not exaggerating when I say it was wall to wall pussy of the finest kind. The problem was that they were all so fucking miserable, there was no chance for any of the single lads. I think you’d need a subway sized cock (and make it a foot long) encrusted in ribbed diamonds and balls the size of Emu’s head to get any joy. Cressy did actually snare a young un, but like his passing and link up play, the thick cunt lost her in the crowd. Also, apparently he was nearly in luck with another girl, until someone told her he was only 14.

We actually started off in Fuego to see Ken Camilleri the Manager of XFM, Malta’s local radio station and also the manager of the bar. We got a full set of free drinks and spent a good hour in there smoking the pipes of peace and generally pissing off the locals in for a “quiet” drink.

It was then to the bar where Cressy got (and lost) his bird. Ironically, it was the similar pattern to his facebook relationships. He announces he’s in a relationship, then when you press CTRL and F5 around four times, she’s dumped him. This was the bar where the birds were dancing on the table and where Scott Hembrough was bumping his arse with a fine looking one in denim. Yet, when he turned his back, he was bumping it with a fat heffer and nearly shite himself when he turned around five minutes later. Scott also nearly revealed his thong, but it was way too dark.

A bar later, we all crushed Emu as he was seating in a comfy chair. I then tried to give him some Vodka and coke, but because I was rapidly getting drunk, poured it into into his eye instead. Greenwell’s chat up line was, “How you doing?” in the manner of Joey from Friends. He actually sounded like Watto, the flying slave trader who looked like a turd from the first Star Wars film – Episode One.

Then, the infamous lap dancing bar. I saw a taxi rank and it being 2:30am, as well as me drinking more in one night than I have in five years, I decided to conclude the night. Marky Mark and Bianca had left just before me as well. In the club, an anonymous person spent around 60 Euros on three lap dances. He then asked the fancy bird for a suck which cost an extra 30 Euro. This resulted in three sucks before she fucked off with his cash. Arse!

Another bright spark spent around 40 Euro on champagne and a flat chested bit of stuff on his knee. “like an ironing board with two cherries on top,” was his description. Finally, everyone chipped in around 20 Euro each to get Scotty an on-stage dance. He did all the Sassco lads proud when he dropped his pants for the bird, exposing his thong. Apparently, the look on her face was priceless. Not that I was there to see it.

They all went into some strange dingy bar where Emu was banging his head on the wall as well as all of them writing on the wall before realising there was a CCTV camera in the top corner watching them.

The trip back to the hotel for some of the players was scary, as they got in with Ridge Racer, who was blaring out some loud music while driving a tad bit too fast. Ironically, Paul McConville nearly caused a fight at the start of the night when he ordered two taxis by mistake. Both the taxi drivers nearly laid into each other. When Muers and co came back to the hotel, it was partially locked. They managed to creep in while Greenwell did his “Manuel” impression behind the counter while dishing out the keys. The hotel porter eventually came down and Dave Smith called him a “dirty, perving bastard,” as he was probably sneaking in and out of someone’s room.

Cressy and Macca, being quite clever, locked their door before the night began, but being thick as pig shit, left their key at reception, where Muers and Greenwell asked for it and sneaked in and shaving foamed the entire room, their boots and all. Greenwell was ready to take a dump in the cushions, but Emu stopped him for some reason. I’m really worried that I’m going to get a call from the Hotel when back in England, saying that a shocked cleaner found a steaming turd in the third drawer from the left. It wouldn’t surprise me because the room was lifting.

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