Parsimonious
Dark days. The Chairman’s interestingly titled (Non-League) Fantasy League entry, Parsimonious Two, is currently sitting in a pretty healthy 212th position in the mid-November league table, just ahead of Edna’s Wild Woman and just behind Harry’s Earooos, whoever they are. 212th might not sound that impressive, but as there are 1,219 entries this season, this puts him well inside the top 20% and looking good for the equivalent of at least a Europa League spot. GPSFA 1, on the other hand, an interesting team with a mysterious owner, is lurking way back in 974th which, however you look at it, is flirting with would-be relegation, only there’s nothing below this league and therefore, thankfully, there’s nowhere lower to go.
The padlock works, but the groundsman’s not here, which means we can get in without being subjected to the gory details of the grass cutter’s latest Alimentary Ailments, which was clearly what he was referring to when he phoned up in midweek to say he’d just joined the AA. The Photographer’s racked up nice and early though, his damaged shoulder having had a week’s R & R due to Sandra locking his bank statements in the bedroom safe and hiding the key between pages 2 & 3 of his long-redundant cheque book.
The ‘Big 4’ construction team ensure everything’s up and running in plenty of time and the bacon rolls are doing the rounds as Thurrock arrive nice and early with their girls’ squad, having camped out at the Barnwood Premier Inn the previous evening. The home team however are well on top in the first half and go into the break well ahead on the possession stats and three goals to the good with FB netting twice. Thurrock respond strongly in the second half however and pull a couple back late on, but it’s 4-2 at the final whistle and a Southern Counties semi final spot is well and truly assured.
Following straight on, black & yellow line up next to blue & white in the Levens tunnel as the boys look to emulate what has just gone before. JC’s finally back in the starting line-up following his month-long kip and is immediately involved in some neat link-up play with Hine down the left, culminating in an effort that bounces off the top of the Pompey crossbar.
Bevan and Bennett are calling most of the shots in central midfield and the pair eventually orchestrate the opening goal on twenty minutes, Bennett’s lay-off and Bevan’s drive resulting in the ball nestling perfectly in the bottom right-hand corner. The score comes barely seven seconds after Croose and Simpson have replaced Beaumont and Ali and despite the former modelling a cheesy grin and nodding constantly for three whole minutes following the strike, the substitution had nothing at all to do with the goal as neither player was anywhere near the decisive action.
Brockbank is looking good at the centre of the Gloucester backline and along with two from three of Curtis, Simmo and Beaumont, limits the visitors to just a couple of quarter attempts on Ansermoz’s goal prior to the interval. On the sidelines, the break comes in the nick of time for Triple A, as he’s just about to lose his nineteenth consecutive game of Hangman to fellow benchman Beaumont. OB is far too nice to press for the nice round twenty however, preferring on this occasion to begin his lexical quest at the end of the alphabet, rather than wrapping up yet another victory before getting anywhere near the letter ‘B’.
Flushed by his recent success, OB busies himself at the interval by opening the jaffas and sorting the jellies, before Hine comes along and executes all the orange ones without a single thought relating to either compassion or mercy.
There is a slight lull in intensity during the opening minutes of the second period as the need to digest the half time feast takes over, but all’s well within seconds of the blue bench stopwatch striking forty. As the digital ‘4’ and a ‘0’ made of four straight lines appear on the watch-face display, both Simmo and OB are ready, waiting and pawing the ground like demented bulls scenting a defenceless matador, as Bevan’s free kick is only half saved by the keeper and Bennett pounces to double the lead and provide a bit of breathing space for the black & yellows.
It’s now Hine’s turn to press the stopwatch buttons, invert the contraption and give it a good old shake before coming to the disappointing conclusion that whatever he does won’t make it get to fifty any faster. ‘And there’s no orange ones left,’ he laments in the general direction of Curtis, who’s doing his level best to ignore the protestations and concentrate on restoring three of his perfectly gelled hair follicles to the position he’d spent several early-morning hours sticking them in. ‘Wish I hadn’t headed that ball,’ laments Curtis, in the general direction of Hine, who’s doing his level best to ignore the protestations and concentrate on counting to 60, then doing it all over again for the seventh consecutive time.
Back in the middle, Triple A has latched on to a pass from Bevan to grab his tenth score of the campaign following the most nonchalant of movements, having now discovered a game he actually likes playing. ‘W?’ asks OB in the middle of the goal celebration, causing Hangman to momentarily drop his seemingly permanent smile while planning a bout of appropriate verbal retribution.
Milton, who’s been ever-more influential as the game’s gone on, produces a great cross from the right that Croose converts with a textbook header, but the striker has strayed a couple of feet offside, much to the disappointment of the photographer, who has captured the assist, the execution and the distant thought that the Sunday Times Sports Photo of the Year award could just be heading to Abbotswood Road at a point in the very near future. And maybe there’s a cash prize involved as well….
Hine’s back in the fray, having passed the stopwatch to Bevan, who’s yet to realise it makes no difference at all to him as he’s not going to be coming back on. Croose meanwhile profits from some fine approach play involving Milton and Bennett by driving powerfully into the bottom corner before vainly searching out The Photographer’s lens, only to realise he’s back in the pavilion next to his big red money making machine, trying to convince some bloke from Thurrock who hasn’t realised the rest of the gang left an hour ago, to get involved in his latest ‘One Pic for the Price of Two’ scam.
Bennett’s a happy man at the final whistle as he claims to have been involved in all four Gloucester goals, though nobody takes any notice whatsoever of his claims and counter-claims. ‘And will that run of mine in the fifty-third minute when I beat the entire Portsmouth team four times in just twenty seven seconds be in this week’s blog?’ he counters, before realising that Coach Wilson’s eyes have rolled so far to the north that his pupils are lost somewhere behind his forehead, and elects to remain completely silent for the next half an hour at least.
In the eating room the coffee & walnut creams don’t receive the rapturous reception they might have done, but The Chairman’s quite happy as he’s had his beady eye on them ever since they arrived on the refreshment counter alongside Christine’s flapjacks. ‘I might just buy a couple of those and take them home for the family,’ he muses, while making a very public display of checking every one of his jacket bolt-holes and shaking his head as if to say, ‘I really shouldn’t have put all my cash in that charity bottle,’ before surreptitiously clicking his pocket padlock shut, sliding the key under his watchstrap and grabbing hold of both boxes of confectionery anyway.
The Photographer’s busy counting his ill-gotten gains as the chairs are stacked and the floors are swept. A single penny falls from his grasp, causing him to scrabble around under the old formica table to retrieve the small brown coin from beneath the corner plug socket and stick it back in his grossly bulging wallet.
Beaumont, the only player with a wide enough vocabulary to know what it means, looks at the Chairman and nods, ‘Parsimonious Two.’ He then glances at The Photographer, nods again, then offers, ‘and you’re parsimonious too.’ ‘Thanks Ollie,’ smiles the Photographer, completely oblivious to the insinuation, ‘and how do you fancy buying a couple of photos? I can do you a pretty good deal….’
Gloucester A: Ansermoz; Beaumont, Brockbank, Curtis; Milton, Bevan, Bennett, Hine; Triple A; Simpson, Croose.
The padlock works, but the groundsman’s not here, which means we can get in without being subjected to the gory details of the grass cutter’s latest Alimentary Ailments, which was clearly what he was referring to when he phoned up in midweek to say he’d just joined the AA. The Photographer’s racked up nice and early though, his damaged shoulder having had a week’s R & R due to Sandra locking his bank statements in the bedroom safe and hiding the key between pages 2 & 3 of his long-redundant cheque book.
The ‘Big 4’ construction team ensure everything’s up and running in plenty of time and the bacon rolls are doing the rounds as Thurrock arrive nice and early with their girls’ squad, having camped out at the Barnwood Premier Inn the previous evening. The home team however are well on top in the first half and go into the break well ahead on the possession stats and three goals to the good with FB netting twice. Thurrock respond strongly in the second half however and pull a couple back late on, but it’s 4-2 at the final whistle and a Southern Counties semi final spot is well and truly assured.
Following straight on, black & yellow line up next to blue & white in the Levens tunnel as the boys look to emulate what has just gone before. JC’s finally back in the starting line-up following his month-long kip and is immediately involved in some neat link-up play with Hine down the left, culminating in an effort that bounces off the top of the Pompey crossbar.
Bevan and Bennett are calling most of the shots in central midfield and the pair eventually orchestrate the opening goal on twenty minutes, Bennett’s lay-off and Bevan’s drive resulting in the ball nestling perfectly in the bottom right-hand corner. The score comes barely seven seconds after Croose and Simpson have replaced Beaumont and Ali and despite the former modelling a cheesy grin and nodding constantly for three whole minutes following the strike, the substitution had nothing at all to do with the goal as neither player was anywhere near the decisive action.
Brockbank is looking good at the centre of the Gloucester backline and along with two from three of Curtis, Simmo and Beaumont, limits the visitors to just a couple of quarter attempts on Ansermoz’s goal prior to the interval. On the sidelines, the break comes in the nick of time for Triple A, as he’s just about to lose his nineteenth consecutive game of Hangman to fellow benchman Beaumont. OB is far too nice to press for the nice round twenty however, preferring on this occasion to begin his lexical quest at the end of the alphabet, rather than wrapping up yet another victory before getting anywhere near the letter ‘B’.
Flushed by his recent success, OB busies himself at the interval by opening the jaffas and sorting the jellies, before Hine comes along and executes all the orange ones without a single thought relating to either compassion or mercy.
There is a slight lull in intensity during the opening minutes of the second period as the need to digest the half time feast takes over, but all’s well within seconds of the blue bench stopwatch striking forty. As the digital ‘4’ and a ‘0’ made of four straight lines appear on the watch-face display, both Simmo and OB are ready, waiting and pawing the ground like demented bulls scenting a defenceless matador, as Bevan’s free kick is only half saved by the keeper and Bennett pounces to double the lead and provide a bit of breathing space for the black & yellows.
It’s now Hine’s turn to press the stopwatch buttons, invert the contraption and give it a good old shake before coming to the disappointing conclusion that whatever he does won’t make it get to fifty any faster. ‘And there’s no orange ones left,’ he laments in the general direction of Curtis, who’s doing his level best to ignore the protestations and concentrate on restoring three of his perfectly gelled hair follicles to the position he’d spent several early-morning hours sticking them in. ‘Wish I hadn’t headed that ball,’ laments Curtis, in the general direction of Hine, who’s doing his level best to ignore the protestations and concentrate on counting to 60, then doing it all over again for the seventh consecutive time.
Back in the middle, Triple A has latched on to a pass from Bevan to grab his tenth score of the campaign following the most nonchalant of movements, having now discovered a game he actually likes playing. ‘W?’ asks OB in the middle of the goal celebration, causing Hangman to momentarily drop his seemingly permanent smile while planning a bout of appropriate verbal retribution.
Milton, who’s been ever-more influential as the game’s gone on, produces a great cross from the right that Croose converts with a textbook header, but the striker has strayed a couple of feet offside, much to the disappointment of the photographer, who has captured the assist, the execution and the distant thought that the Sunday Times Sports Photo of the Year award could just be heading to Abbotswood Road at a point in the very near future. And maybe there’s a cash prize involved as well….
Hine’s back in the fray, having passed the stopwatch to Bevan, who’s yet to realise it makes no difference at all to him as he’s not going to be coming back on. Croose meanwhile profits from some fine approach play involving Milton and Bennett by driving powerfully into the bottom corner before vainly searching out The Photographer’s lens, only to realise he’s back in the pavilion next to his big red money making machine, trying to convince some bloke from Thurrock who hasn’t realised the rest of the gang left an hour ago, to get involved in his latest ‘One Pic for the Price of Two’ scam.
Bennett’s a happy man at the final whistle as he claims to have been involved in all four Gloucester goals, though nobody takes any notice whatsoever of his claims and counter-claims. ‘And will that run of mine in the fifty-third minute when I beat the entire Portsmouth team four times in just twenty seven seconds be in this week’s blog?’ he counters, before realising that Coach Wilson’s eyes have rolled so far to the north that his pupils are lost somewhere behind his forehead, and elects to remain completely silent for the next half an hour at least.
In the eating room the coffee & walnut creams don’t receive the rapturous reception they might have done, but The Chairman’s quite happy as he’s had his beady eye on them ever since they arrived on the refreshment counter alongside Christine’s flapjacks. ‘I might just buy a couple of those and take them home for the family,’ he muses, while making a very public display of checking every one of his jacket bolt-holes and shaking his head as if to say, ‘I really shouldn’t have put all my cash in that charity bottle,’ before surreptitiously clicking his pocket padlock shut, sliding the key under his watchstrap and grabbing hold of both boxes of confectionery anyway.
The Photographer’s busy counting his ill-gotten gains as the chairs are stacked and the floors are swept. A single penny falls from his grasp, causing him to scrabble around under the old formica table to retrieve the small brown coin from beneath the corner plug socket and stick it back in his grossly bulging wallet.
Beaumont, the only player with a wide enough vocabulary to know what it means, looks at the Chairman and nods, ‘Parsimonious Two.’ He then glances at The Photographer, nods again, then offers, ‘and you’re parsimonious too.’ ‘Thanks Ollie,’ smiles the Photographer, completely oblivious to the insinuation, ‘and how do you fancy buying a couple of photos? I can do you a pretty good deal….’
Gloucester A: Ansermoz; Beaumont, Brockbank, Curtis; Milton, Bevan, Bennett, Hine; Triple A; Simpson, Croose.
