With the Vice Chairman still recovering from his Isle of Wight experience and Coach Stalley on transport duty with his golfing son, Coach Wilson has to bear the brunt of the early-arriving Model’s claims, myths and downright lies about his goal at Woking a week and a bit ago.

‘It was a spectacular effort from the half way line,’ he says. ‘An out-of-this-world half volley,’ he says. ‘A goal of the season contender (and it’s only November),’ he says. ‘Six down, four and two,’ comes the reply. ‘What?’ asks the model. ‘Four and two,’ explains CW. ‘A request made to someone to stop talking, particularly while other people are trying to do The Times crossword. Any ideas?’

This morning’s melodic renditions include a nice little ditty that includes most people’s names and positions, in addition to a number of old favourites that need no explanation here. The noise levels are up, as the Covid Three (think Guildford Four, Famous Five, Secret Seven, Commandments Ten & Dirty Dozen) are back in situ, while The Philosopher is doing his best to make the staff of the Argos loudspeaker department redundant by midday. ‘How long till the services?’ enquires someone from Longlevens. ‘About four and a quarter hours,’ comes the reply, a riposte that at least gives us ten seconds of relative calm while the cogs grind to the conclusion that maybe we’re not going to Michael Wood until we’re half way back.

The changing rooms at the rear end of the Park & Ride remain Covid-closed, which, if anyone’s ever been inside the outbuildings that comprise the Bath branch of Stalag Forty-Two before, you’ll realise this isn’t a bad thing at all. Using a combination of our host’s shipping container-cum-storage hut and a patch of damp grass to remove tracky bottoms and tracky tops and put on predominantly hideously-coloured footwear, shin pads and, in two cases, gloves(?) is far, far safer than trusting the interior of the aforementioned prisoner of war camp, where escaping with a dose of bubonic plague is the least of your worries. Aquae Sulis is a genuinely lovely place, but this is Lansdown Park & Ride, which is an environment as far removed from the bubbling waters of the Thermae Spa and stained-glass windows of the seventh century abbey of the city’s lower reaches as Jacob Bennett’s mask is from his nasal passages during most of the journeys to date this season.

The Unmasked Singer loses yet another round of rock, paper, scissors, but still gets his wish to play up the slope in the first half. When the game finally gets underway however, it seems an eternity before we actually touch the ball as the hosts pass and move to good effect. NJH again impresses at the back though and Folley too is in fine form, while both The Model and Vaile each contribute a couple of fine pieces of defending to keep the hosts at bay. In the fifteenth minute, and completely against the run of play, we take the lead as Bennett’s effort is fumbled in by the home keeper, whose concentration has momentarily wavered, probably due to his mum walking their brand-new puppy behind his goal at the most inopportune of moments. ‘Get in,’ shouts Folley, though no-one’s sure whether he’s celebrating the goal or eyeing up the fluffy morsel as an hors d’oeuvres prior to indulging in the forthcoming main course at Michael Wood.

A fine pass from Manning gives the returning Buckland the chance to run at the Bath defence and when he’s upended in the box, The Physio slots home the resulting spot kick. ‘I used both fastidiously and squalls in my writing this week,’ he informed us after training last night, ‘and my teacher writ (sic): “These are good words, Tommy, but what do they mean?” It’s a fair point, but hopefully Miss O’Grady will work on his understanding of the transitive verb next week to prevent any further bloomers in his descriptive language.

Right on half time, just after White’s drive has been saved by the keeper, Bennett’s determination sees him notch his second and his team’s third score of the half, forcing the ball in at the back post. ‘I got 45 out of 50 in my SPAG test this week,’ he will tell us later on and hopefully he’ll also tell Manning that a writ is something you’re served with when you’ve done something wrong, rather than something your teacher has penned at the bottom of your work. Peasant.

The second half follows a similar pattern to the first, with Bath enjoying the majority of possession and Gloucester defending with a real determination to not let the hosts back into the game. With The Model now charging around the midfield, Mclarney turns in a solid performance at right back alongside the impressive NJH, while Manning and Buckland share the left back duties. With the hosts piling forward at every opportunity, the visitors fashion several late opportunities – Brooks and Bennett are both involved as Clifford bags our fourth with eight minutes remaining, before Bobby sees a fine effort strike both posts before rebounding agonisingly to safety. He’s not impressed.

Opta Stats will later reveal it’s been a case of 20% of the possession and 100% of the goals. As Charles Dickens might have described the scene that’s just unfolded: It’s been ‘A Tale of Two Goalkeepers’. Thank goodness the ending wasn’t quite as gory.

The full-time analysis is memorable mostly for a fine shimmy from Vaile, who skips imperceptibly past two defenders to take up a position next to the Kit Kat box, ready to wrap his fingers around a red & white wrapper the second Coach Wilson adds a full stop to what he’s saying. ‘Full stop?’ queries Mclarney, remembering someone mentioned the word ‘Sentence’ during diary time on the Dinosaur Isle around nine days ago.

Clifford, who wanted to play in his tracksuit bottoms an hour and a bit earlier, now strolls back to the bus in a pair of shorts and sliders and little else, looking remarkably like one of those beleaguered Brits on the last day of an 18-21 fortnight in Benidorm. Beside the bus itself, Vaile looks pretty scary in his skull-emblazoned face mask, while White is doing a fine impression of a druid, shortly before the Wicker Man is set alight.

Michael Wood, and only four people decide to visit KFC – Brooks [you still owe me £7.30, by the way], Vaile, Manning & Mclarney. It’s good to see the remainder of the throng adopting a semi-healthy lifestyle by paying homage to the Subway outlet, which is situated next door. The Model treats himself to a horrific 12” concoction of ham, sweetcorn, ketchup, cheese & chicken, 25% of which is left on his cherubic face, while NJH imbibes a foot-long Meatball Marinara without dropping a single globule of whatever foul sauce the minced intestines are floating in. Each considers a future career in party tricks, but for completely different reasons.

The last leg of the journey home follows a rather predictable course. As we turn right at the lights by the King Teddy, the Singing Skipper rallies the choristers to give it their all for the last sixty seconds. ‘Particularly as we approach the library and turn left into The Elms,’ he says. It doesn’t quite work out as expected, as we pull up outside the front gates to the school and the eagerly anticipated final rendition to the parents will have to wait for another fortnight at least.

While Triple B + 1 is left to reflect that no-one wants to collect him, everyone else can look back on a pretty successful day all round. We didn’t have to use the facilities of Stalag 42, we won the game and kept a clean sheet, no-one’s (yet) gone down with gastroenteritis after devouring a ten-foot Italian and The Earth, Our Planet, Our Home, is still intact. If only just.

Gloucester A: The Philosopher, The Model, NJH, The Skull; Super Mac, The Singing Skipper, The Bingo Caller, The Physio; The Genealogist; The Buckland, The Druid.