‘You could be sued for libel, you know.’

‘But do you like the blog?’

No answer.

Try a slightly different tack. ‘So, do you like reading the match reports?’

‘Is that what they are?’

‘They’re accounts of the week’s events. A bit of football, a bit of banter, a bit of, well, fun?’

‘I prefer factual things.’

The ex-Chairman is far too nice to say that he dislikes this bit of the web site intensely and if it wasn’t for a bit of blood bonding with this season’s topics, he wouldn’t go within a butcher’s mile of it. So, in view of my dear friend’s wishes and, probably far more importantly, in an effort to offset imminent legal proceedings, factual is what tonight’s resume will try to be.

It’s a wild and windy evening at GL2, but the amazing SET UP team of Father Eagle, Father Smith, Father Liddell and Father Jones, none of whom are Benedictine monks as has been previously intimated, are on the job the moment they arrive and the boards are out in double-quick time. The Groundsman, who today’s not suffering from another alphabetical medical condition (largely due to there being no local car boot sale on Thursday afternoons) has not only marked and cut the hallowed turf, but stacked the signs outside too, which is a great help to all concerned.

Rich, our grounds’ consultant from King’s has arrived, removes a clod from the House End of the pitch and declares the field leatherjacket-free, which is good news as a combination of Spring fertiliser, second seeding and precipitation galore has ensured everything is greening up extremely nicely.

The Chef, who looks nothing like Bruce Forsyth, has replaced his genuinely premium pork sausages with Aldi chicken dippers tonight, while The Lens, who has never operated a money-making scam in his life isn’t here, primarily because he’s busy selling ‘extremely cheap’ photos at the Cheltenham Mayor’s summer ball from late afternoon until just past the witching hour.

Young Liddell, who actually isn’t a Freemason at all, but does enjoy the odd funny handshake and displays a strangely endearing penchant for perfectly sanitized buffalo horns, has let Tuffley Tom’s follicular artistry deteriorate even further over the past five days, so that his barnet’s now even more ordinary than it was at the weekend, much to the disappointment of several of the team’s coaches.

‘Facts, please,’ pleads the ex-Chairman.

‘It’s true,’ says Coach Stalley.

Smiffy, whose love of the third decimal place has been slightly exaggerated in previous articles and the non-Freemason have taken part in a 45-minute pre-match kickabout before the other players arrive to ensure they’re properly prepared. Now, though, it’s time for the NF to lead the official warm-up once more. ‘Every time I’ve done this, we’ve won,’ he nods, and as such, everyone else is happy to join in.

We have a Gerry Adams lookalike serving the teas and coffees today, which upsets the ex-Chair hugely as it was he who was once famously mistaken for the notorious Irish republican politician.

‘Opinion,’ whispers the ex-Ch. ‘But only the first bit,’ comes the reply.

Wolverhampton are excellent from first minute till last. Technically adept, they play with both pace and purpose and take a seventh-minute lead when their right winger stands a delightful ball up to the far post for a simple header that few sides would be able to defend.

The hosts, though offering little in terms of a goal threat compete well, until, somewhat out of the blue, they equalise on twenty minutes when Rhodes’s free kick nicks off a defender’s thatch before nestling in the far corner. ‘It was on target,’ comes the explanation sixty minutes later, these four little words being delivered with more than a touch of absolute finality. ‘And that’s a fact,’ he concludes. There’s an inference from the interviewer that maybe half a goal each for both attacker and defender might be the proper way to go, but the brief, laser-eyed stare that accompanies ‘the fact’, made while biting a premium chicken dipper belligerently in half, suggests the discussion is well and truly over. ‘0.5,’ observes Two-Foot, sadly proving that the three-decimal-place honour placed on him back in September was indeed a bit of an exaggeration. The ex-Chair rolls his eyes, but is secretly thrilled to hear a confession of sorts.

And two minutes later, Captain Cooper’s driven effort from 25 yards finds the self-same far corner, sending Mother Steadman into raptures of uncontrolled delight. ‘That wasn’t Jonty,’ corrects local legend Jody Bevan, who’s standing next to her, his soothing tones and gentle shoulder tap achieving the desired calming result. ‘Though it was the same bit of netting it hit,’ he offers as a consolation.

Wolves level following a delightful turn and chip into the far corner four minutes before a sadly chocolate-less interval, during which the storm clouds gather behind, rather than in front of, Coach Stalley’s three lions’ logo and embossed ‘FA Coach’ lettering.

Two goals in three second half minutes, with an excellent save from Marvin in between, sees Wolverhampton, now with the considerable wind at their back regain the ascendancy, but the city side continue to battle hard regardless. In the home backline, Hurricane makes two fine interceptions to halt the visitors’ left-sided incursions, while Man for All Seasons reads the game well to prevent much gold & black progress through the middle. On the left, Black Boots Dix more than holds his own against Wolves’ tricky right winger, while seeking to clip NF in whenever he has the opportunity.

While Wolverhampton have considerably more of the ball, the hosts create a number of half chances, Monty Don twice going close, a weaving run from Two-Foot nearly opening up the away defence, another Steadman free kick flashing just wide of the far post and Liddell seeing his close-range effort cleared off the line. 4-3 might have made the last ten minutes interesting, but Wolverhampton clinch a quarter final place with a fifth goal four minutes from time to run out worthy winners.

Man for All Seasons announces, amidst a mouthful of chicken dipper afterwards, that they’re doing algebra at Upton St Leonards this week, but fails to identify the value of x in the equation 4x + 4 = 36, answering the question with a frown rather than a number. ‘8,’ announces Hurricane gleefully, suggesting that Hillview, after all, is a pretty good school. Two x squared plus 3 = 75 floors both Hillview and Dinglewell Barnard, as he would be referred to if he were appearing on a kids’ version of University Challenge. The pair’s mumbled responses, which sound like a solution might be in the offing (but everyone knows this isn’t really the case), suggest they’ve spent too many lockdown evenings watching Boris J at a Downing Street press conference. Monty Don looks as if he might offer an answer while munching a heavily ketchup-ed chip, but apart from whispering something about bonsais, remains pretty much silent when it comes to proffering a solution. Captain Cooper and the NF don’t continue Saturday’s discourse about planetary orbits and the Solar System, having now accepted that to get to Mars, you’ll have to drive your rocket around the moon.

‘Is any of this stuff true?’ asks the ex-Chair, in a tone that suggests he thinks it probably isn’t.

‘All except the moon bit,’ clarifies Coach Wilson, ‘unless you go in November, of course.’

Weatherwise, it’s been a cold, wet and genuinely miserable evening. We’ve lost 5-2, gone out of the National Cup and seen our six-match winning run ended in emphatic fashion.

But lots of people have contributed to getting the game on, setting up and dismantling the stadium, sorting the refreshments and supporting the team through chattering teeth beneath windswept brollies. Everyone’s appreciated the quality of the Wolverhampton players and no-one’s shelled out for a photo.

On the pitch, despite being faced with a highly-skilled opponent, no-one’s given anything less than a hundred per cent, no-one’s shirked a challenge and no-one’s ever considered throwing in the towel. ‘It is your reaction to adversity, not the adversity itself, that determines how your life’s story will develop,’ said the German aviator and esteemed philosopher, Dieter F. Uchtdorf. Based on this Teutonic edict and the events of a late May evening, the people of GPSFA are moving forward well.

And that’s a fact.

Gloucester: Marvin; Not quite a Freemason, Man for All Seasons, Black Boots Dix; Triple B, Captain Cooper, Jonty Rhodes, Two-Foot/Sixty Centimetres; Monty Don; Hillview Hurricane.