Numbers
Day One
Arlo’s is awash with black & yellow; there’s a breakfast in the pan, a chocolate in the hand and Franks is hovering in the general direction of Burger King. Coach Wilson and The Photographer indulge in a full fry-up with potato rosti. How very British.
For people of a certain vintage, Speenhamland sounds like something out of a Monty Python sketch, but no-one in black & yellow is laughing when Newbury take a 53-second lead, Gloucester parting as one, Moses running through the breach and rolling the game’s central feature into the bottom corner. The First Knight looks particularly evil, eleven up for a few hours only and already one down.
The visitors respond well, Mustoe finding the gap at the other end on several occasions, but the leveller doesn’t transpire until the midfielder decides that if a job needs doing, do it yourself, and taking a pass from Mitchell, rifles a fierce drive into the top of the net.
Mustoe then repays the favour, Mitchell profiting with a neat finish that looks even neater in the cameraman’s all-seeing lens and it’s 2-1 at Jaffa Cake time.
Newbury have a dangerous centre forward, if that’s what they’re called these days, but The Alliance handle him well after the break and Billy BS extends the lead from the spot after being bowled over in the box. The same player boosts the advantage yet further with a fine strike from twenty yards (18.3 metres for those under the age of 18) and then goes one better from another penalty after Mitchell is bowled over - and then everyone is bowled over as the Birthday Treble is completed.
Less than bowled over however is Franks, a fine volleyed finish from Broadhurst 53 seconds from the final whistle giving a touch of symmetry to proceedings, but inking a blot on the custodian’s personal tally chart of misery (goals conceded), which he enjoys not one little bit - as all good keepers shouldn’t.
There’s a playground cake, hot dogs, Scarface wondering whether he’ll score on his soon-to-be birthday, a rescued first aid kit and lots of smiles afterwards, though not necessarily in that order, followed by a seamless drive to the Red Funnel terminal in Southampton. Photos are taken in the ferry’s outdoor Pet Area, Mitchell consumes hugely in a temporary show of eating bravado and Nureyev completes the hour-long voyage without losing anything.
First stop, Alum Bay, The Weatherman having to accompany the vertigo-ridden coach on the chairlift descent over the sandstone cliff, before a boat trip round the spectacular Needles is accompanied by a fragmented commentary that does little to threaten John Motson’s standing, even in his fiftieth and final year with the BBC.
‘Don’t look down,’ instructs The Weatherman on the way back up, ‘How long now?’ enquires Nureyev two minutes after leaving the car park and ‘I can’t believe we conceded two,’ laments Franks, who is clearly still suffering from Post Traumatic Goal Disorder, despite now being overseas and temporarily residing in a foreign land.
Almost everyone eats almost everything at the evening meal, with varying levels of maternal appreciation of their son’s capabilities and characters obvious from their respective dinner table performances. ‘Our Teddy’s sweet enough,’ proves unerringly accurate as he investigates, inverts and re-inspects his jam sponge before leaving it completely intact, its contents never threatened with coming into contact with even the tiniest drop of (Michael) Fish-like saliva. ‘Kyron’s the King (of eating)’ was heard reverberating around the cloisters of Longlevens just three days ago, but the pattern on his plate is only partly visible due to the half-burger in a bap still nestling there. In stark contrast, and at the other end of the table, Pargeter’s plate pattern isn’t visible at all, because he’s eaten it.
Mustoe dons a garish top and spends twenty minutes styling his thatch, before discovering we’re going to Sandown Pier where fashion and hairstyles are mid-60s at best. Outside the arcade, Nureyev spends an age on the phone and Big Sam follows suit, both protagonists blaming their parents for talking too much, but no-one believes them. Adichareh tries most of the machines, plays Adventure Golf and spends nothing. Mustoe tries most of the machines, plays Adventure Golf and spends loads, before seeking urgent advice on financial planning. Adichareh smiles knowingly before starting a new game while ensuring his wallet remains full.
Day Two
Friday is a day when Catalonia announces its independence but Canvey Island doesn’t, much to the disappointment of the rest of Essex.
Mitchell displays an early-morning aversion to crusts and loses any claims to nutritional nobility as well as another eating point while Mustoe, his Harewoodian friend and ally, displays an aversion to Rice Krispies by dropping them all on the restaurant floor before attempting to count all 832 pods back into the plastic container. It’s the only time Moaning Lisa’s mouth inverts during the three days away, so things are looking up. Or down, on this occasion. Big Sam displays a working knowledge of fractions that should hugely impress the Dinglewell hierarchy, while Adichareh explains his mathematical thinking with both eloquence and erudition. Unfortunately, most of his answers are wrong. ‘It’ll rain today,’ says Michael Fish, as the sun beams down from a cloudless sky.
Blackgang Chine, and first up it’s ‘Find the Weatherman’, hunters Adichareh and Franks pouncing barely twenty seconds after spending ten minutes locating the hedge maze entrance. There are dinosaurs aplenty in addition to those in the squad, a crooked house, haunted mansion, a cowboy town with a jail boasting a bevy of new inmates and a snakes & ladders slide on which Pargeter manages to injure himself in order to get some TLC from Coach Wilson.
Next up is Water Force, pedometers in overdrive as the charge up the tower follows a three-second rest after rafts come to end-of-descent standstills. Nureyev, having pondered long and hard over the (medical) attention received by Pargeter half an hour earlier, seeks sympathy after pirouetting out of his inflatable and claiming he’s hurt his leg. Everyone ignores him, so he runs up the tower instead.
Cliffhanger attracts all bar Franks who forsakes the rollercoaster for an extra stint on the water slides and earns himself instant recognition as a man of strong mind and admirable principle. The shop attracts everyone, some of whom are more driven to buy presents for loved ones at home than others. Three people invest in sticks of Island Rock for their absent relations, but eat them before the tour ends. Adichareh buys lots without spending anything.
Robin Hill Country Park, and Mustoe and Franks each gain an extra ‘attitude mark’ by voluntarily collecting lunch time drinks and straws for their respective eating groups. Scarface doesn’t gain extra marks for anything because, as the world and his mate knows, he’s always nice. Everyone ensures everyone else has crisps they like, one of many selfless acts that would have delighted Sir Thomas More if he’d been writing his great book today. Mitchell further compounds his mum’s aristocratic claims by leaving a sandwich and putting a small human dent into the work of the distinguished sixteenth century author.
The wooden Maze Race is tied at one-all, but the First Knight, having gained inspiration from Big Joe’s coin-calling success on Monday morning, goes tales up and his team win the deciding charge at a canter, as all groups going right to left annually do.
There is a tug-of-war and a falconry display, ‘Safari tag’ in an ‘African’ adventure playground, low bridges over water, a delightful woodland valley that no-one notices and a fifteen-minute queue for the toboggan run but no-one minds the wait. Apart from Pargeter that is, who spends the entire time being appalled by the recurring, incorrect use of the apostrophe on all the building’s expensively assembled signage. Also appalling is the paucity of momentum he generates on the toboggan run itself, where his only chance of receiving a speeding fine is for a complete lack of it.
A big net up a big tree sees more tag and the ‘Colossus’ pirate ship sees Mustoe retire temporarily from the fray before returning for one final stomach-wrenching churn. Franks is far too sensible to contemplate a drive back with a sick bag in one hand and a bottle of Volvic in the other and watches from a distance, while mentally calculating that his goals against record is now one every 48.2 minutes. If it hadn’t been for that late Newbury strike, it would have been 1 : 53.3, which would have been far more palatable in the grand scheme of JF goalkeeping things.
Swimming is prefaced by a post-chicken nuggets series of revelations, most of which must remain secret for a whole variety of reasons. Franks however demonstrates an ability to remember the name of each and every one of the Key Stage Two pupils that attend Longlevens School as well as most people that don’t, Nureyev tells the story of a free kick that only found the top corner due to the intervention of Storm Doris and Pargeter claims that everyone in the world who’s called Kaylum lives in Brockworth. Other disclosures involve a Charlotte, a Sophie and a Tracey, amongst others, but thankfully only one of the players christens himself Margaret. Adichareh meanwhile, reveals absolutely nothing about the mysteries of his financial acumen, while surreptitiously counting the coinage that’s stacked high in his secret pocket with the first and second fingers of his right hand.
Day Three
The eight-thirty ferry means an early Saturday morning breakfast, but there’s no change from Mitchell who has swapped white toast for brown but still leaves the crusts. Minus (another) eating mark. Michael Fish takes offence at his egg yolk after carefully dissecting the rest of the offering and Scarface drops from equal first to seventh in the EFL (Eating Food League) after declining half a slice of Mother’s Pride on his big day. He also leaves the birthday card signed by the team in his room and is deducted another point, illustrating that age and lack of memory are potentially related. Nureyev, the oldest member of the team, supplies the proof.
Mustoe and Big Sam lead the way in the mini bus sleeping stakes and there is trepidation on the ferry that the previous day’s exertions may prove to be detrimental to the upcoming performance of the team when they take on Portsmouth.
The concerns are short-lived, however. Franks produces two fine pieces of goalkeeping, one in each half, mentally calculating his updated average minutes-per-goal-conceded ratio after each intervention, while reciting the 480-strong register of LJS in a variety of orders and formats while the ball is at the other end.
Michael Fish, Margaret and Big Sam meanwhile play the pair of Portsmouth players who are each bigger than the entire Alliance put together excellently, while on twenty minutes Big Sam sneaks forward before combining with the First Knight and Mitchell to set up Adichareh to fire home the opener.
Nureyev, along with the First Knight is performing admirably in the centre of midfield and with Scarface, Mustoe and Mitchell all doing well out wide, the situation is promising. Adichareh, meanwhile, spies a man with a purse standing behind the Pompey goal and finds that his speed and direction have doubled since Thursday when the sight of an unpopulated grass bank and a big prickly hedge did little to stimulate his neurological pound signs.
The man with the purse changes ends at the interval and Adichareh remains inspired, whipping in a corner that the First Knight heads home and then taking a pass from Scarface to drive in number three. The Portsmouth management, sensing the issue and realising, one might feel slightly too late, that you must never, ever trust a man with a purse, usher the problem from behind the net and two minutes later Adichareh too is ushered from the fray, his motivation visibly declining at a rate too great for even Franks to calculate.
Not a problem, the First Knight and Michael Fish both strike the Pompey woodwork before the industrious Nureyev sees his effort well saved by the Pompey keeper, only for Mustoe to follow up and finish well from a narrow angle.
And then the great moment arrives. Activity in the centre with Billy in there somewhere leads to Mitchell supplying his fourth assist of the tour and Scarface sweeping home a Birthday Goal with his standing foot at the back post. Even Franks joins in the celebration, taking time out from his decimal division to give the team’s third oldest member a pat on the head and eleven claps on the back.
The effort, the performance and the result all combine to round off a great few days. Franks is happy, he’s kept his sixth clean sheet and can now recite the names of the entire population of Longford Lane, including the new estate, without pausing for a single breath. Michael Fish has maintained his hundred per cent record of failed climatic forecasts, Big Sam has put his managerial career on hold for a while and decided to continue playing for a few more months yet, while Margaret has proudly stated his intention of applying for a slow car licence on the eve of his seventeenth birthday.
Scarface and the First Knight are both a year older, a year wiser and as yet no more forgetful than they were in their younger days and Nureyev is just as old and just as forgetful as when he arrived. By leaving half his belongings on the island and coming back with a bag that’s only half as heavy as the one he left Gloucester with, shows his wisdom is probably far greater now than some might give him credit for.
Moaning Lisa did it only once and for about ninety seconds max; Franks and Big Sam can work out what the ratio of that to the 56 hours away is, but the answer will probably be not very much. Mitchell finishes top of the assists, but bottom of the eating, while Adichareh spends a fortune, yet has more money on Saturday afternoon than he had on Thursday morning.
Numbers, numbers, numbers. Four fab midfielders, three fab defenders, two fab strikers, one fab goalkeeper and a partridge in a pear tree.
Happy days.
Gloucester: Franks; Michael Fish, Margaret, Big Sam; No-Moaning Lisa, Nureyev, Billy Ballet Shoes, Scarface; Mitchell, Adichareh.
Arlo’s is awash with black & yellow; there’s a breakfast in the pan, a chocolate in the hand and Franks is hovering in the general direction of Burger King. Coach Wilson and The Photographer indulge in a full fry-up with potato rosti. How very British.
For people of a certain vintage, Speenhamland sounds like something out of a Monty Python sketch, but no-one in black & yellow is laughing when Newbury take a 53-second lead, Gloucester parting as one, Moses running through the breach and rolling the game’s central feature into the bottom corner. The First Knight looks particularly evil, eleven up for a few hours only and already one down.
The visitors respond well, Mustoe finding the gap at the other end on several occasions, but the leveller doesn’t transpire until the midfielder decides that if a job needs doing, do it yourself, and taking a pass from Mitchell, rifles a fierce drive into the top of the net.
Mustoe then repays the favour, Mitchell profiting with a neat finish that looks even neater in the cameraman’s all-seeing lens and it’s 2-1 at Jaffa Cake time.
Newbury have a dangerous centre forward, if that’s what they’re called these days, but The Alliance handle him well after the break and Billy BS extends the lead from the spot after being bowled over in the box. The same player boosts the advantage yet further with a fine strike from twenty yards (18.3 metres for those under the age of 18) and then goes one better from another penalty after Mitchell is bowled over - and then everyone is bowled over as the Birthday Treble is completed.
Less than bowled over however is Franks, a fine volleyed finish from Broadhurst 53 seconds from the final whistle giving a touch of symmetry to proceedings, but inking a blot on the custodian’s personal tally chart of misery (goals conceded), which he enjoys not one little bit - as all good keepers shouldn’t.
There’s a playground cake, hot dogs, Scarface wondering whether he’ll score on his soon-to-be birthday, a rescued first aid kit and lots of smiles afterwards, though not necessarily in that order, followed by a seamless drive to the Red Funnel terminal in Southampton. Photos are taken in the ferry’s outdoor Pet Area, Mitchell consumes hugely in a temporary show of eating bravado and Nureyev completes the hour-long voyage without losing anything.
First stop, Alum Bay, The Weatherman having to accompany the vertigo-ridden coach on the chairlift descent over the sandstone cliff, before a boat trip round the spectacular Needles is accompanied by a fragmented commentary that does little to threaten John Motson’s standing, even in his fiftieth and final year with the BBC.
‘Don’t look down,’ instructs The Weatherman on the way back up, ‘How long now?’ enquires Nureyev two minutes after leaving the car park and ‘I can’t believe we conceded two,’ laments Franks, who is clearly still suffering from Post Traumatic Goal Disorder, despite now being overseas and temporarily residing in a foreign land.
Almost everyone eats almost everything at the evening meal, with varying levels of maternal appreciation of their son’s capabilities and characters obvious from their respective dinner table performances. ‘Our Teddy’s sweet enough,’ proves unerringly accurate as he investigates, inverts and re-inspects his jam sponge before leaving it completely intact, its contents never threatened with coming into contact with even the tiniest drop of (Michael) Fish-like saliva. ‘Kyron’s the King (of eating)’ was heard reverberating around the cloisters of Longlevens just three days ago, but the pattern on his plate is only partly visible due to the half-burger in a bap still nestling there. In stark contrast, and at the other end of the table, Pargeter’s plate pattern isn’t visible at all, because he’s eaten it.
Mustoe dons a garish top and spends twenty minutes styling his thatch, before discovering we’re going to Sandown Pier where fashion and hairstyles are mid-60s at best. Outside the arcade, Nureyev spends an age on the phone and Big Sam follows suit, both protagonists blaming their parents for talking too much, but no-one believes them. Adichareh tries most of the machines, plays Adventure Golf and spends nothing. Mustoe tries most of the machines, plays Adventure Golf and spends loads, before seeking urgent advice on financial planning. Adichareh smiles knowingly before starting a new game while ensuring his wallet remains full.
Day Two
Friday is a day when Catalonia announces its independence but Canvey Island doesn’t, much to the disappointment of the rest of Essex.
Mitchell displays an early-morning aversion to crusts and loses any claims to nutritional nobility as well as another eating point while Mustoe, his Harewoodian friend and ally, displays an aversion to Rice Krispies by dropping them all on the restaurant floor before attempting to count all 832 pods back into the plastic container. It’s the only time Moaning Lisa’s mouth inverts during the three days away, so things are looking up. Or down, on this occasion. Big Sam displays a working knowledge of fractions that should hugely impress the Dinglewell hierarchy, while Adichareh explains his mathematical thinking with both eloquence and erudition. Unfortunately, most of his answers are wrong. ‘It’ll rain today,’ says Michael Fish, as the sun beams down from a cloudless sky.
Blackgang Chine, and first up it’s ‘Find the Weatherman’, hunters Adichareh and Franks pouncing barely twenty seconds after spending ten minutes locating the hedge maze entrance. There are dinosaurs aplenty in addition to those in the squad, a crooked house, haunted mansion, a cowboy town with a jail boasting a bevy of new inmates and a snakes & ladders slide on which Pargeter manages to injure himself in order to get some TLC from Coach Wilson.
Next up is Water Force, pedometers in overdrive as the charge up the tower follows a three-second rest after rafts come to end-of-descent standstills. Nureyev, having pondered long and hard over the (medical) attention received by Pargeter half an hour earlier, seeks sympathy after pirouetting out of his inflatable and claiming he’s hurt his leg. Everyone ignores him, so he runs up the tower instead.
Cliffhanger attracts all bar Franks who forsakes the rollercoaster for an extra stint on the water slides and earns himself instant recognition as a man of strong mind and admirable principle. The shop attracts everyone, some of whom are more driven to buy presents for loved ones at home than others. Three people invest in sticks of Island Rock for their absent relations, but eat them before the tour ends. Adichareh buys lots without spending anything.
Robin Hill Country Park, and Mustoe and Franks each gain an extra ‘attitude mark’ by voluntarily collecting lunch time drinks and straws for their respective eating groups. Scarface doesn’t gain extra marks for anything because, as the world and his mate knows, he’s always nice. Everyone ensures everyone else has crisps they like, one of many selfless acts that would have delighted Sir Thomas More if he’d been writing his great book today. Mitchell further compounds his mum’s aristocratic claims by leaving a sandwich and putting a small human dent into the work of the distinguished sixteenth century author.
The wooden Maze Race is tied at one-all, but the First Knight, having gained inspiration from Big Joe’s coin-calling success on Monday morning, goes tales up and his team win the deciding charge at a canter, as all groups going right to left annually do.
There is a tug-of-war and a falconry display, ‘Safari tag’ in an ‘African’ adventure playground, low bridges over water, a delightful woodland valley that no-one notices and a fifteen-minute queue for the toboggan run but no-one minds the wait. Apart from Pargeter that is, who spends the entire time being appalled by the recurring, incorrect use of the apostrophe on all the building’s expensively assembled signage. Also appalling is the paucity of momentum he generates on the toboggan run itself, where his only chance of receiving a speeding fine is for a complete lack of it.
A big net up a big tree sees more tag and the ‘Colossus’ pirate ship sees Mustoe retire temporarily from the fray before returning for one final stomach-wrenching churn. Franks is far too sensible to contemplate a drive back with a sick bag in one hand and a bottle of Volvic in the other and watches from a distance, while mentally calculating that his goals against record is now one every 48.2 minutes. If it hadn’t been for that late Newbury strike, it would have been 1 : 53.3, which would have been far more palatable in the grand scheme of JF goalkeeping things.
Swimming is prefaced by a post-chicken nuggets series of revelations, most of which must remain secret for a whole variety of reasons. Franks however demonstrates an ability to remember the name of each and every one of the Key Stage Two pupils that attend Longlevens School as well as most people that don’t, Nureyev tells the story of a free kick that only found the top corner due to the intervention of Storm Doris and Pargeter claims that everyone in the world who’s called Kaylum lives in Brockworth. Other disclosures involve a Charlotte, a Sophie and a Tracey, amongst others, but thankfully only one of the players christens himself Margaret. Adichareh meanwhile, reveals absolutely nothing about the mysteries of his financial acumen, while surreptitiously counting the coinage that’s stacked high in his secret pocket with the first and second fingers of his right hand.
Day Three
The eight-thirty ferry means an early Saturday morning breakfast, but there’s no change from Mitchell who has swapped white toast for brown but still leaves the crusts. Minus (another) eating mark. Michael Fish takes offence at his egg yolk after carefully dissecting the rest of the offering and Scarface drops from equal first to seventh in the EFL (Eating Food League) after declining half a slice of Mother’s Pride on his big day. He also leaves the birthday card signed by the team in his room and is deducted another point, illustrating that age and lack of memory are potentially related. Nureyev, the oldest member of the team, supplies the proof.
Mustoe and Big Sam lead the way in the mini bus sleeping stakes and there is trepidation on the ferry that the previous day’s exertions may prove to be detrimental to the upcoming performance of the team when they take on Portsmouth.
The concerns are short-lived, however. Franks produces two fine pieces of goalkeeping, one in each half, mentally calculating his updated average minutes-per-goal-conceded ratio after each intervention, while reciting the 480-strong register of LJS in a variety of orders and formats while the ball is at the other end.
Michael Fish, Margaret and Big Sam meanwhile play the pair of Portsmouth players who are each bigger than the entire Alliance put together excellently, while on twenty minutes Big Sam sneaks forward before combining with the First Knight and Mitchell to set up Adichareh to fire home the opener.
Nureyev, along with the First Knight is performing admirably in the centre of midfield and with Scarface, Mustoe and Mitchell all doing well out wide, the situation is promising. Adichareh, meanwhile, spies a man with a purse standing behind the Pompey goal and finds that his speed and direction have doubled since Thursday when the sight of an unpopulated grass bank and a big prickly hedge did little to stimulate his neurological pound signs.
The man with the purse changes ends at the interval and Adichareh remains inspired, whipping in a corner that the First Knight heads home and then taking a pass from Scarface to drive in number three. The Portsmouth management, sensing the issue and realising, one might feel slightly too late, that you must never, ever trust a man with a purse, usher the problem from behind the net and two minutes later Adichareh too is ushered from the fray, his motivation visibly declining at a rate too great for even Franks to calculate.
Not a problem, the First Knight and Michael Fish both strike the Pompey woodwork before the industrious Nureyev sees his effort well saved by the Pompey keeper, only for Mustoe to follow up and finish well from a narrow angle.
And then the great moment arrives. Activity in the centre with Billy in there somewhere leads to Mitchell supplying his fourth assist of the tour and Scarface sweeping home a Birthday Goal with his standing foot at the back post. Even Franks joins in the celebration, taking time out from his decimal division to give the team’s third oldest member a pat on the head and eleven claps on the back.
The effort, the performance and the result all combine to round off a great few days. Franks is happy, he’s kept his sixth clean sheet and can now recite the names of the entire population of Longford Lane, including the new estate, without pausing for a single breath. Michael Fish has maintained his hundred per cent record of failed climatic forecasts, Big Sam has put his managerial career on hold for a while and decided to continue playing for a few more months yet, while Margaret has proudly stated his intention of applying for a slow car licence on the eve of his seventeenth birthday.
Scarface and the First Knight are both a year older, a year wiser and as yet no more forgetful than they were in their younger days and Nureyev is just as old and just as forgetful as when he arrived. By leaving half his belongings on the island and coming back with a bag that’s only half as heavy as the one he left Gloucester with, shows his wisdom is probably far greater now than some might give him credit for.
Moaning Lisa did it only once and for about ninety seconds max; Franks and Big Sam can work out what the ratio of that to the 56 hours away is, but the answer will probably be not very much. Mitchell finishes top of the assists, but bottom of the eating, while Adichareh spends a fortune, yet has more money on Saturday afternoon than he had on Thursday morning.
Numbers, numbers, numbers. Four fab midfielders, three fab defenders, two fab strikers, one fab goalkeeper and a partridge in a pear tree.
Happy days.
Gloucester: Franks; Michael Fish, Margaret, Big Sam; No-Moaning Lisa, Nureyev, Billy Ballet Shoes, Scarface; Mitchell, Adichareh.
