Chocolate Review: Maltesers Teasers

From greatbritishfood.de

A big bar rather than a couple of small bars in the same packet, but rather odd bubble shapes for the individual pieces.  I have found in the past that the Maltesers in boxes of Celebrations more enjoyable than the ones you can buy in bags. I have no idea whether they actually taste different but it certainly seems that way.  I failed to make any notes on the bar while actually eating it, so I'm going to have to ad lib from memory.
      The taste was more like the Celebrations Maltesers than regular Maltesers, which was a bonus. Also, due to it being in bar form, there was a greater ration of chocolate to the 'malty' bits, again I see this as a plus, making it more susceptible to the savour test than spherical Maltesers, which are soon denuded of chocolate from sucking.
      In summary, an enjoyable bar, a sort of extended version of Celebrations' Maltesers.

Chocolate Review: Wispa Bits

From chocolatebuttons.co.uk

The premise of Wispa Bits is that they are, erm, bits of Wispa, the chocolate bar brought back 'by popular demand'.  I'm sure the packet I had was marked 'Wispa  Bits', but I can't find the photo and an internet search comes up with 'Wispa Bites' or 'Bitsa Wispa'.  I'm assuming as they're all perfectly shaped that this isn't a way of marketing misshapes and broken bits. They actually look a bit like children's building bricks, but with no way of connecting them, like Lego or Sticklebricks. However they taste like Cadbury's flake, despite the claim that "only the crumbliest flakiest chocolate..."  Whilst I hate the word 'moreish' - and I don't mean they're like Othello - but I found it very difficult to put the packet down.


Golden Years

Originally published in an edited form in Some Sunny Day Issue 2.

            This was originally planned as a sort of ‘misery memoir’, a form of literature that was recently popular, with the likes of Angela’s Ashes by Frank McCourt, which, surprisingly, had nothing to do with cricket.  Almost any long term follower of any football team could produce something along the lines of Colin Shindler’s Manchester United Ruined My Life, which was a shortened title which should have continued ‘by being really successful whilst Manchester City were a bit shit’.  He subsequently wrote a follow up, Manchester City Ruined My Life, about how the club’s take over by rich owners brought the Premiership title but removed the club from its original fan base. There’s no pleasing some people.  But it’s that sort of masochism that seems to unite football supporters.  As I say, I was going to cheer younger readers up with tales of being one of only five fans in the away end at Doncaster as City lost 6-1, how one of my mates got locked in at Bolton because they forgot that there were any away fans, how 14 of us arrived at Darlington to be told that the club had told Darlo they didn’t expect anyone to travel and we still outsung the home fans.  Yes, these and other stories of strikers who were more barn door than ballon d’or, midfielders who’d struggle to pass water and defenders who couldn’t tackle a toddler all form part of my anecdotage. Then I read a review of Shindler’s second book by Nicholas Blincoe in The Daily Telegraph which contained the sentence “If you are English, male and thinking of writing an autobiography, The Diary of a Nobody hovers over you like a huge, taunting clown’s face”. However, that may not stop me in future issues.

So has it really been that bad that ‘misery memoir’ is where you’d file a Pooterish version of watching City for over 40 years ?  Is the current season any worse than average ? Am I asking too many questions ?  In an egocentric, solipsistic style, I decided to look at the statistics since I was born – during a promotion season – to see what City’s average League position is and what has been the win ratio down the years.  And for added spice I’ve done the same for Argyle and Torquay.  If you were thrilled by the technical drawing in the last issue, prepare to be dazzled by graphs, pie charts and histograms (well, one of each actually).  And may I add the accountant’s rider of errors & omissions excepted ? And I do know of the existence of the book How To Lie With Statistics.
 

See graph above for the relevant finishing positions per season, reproduced too small for anybody to re-interpret them particularly in glorious monochrome. City’s average League position (and ‘League’ includes the Conference years) over the last 50 seasons is 76.66^th, that’s 8^th and two-thirds in  tier 4 (currently known as League 2), with a win percentage of 33.9%, 28% draws and 38.1% defeats (see pie chart right).   Argyle’s average position is 52.54 – 8 and a half in tier 3 (League 1) with W, D and L percentages of 34.7%, 27.2% and 38.1% whilst Torquay averaged 78.36^th position - 10^th and a third in tier 4 – with WDL percentages of 34.8%, 27.5% and 37.7%.  So Plymouth have the highest average position but also the highest percentage of defeats (38.08% to City’s 38.06%), Torquay have the lowest average position but the highest percentage of wins and City have the highest percentage of draws; I blame Colin Appleton .
When I say ‘average’, I mean the mean. For City, Argyle and Torquay the median (the middle one when placed in order) League positions are 78^th, 51.5^th and 79^th respectively (or 10^th in tier 4, 7.5^th in tier 3 and 11^th in tier 4).  For the sheer sport of it, I also looked at the modal League position (the position the side has finished most often) for the three Devon sides, City have finished 63^rd, 82^nd and 89^th three times each (19^th in tier 3, 14^th and 21^st in tier 4) and Argyle have finished 38^th, 52^nd and 59^th four times each (18^th in tier 2, 8^th and 15^th in tier 3).  When choosing to quote the modal average, I was hoping to be able to write “on average over the last 50 years, Torquay United have been bottom of the League” as I know they’ve finished 92nd four times. However they’ve been 77^th (9^th in tier 4) a phenomenal six times.   

My next hypothesis was that of those 50 seasons, City’s worst spell was the Nineties after relegation from the third tier.  Therefore I broke down the statistics into ten year periods.

Years	Average Lge Posn
1964-73	77.6
1974-83	64.6
1984-93	75.1
1994-2003	84.2
2004-13	81.8

 And this is where the glorious histograms, normally known as bar charts, come in (see left).  City’s highest loss percentage and lowest win percentage – the draw percentage is surprisingly stable – is for the period 1994 -2003, which, surprisingly seeing as City’s lowest positions are in the 5 seasons following 2003, is also the period of the lowest average position, The highest win percentage, possibly due to those Conference years, is in the last ten seasons.  Similar percentages to the 94-03  period would just about glean 50 points, often seen as the total necessary for survival.  I would therefore argue that this season is roughly average at the time of writing, although the draw percentage is a little low.  It could also be argued that the last ten seasons have been the most successful, certainly in terms of games won.

So, does anybody know what the sequel to Angela’s Ashes was called ?

 

Sexton A Blake

Chocolate Review: Club Gold

Apparently this is a regular Club bar but with a 'caramel flavour coating'.  The 'caramel' tastes like white chocolate and it's not gold but yellow - as you can see from the picture it looks more like a lump of cheese.
Despite these misgivings I found this an enjoyable bar, but less so than a regular milk chocolate Club.

Ground Swell

 

 Originally published in an edited form in Some Sunny Day Issue 2.

          It’s a slight irony that City have drawn Peterborough in the Cup, as it was at London Road many years ago that the most absurd set up to a tired punch line occurred. A friend and I, at his insistence, had a one-legged race from the turnstile to the tea hut.  He won, I fell over.  Obligingly the woman in the tea hut asked what we were doing and my friend said “We’re groundhoppers.”
            These days if you want to get to a ground, you can get directions from the internet.  The best I’ve yet seen are on Guildford City’s site where alongside the usual directions for car, train or bus they have “Helicopter: please contact the club if you wish to arrive by helicopter.” Also on their website is an offer of half price entry on presentation of a season ticket from any football club.
            Many moons past, I would attend almost every City game home and away and usually managed to take in around 60 games a season. I wouldn’t say I’ve ever been at the stage where I watch kids’ games in the local park but as long as a game is a relatively even contest I’m not that bothered about the level I’m watching – although I do get a bit miffed if they don’t produce a programme.
        

Tues 24^th Sep  Crediton United v Sidmouth Town.  Lords Meadow is a tidy, tree-lined ground that is very attractive despite being on an industrial estate next to a leisure centre.  There is a small stand and a terrace on the side nearest to the entrance.  On the far side is a stand that contains old café tables, one of the oddest things I’ve seen at a football ground as they are on the opposite side of the pitch to the tea hut.  I have been to Crediton several times now and find football at Peninsula League Division 1 level very relaxing, perhaps because I have no real commitment to it and can view it dispassionately.  Sadly, I forgot to take any notes and there are no reports on t’interweb to crib from.  All I can remember is that Crediton’s opener in a two-nil win was a corker from twenty yards, if there’d been a referee’s assessor at the game he would have got writers’ cramp and a very small lad trying to return the match ball to the keeper fell on his arse.

Sat 28^th Sep  Bristol City v Colchester United.  The day starts with my being woken by a thunderstorm. Smugly, I am happy that I do not have to set off for Fleetwood.  As the old wives tale goes, rain before seven, fine by eleven, and thundery showers was the forecast. I was also glad that I’d already made the decision to go to Ashton Gate rather than local league football as the rain was of biblical, match threatening proportions.  At  9am when I set off it was still pissing down. I could have waited a bit but had no idea when the deluge would stop.  I dodged the puddles and spray from passing cars on the way to the station.  It was a great way to find that my shoes leak.  Shouldn’t the day after the end of the cricket season be sunny ?  In Bristol it was raining but nothing like as badly as in Exeter.  I walked to the Gromit exhibition.  It was closed.  But then I was only interested to see if the queues were as long as they had been for the Banksy exhibition.  Opposite Bristol Museum there is a Subway next to a Wetherspoon; a fine juxtaposition.  After a ‘Spoons breakfast I made the pleasant riverside walk to Ashton Gate.   Again, a ground I’ve been to many times and I’ve now decided to sit regularly in the Williams Stand, or the Bird Shit Stand, as a friend calls it because he was crapped on at an evening game there.  The on loan Matt

Taylor is in Colchester’s team and Ryan Taylor is on the bench for the Robins. Matt Taylor is dominant in the air all game and scores Colchester’s goal from a poorly defended corner – Bristol City’s defending for the past couple of seasons has been utter dog toffee – but the Robins equalise through Sam Baldock, who could have won it near the end but fluffed his header. Ryan Taylor didn’t get on.  If the Robins move out to Ashton Vale it might prove trickier to get to for me and Bristol Manor Farm could become more attractive.  On the train home the guard announced “Crosscountry does not operate catering services in Cornwall” as if they feared that they might be ambushed if they carried food west of the Tamar. 

 

            With no local football to go to, I spent the week approaching the Donkey, sorry, Devon Derby biting the heads off green jelly babies.  And it may have been because of this that I was ‘followed’ by the police helicopter being 200 yards ahead of me all the way as I walked to the Park on that Saturday.

Tues 8^th Oct  Plans to go to Newton Abbot Spurs’ game against Sidmouth were scuppered because Spurs’ floodlights are currently not up to standard.

Mon 14^th Oct  Crediton United v Teignmouth.  Since my last visit they’ve finished ‘re-terracing’ the standing area with creosoted wood, and it could be the solvents in the creosote that were responsible for what I think I witnessed. The game was listed on both the website and in the programme as being on the Tuesday but had been moved because of the England game the next night.  It would have meant that a bizarre, see-saw game would’ve been seen by very few people indeed.  Teignmouth took the lead in the 8^th minute when the referee allowed play to continue after a foul had failed to bring down The Teigns right winger as he cut inside before placing a shot beyond the keeper.  The second was a deflected drive from former City trainee ‘Well Def’ Geoff Breslan and when they went three up with an audacious lob the game seemed over, even though Kirton pulled one back before half time with a curler from outside the area. 1-3 at half-time but a more even game than the scoreline would suggest, with the home side also have struck a post.  Credy pulled another back from a 20 yard free kick from Adam Bilcock, for which the sympathetic Teign lino commented “You shouldn’t have given away the foul” to his side’s defence.  Then the same player hit the post with another direct free kick before on 56 minutes the home side equalised when a corner was headed home at the far post.  Momentum now favoured Kirton, however,  the seaside town team got the next goal with a similar far post goal to Crediton’s equaliser, but from a free-kick.  Credy then pushed for a second equaliser leaving gaps at the back that allowed Teign striker Hayden Roe a clear run on goal to make it 5-3.  Crediton then made it 5-4 with a (presumably) practised corner to the right hand edge of the box for centre back Shaun Waring to sidefoot home.  And just when you might think they’d nick a point, Credy conceded another from a deft flick over the keeper after a sweeping passing move.  And that was how it ended.  Well Def Geoff tried a lot of fancy passes including one with the outside of his right boot from near the centre circle that hit the corner flag.

            I know this is meant to be about ground hopping and now I’ve done Crediton twice. I might as well do St James Park, I hear you say.

Wed 16th Oct  Exeter City v Exmouth Town, Edenvale Turf Ltd St Lukes Devon Challenge Cup.  What I used to like about the Bowl, as it’s still usually referred to, was visiting the non-league grounds, although trips to the wilds of North Devon could prove tricky for a non-driver.  Exmouth would’ve been one of the easier ones: train, bus, I could even walk it in a couple of hours.  However, I’m assuming a change of rules means that League clubs can get home draws before the semi-final stage this season and City were drawn at home.  I’ll bypass the need for a pen picture of the ground except to say that the number of ads for the main shirt sponsors make me wonder whether, if City were to follow Hull’s example and change name, the new moniker would be Flybe Knights.  But perhaps that would’ve been better suited to a previous regime. A young City side with a smattering of first team experience went a goal down on five minutes when a free-kick found Lewis Coombes unmarked at the far post.  The new scoreboard, reminiscent of Subbuteo games of my youth, was not on. I’m sure everybody was expecting one that would carry ads for the Kenjo Washeteria or whoever, and messages like “This corner sponsored by…”, “That manic shout of ‘gamble’ brought to you by…” or “That sliced shot bouncing down Oxford Road in association with…”  City replied soon after when a Tom Nichols free-kick was parried to Matt Jay, and then took the lead on 11 minutes when Jay again scored a poacher’s finish. It looked as though City were really going to run away with the game but there was no addition to the score before half time.  Early in the second half the splendidly named Ace High scored from close in at a time when I was still coming to terms with being told that away coach regular, Patrick, had asked the tea hut staff what kind of milk and sugar they used.  However, shortly after, Tom Nichols ran through to put City back in front. Late on Nichols sealed the win from the penalty spot after he’d been fouled – something I thought Tisdale didn’t like.  A disappointing crowd of 209 including a fair few Exmouth fans. Good entertainment for £4.

Sat 19^th Oct  Yeovil Town v Brighton.  The options when you arrive at Yeovil Junction in order to get into town are to take a suicidal walk down a country lane, get a taxi or take the bus.  I waited for the bus.  As the female bus driver and I are chatting while I try to find the exact fare because she has no change, the train from Waterloo pulls in and some Brighton fans get off.  “I hate football fans,” says she. I say nothing.   A fair number of the Brighton fans find the £2.40 single fare too expensive, so they get a taxi.  Maybe this is what has put the driver off football fans.  Intrepid soul that I am, I walk out to Huish Park, a not unpleasant, roughly 40 minute stroll.  It is whilst strolling that it occurs to me that the previous two times I’ve had a ticket for the Main Stand, Yeovil have won without conceding a goal; Yeovil’s record in the Championship thus far makes that an unlikely prospect.  Like any team coming up to the second tier – Peterborough being a prime example – they have two seasons to become all-seater as per the Championship’s ground requirements.  The Posh’s yo-yo existence means that they’ve dodged this particular criterion, and Yeovil’s start to the season implies

they might not need to comply either. However, Huish Park was built, even though The Glovers were then a non-League side, with the possibility of expansion at both terraced ends. Just before kick-off there is a cheer at the home end as the flag being passed across the Brighton end – think tricolour, but blue, white, blue – splits, with one of the blue sections parting from the rest of the flag.  The blue bit came in handy as a shelter when there was a rain storm just after kick off.  Dan Seaborne is on the bench for Yeovil.  The first half is dominated by a fine comedy performance from the referee, in the second half one of the linesmen hobbles off.  A game of few chances opens up in the last ten minutes as both teams realise that the three points are there for the taking, but neither team can score.  On the way back to the centre of town I pass the delightfully named Winking Frog Café.   

Wed 23^rd Oct  Exmouth Town v Elburton Villa.  No, I didn’t walk to Southern Road, I got a lift.  In the corner of the ground nearest to the station there are some donkeys (insert joke here), presumably used for beach rides during the summer.  If the game is poor, there are always the trains on the Avocet Line or people on the cycle path that runs alongside the tracks or even the cars on Marine Way, or the A376 as it’s less poetically known.  Between the ground and Marine Way there is a large ‘net’ style fence which would make an ideal place to hang the ‘Against Modern Football’ banner which would also prevent people from watching from the footpath there.  Southern Road has changed little in the last thirty-odd years except for the ‘new’ changing rooms.  On the railway side there is a rickety, covered wooden terrace that feels like it’s sinking when you stand in it, and alongside the dressing rooms is a breeze block stand with a handful of seats in, otherwise it is uncovered standing on a concrete path, apart from the set-back clubhouse.  Ace High is suspended and Exmouth’s players who are Royal Marines are required for an inter-unit tournament.  The first half is poor, but dominated by Elburton who hit the bar direct from a corner, have a long shot go just wide and are denied in a goalmouth scramble. Sitting in the breeze block stand I can clearly hear Richard Pears, Exmouth’s manager, ripping into his team. Possibly as a result, Town look much improved in the second half and soon have an effort cleared off the line.  They take the lead when a long ball forward is laid back for debutant Ed Palmer to score from a narrow angle after it looked like he’d over-run it. They go two up when a deep free kick is flick headed home by James Ansell. They nearly pinched a third when a shot from Alex Greening from the edge of the box hit the inside of the post and comes out.  Very late on Elburton pull one back with a James Bradley looping header across the keeper. 

            Thoughts of taking in Friday night’s Throgmorton Cup game between Crediton and Elmore were ditched when we found out that due to roadworks we’d need to go via Bickleigh.

            I shall be taking part in Movember, short for Mauricevember, by wearing a high viz jacket, walking like a velociraptor and shouting things like “crap”, “Norway” and “you can’t park here.”

 

 

 

 

Proper Chaps

Another piece originally published in Some Sunny Day, this is the unexpurgated version, although I don't think the published version was particularly heavily edited.

            It is well known that Paul Tisdale has said that he likes to employ proper chaps – he described Artur Krysiak as one when he signed him – but what makes a proper chap ? I looked for advice to The Chap magazine. I e-mailed the editor. He didn’t reply. Not much of a chap, then. Or maybe with all the recent national exposure – Mirror, Times, BBC – Tis is too big for The Chap.  Although from the national coverage it would seem that it is a challenge for anyone to write an article about Tisdale without using the word ‘dapper’.  However, on The Chap’s website they have a manifesto which may provide a few pointers.

 

Thou shalt always wear tweed:  Even Tisdale himself is unlikely to qualify under this. It looks like a fall at the first hurdle, as I expect it’s a fair while since City had a tweed wearing player, even though His Vintage Life magazine have recently declared “Yes, tweed is in.” However I doubt that any of today’s youth will be at a shopping centre near you soon with tweed trousers belted half way down their legs.

Thou shalt never not smoke:  Well, we’re on safer ground with this one after all the fuss surrounding Jack Wilshere.  On the cover of the 76 -77 promotion DVD, Tony Kellow can be seen having a post-match tab whilst pouring champagne into a paper cup. Whether Kellow was a ‘proper chap’ is a matter of conjecture.  I have no idea how many, if any, of course, of the current squad smoke. Disturbingly, I think The Chap may be referring to pipe smoking as a more refined, flamboyant intake of nicotine.  Oh, and  a Modern Grammarian would say ‘thou shalt never use a double negative’.

Thou shalt always be courteous to ladies:  Think I should put this down as ‘not tested’ and move swiftly on.  Last season we did have a loan player who was accused of not being at all courteous to a lady. He was acquitted.

Thou shalt never, ever wear pantaloons de Nimes:  Or denim jeans to you and me.  Well, obviously if you always wear tweed you’d never wear jeans. Now, it is my understanding that jeans were going out of fashion as the young people associate them with their parents and old fogeys, citing Jeremy Clarkson as an example – and I’d argue that Clarkson is definitely not a proper chap.  Hence I would think the current squad may have a lot of qualifiers under this criteria but a very high number of past players would dip out. 

Thou shalt always doff one’s hat: Ah, hats. Something else Tisdale specialises in.  Not sure the woollen versions as sported by John O’Flynn – or is that his hair dyed ? – really count.  I remember Stuart Storer wearing a broad brimmed hat that led to him being compared in We’ll Score Again to one of the characters in the film Tombstone about Wyatt Earp and the OK Corral.  As to the matter of doffing, Tisdale certainly didn’t doff his natty fake fur creation when he came into the away end at Norwich a few seasons ago. But it was damn cold.

Thou shalt never fasten the lowest button on thy weskit:  Who on earth habitually where’s a weskit, sorry, waistcoat these days ?  I wrote that shortly before watching a Match of the Day where then Palace manager Ian Holloway is wearing a waistcoat.  With the lowest button fastened. Then the following day I saw James Lance in one on a MoneySupermarket ad. Again fully buttoned. And shortly afterwards, in the video of Army Of Two, Olly Murs in a waistcoat with the lowest button undone. Maybe the weskit is also making a comeback.  Particularly if it’s tweed.

Thou shalt always speak properly:  I don’t know whether it is because they have media training these days but players when interviewed by TV always seem surprisingly eloquent.  Or perhaps I have particularly low expectations.  I think even Steve Tully’s, erm, shall we say ‘fruitier’ televisual comments might still pass muster with The Chap as their beef seems to be with textspeak and slang rather than profanity. Blates.

Thou shalt never wear plimsolls when not doing sport:  It then goes on to say that a chap wouldn’t be doing sport. I think only Neil Saunders may qualify on that count.  Although they do make an exception for cricket, so Mr Tisdale’s  Lords Taverners experience and the team that played Topsham St James would qualify.  I also believe past players like Jimmy Giles and Stuart Storer were useful cricketers, and remember seeing a charity match at the County Ground – the rugby ground – at the time that Kellow and Hatch played – and Graham Weeks lived almost next door to the ground.

Thou shalt always worship the trouser press:  I suspect the hotels City stay at probably don’t have a trouser press in the room. And, once again, I’d hazard a guess that only Mr Tisdale would use one.

Thou shalt always cultivate interesting facial hair:  This is clarified by The Chap as moustaches, so Tommy Doc and Pat Baldwin’s beards don’t quite make it. And designer stubble definitely doesn’t come up to the mark.  Peter Fox’s Ned Flanders impression may just sneak in, but Stuart Storer’s tache is a certain sign that he may well be a chap.  In fact there is probably a decent eleven or even full blown squad of moustached players in City’s history.  However, they’d all be fairly uniform and probably not qualify as ‘interesting’.

Arthur Ransome
Image via Medlar Press

            So what conclusions can we draw from The Chap manifesto with regard to what  a footballing version of a ‘proper chap’ may be ?  It would’ve been a damn sight easier in Arthur Chadwick’s time to find a moustached, hatted, waistcoated gent.  And what The Chap really seems to be aiming for is a latter-day Arthur Ransome, the author of Swallows and Amazons.  Most surprisingly of all, it would appear that Tis’s next signing is most likely someone who’s been recorded correctly wearing his waistcoat, has facial hair (albeit stubble), is known to wear hats and be courteous to ladies.  Extensive research (0.25 seconds on Google; other search engines are available) tells me that he was a striker at school, played in Soccer Aid and also played for Witham Town, currently in the Ryman League North and managed by former City loanee Garry Kimble. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I give you Mr Olly Murs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Blackstone Code: Episode 4

 

The story so far:  Professor Padraig O’Riordan, an expert in football cryptography at the University of Liffey (formerly Dublin Polytechnic), is visiting Preston when the curator of the National Football Museum, Jack Salter, is murdered, but Salter has mutilated himself in order to leave a clue.  Tara Farmer-Palmer (TF-P), the local constabulary’s football cryptographer, helps O’Riordan to escape from Chief Inspector Freddie Flintoff, who suspects that O’Riordan may be the culprit, in a Chieftain tank.  However, Flintoff and DS Jeremiah Fuzzyduck are in pursuit.  Now read on…

 

          The Chieftain tank turned onto the M6 Preston By-Pass.

          “OK, now we’re out of Preston, where do we go ?” asked T F-P.

          “Well, you know that cryptic clue that Jack Salter wrote on the floor in his own blood ?” said O’Riordan.

          “You mean ‘Blame sick token. Now sob true fish-face.’”

          “It’s an anagram of ‘Mike Blackstone.  The Brown Sauce Is Off.’”

          “So ?” queried T F-P.

          O’Riordan wondered why he had to explain all this to someone who was an expert in the same field as him.  But his sideline as a pulp novelist made him realise that to present it as a dialogue was the only way to avoid a long, dull explanatory paragraph.  However, this may look rather clumsy if it were to be made into a film without the help of a good script writer.

          “So,” said O’Riordan.  “That book is the key to everything.”

          “…and we’re going to Morecambe to see Mike Blackstone ?” interjected T F-P.

          The writer in O’Riordan calculated that it would be far easier to base a story on someone who was long since dead and with no living relatives.

          “No, I believe that Mike Blackstone is too secretive and will not be willing to talk about this.  And besides I think he’s at a Groundhoppers’ Weekend and Fleetwood Hesketh v. Crooklands Casuals is a 2am kick-off,” he said.  “But three people are acknowledged at the start of the book: Derek Coates, Hugh Elwood and Steve Field.  They may be able to help us.”

 

 

          Flintoff and Fuzzyduck were questioning Private Parts, who had ‘loaned’ O’Riordan and T F-P the Chieftain tank, at Kimberley Barracks.

          “So you say two people took the tank,” queried Flintoff.

          “Yes, yes,” stammered the young TA Private. “A man who said nothing and a woman, a posh woman, who said she was a Captain in the Queen’s Lancashire Regiment volunteers.”

          “Farmer-Palmer !” exclaimed Fuzzyduck.

          “Where did they go ?” barked Flintoff.

          “I don’t know !” replied the exasperated Pte Parts, now sweating profusely.

DI Flintoff suddenly burst into song for no apparent reason: “I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour, but heaven knows I’m miserable now.”

DS Fuzzyduck wondered whether he had suddenly become part of a Dennis Potter-style TV play, and that camp dancers dressed as policemen were about to flounce in, or whether to section Flintoff under the Mental Health Act.  Flintoff realised that there was no music playing and that no-one had joined in.  He coughed nervously and tried to pretend nothing had happened.

“Sir,” said Fuzzyduck.  “How difficult would it be to find a Chieftain tank in the middle of the night in Lancashire ?”

 

 

          O’Riordan pondered the three names.

          “Well, I believe Derek Coates lives on Merseyside and a Chieftain tank might not look out of place on the streets of Liverpool…” mused O’Riordan.

          “Maybe in the Eighties,” replied T F-P.

          “Besides, I think that he would just spin us one of his stories of non-existent City players from the Fifties…”

          “Hugh Elwood – The Teacher ! Of course !” cried T F-P.

          “But Newcastle’s a hell of a way to go at this time of night,” replied O’Riordan.

          “Then Steve Field it is,” said T F-P.  “Where does he live ?”

          “Not sure, but he did mention driving down the A6 to Leigh.  Have you got a map of Lancashire ?” asked O’Riordan.

          “What ? In a tank ? Where exactly ? In the glove box ?” snapped T F-P.

          “OK. OK. It may have been a stupid question. I think we may need to ditch the tank.”

 

 

          Flintoff and Fuzzyduck returned to the Incident Room in the National Football Museum.

          “Inform all officers to be on the look out for a Chieftain tank,” barked Flintoff.

          “And if they spot it, do you want to get O’Riordan and Farmer-Palmer in the interview room to see if they’ll sing ?” asked Fuzzyduck sarcastically.

          Flintoff glared at his junior unamused, but said nothing as he would never live it down back at the station.

 

 

          “If we get rid of the tank how do we get to Steve Field’s ?” queried T F-P.

          “Well,” said O’Riordan.  “I had planned to go to Carnforth Station, where they filmed Brief Encounter.  But that’s north of Morecambe, so let’s go to Lancaster (formerly known as Forton) Service Station, leave the tank and get a taxi.”

          “A taxi ? At this time of night ?!” said T F-P.

          “Well, it’s more likely than public transport.  We can have a coffee and I can tell you more about this whole thing.”

 

To be continued…

Any resemblance of any of the characters to any person, living or dead, particularly Steve Field, is purely coincidental.