Three lions and a Robin

The Mighty Hairy Ball Hang fc v HMP Erlstoke FC

Sunday football is a ritual played out everywhere and no more so seriously than by the athletes of The Mighty Hairy ball hang fc. Pre match the preparation of body and soul had started on the Saturday for the final match of the season v league winners HMP Erlstoke. Five hours of alcohol consumption was completed with a visit by the squad to the local Curry house gratis Hairy ball hangs sponsors. You must get picture here glazed eyes, slurred speech and always some daft bastard ordering the nuclear strength curry just because………well why? Who does it impress when we all know your pancreas is going to hanging out AM. The food being free Ball Hangs less than prolific Centre Forward One Ball decided he must order a starter of eight onion bhajis, covered in copious amounts of yoghurt sauce soon to be drooling down One Balls chin as he eyed up a couple of desperate fifty year old maidens who could bear our heroes presence.

Nine thirty AM Sunday the proud players The Mighty Hairy ball hang fc assembled. Talk of feeding the Curry's house Goldfish with naan and a Lady known as F'tang F'tang Ole Biscuit Barrell filled the air along with belches, coughs and the smell of a flagon of Natch being passed around. It was all good, Ball Hang were fit and ready to face the rigorous test of HMP Erlstoke team of super fit Prison Warders & Inmates named Slasher, Chopper, Surgeon…..and Tools! So off our boys set.

Now anybody who has visited, worked or resided at HMP Erlstoke will know this simple truth, this baby is not easy to find. Its is right in the heart of Wiltshire's deepest Deliverance country and you just know those six fingered banjo players are out in those woods. So far of the map is the HMP that it is rumored that after a mass break out of prisoners in 1986 eleven prisoners turned up at the prison gates after seventy hours on the run begging to be let back in, all due to being seriously distressed after exposure to Wiltshire's woods were compasses will not work. So unsurprisingly Ball Hang FC quickly got lost. Up and down the boys went along lanes the width of a car till a large manor house was sighted. Gates were opened and five cars sped up the large driveway seeking of directions. Fags were sparked up, natch passed around, doorbells dinged and one of the Mighty Hairy ball hangs subs eyed up the Rhododendrons and considered marking his territory.

More doorbell dinging ensued and then…….. two transit vans approached at extreme speed…….F*cking hell………numerous men jump out of the vans dressed in flak jackets, carrying what look suspiciously like automatic weapons and all are roaring up against the "f*cking wall and spread your f*cking legs"! Hairy Ball Hang had stumbled upon the then Minister for Northern Irelands house Tom King and were being looked upon as being murderous Republican terrorists. Each vehicle was searched, each player, hanger on and drunk wobbling from side was made to stand against the wall at gun pont.After a terse twenty minutes the shadowy men in black were convinced Hairys Balls boots and last flagon of natch could not be -

BALL HANG CONTINUED - combined to form a explosive device, the boys were free to go. Police appeared and an escort was provided complete with sirens going "ner, ner" to the HMP.

The cavalcade arrived to find HMP's players all ready on the pitch with Slasher, Chopper, Surgeon…..and Tools going through their pre match karate kicks. Ball Hang were quickly into their kit and lined up ready for the toss in front of the assembled crowd of arsonists, murders, fraudsters, muggers, burglars, sadists and other nice bits of society numbering about a hundred. After sixty minutes it was HMP Erlstoke FC 2 Ball Hang not terrorists FC 0. Both goals had been notched by Tools who was leading the line with more skill than was normally associated with Sunday mornings but a stare like Charlie Manson In stark contrast up top for Ball Hang One Ball was having a mare, hands on hips forlornly staring at his boots contemplating what a session of lager piss and eight bhajis had done to his soul and more importantly body.

Twenty minutes to go and an attempted clearance by Chopper is miscued and Ball Hang have a corner. More in hope than judgment centre halves shuffle forward knowing the corner will go front post [oh so difficult to defend says Lawro]. Centre halves both check runs then move to where the ball is going to be delivered [in the mixer]. The ball sails over heads towards the back stick were One Ball lurks like a man about to vomit. One ball rises, every slow and fast twitch fibre in his body tenses, One Ball rises some more, tendons and sinews heave with the strain, vessels bulge out of One Balls neck As One Ball hovers an inch above terra Firma. "UUUUHHHHHH" One Ball screams desperately as the ball goes out harmlessly for a goal kick. "NO,NO,NO,NOOOOOOOO" One Ball screams some more as two liquid streams of orange molten excreta shoot down the back of One Balls legs, "ONE BALL HAS SHAT HIMSELF"! Were once was white fabric there is now bhaji orangey brown. One Ball is stood in a state of shock surrounded by two football teams pissing themselves laughing with the Ref looking on incredulously asking if the magic sponge is needed.

The last fifteen minutes see a desperate One Ball stood in the centre circle as a hundred Cons sing "your shit and you know you are" seemingly in a depth of hell of his own making not experienced by many. 2-0 it is and our intrepid bhaji stained forward has to bear the final ignominy of a walk to the changing rooms with the laughter of murderers in his ears.

The explosion from One Balls bowels saw out the arse end of The Mighty Hairy Ball Hang fc's season. One Ball kept at it the next season despite his fame traveling around every minor league in the area. Amazingly One Ball is still out there, every Sunday and every week a white pair of shorts is held up to the light inspected for possible staining and tossed towards a player with the words "I think these are yours Mate go easy on em".