Some say Secret Skittler works at the Ministry, some say he’s in the Ministry, or possibly Minestrone. Working out his identity would be a simple matter of looking at who’s not playing in weeks when SS posts no write-up, were it not for the fact that Jeremy, Julian, Adam, Simon and Fitz have so far been absent for a combined total of 40 matches, or 240 hands, or 720 skittles, or, at today’s prices, one packet of crisps and a half of Goram.
And it’s not just the flaky five. Indeed, as autumn progressed, squad availability first lapsed and then prolapsed. By 3rd December’s match agsinst Brent Knoll, with half term, the budget, the Traitors final, and lucrative seasonal Santa contracts having reduced manpower to lows not seen since the days of Judge Jeffries, the Brig was obliged to send out a team of Danny, PJB and eight sergeant majors. “Sorry chaps, ghastly bosh. Forgot my winter top-up at Tan & Glow, good luck.”
It was a bloodbath, inevitably. Confident to the point of complacency from a recent run of form, and further softened by the Lamb’s lush catering, the Knollites shambled straight into the lethal double envelopment of the Dads’ top sharpshooters. Danny and PJB’s triumph was total – but came at a high price. “Look chaps, no doubt about the heroics, absolutely top drawer, but the rules are the rules and I’m afraid with just the two of you it’s £46 each. Cash or contactless?”