October 2025.
As the Premier League makes all too clear, a global fanbase, oligarch finance and state of the art infrastructure are no guarantors of success in elite sport. Hence it could not really be deemed as surprising that the all-conquering Dads of the 24-25 season, buoyed up by a summer of open-tractor parades around the county, clothed neck to toe in Butcombe-sponsored “fast-wick” Craghopper athleisure wear, and conditioned in the saunas and ice-baths of their new training facility beneath Ashton Windmill, collapsed yet again at the Lamb at Weare.
There were mitigating factors, of course, incidents and happenings that offered partial explanations. The eye-catching new playing cards. The substitution of a basket for the regular poker tray. The recruitment by the opposition of elite Chinese martial arts manservant “Cato”. The destabilising impact of dinner served at half-time. The eye-catching new playing cards. The eye-catching new playing cards.
The Brig, characteristically, has turned to the military drill manual to get things back on track. “All leave cancelled. Curfew at 8pm. Calorie intake and press-up counts to be phoned in twice daily. Improving literature only. And by gumbo if those new playing cards aren’t returned on my doormat by tomorrow morning, every man jack of you is buying crisps for a year.”