A repeat of recent weeks. After a personal very lengthy time absent due to an unfortunate freak injury (18 months to be precise) February is just as bad as January. Poor attendance. Poor commitment. But a good game of football between men of mixed ages.

Newcomer mike has not only impressed with his standard of football, but has now proved himself as a great keeper and competitor.

On a cold night with only 12 members braving the night we had a great game. To pick out a few Chris in form again, macs touch of a rapist, mark celebrating a birthday, and a welcomed return for carl, in all honesty I felt we should have got a result.

If it helps I'm pretty pissed writing this on my phone with one eye open, we've just stuffed villa 6-0 and I've had about 12 guinesses, I feel quite marvelous to be honest, and my thumbs look massive (like blakes willy)

There was a time when I loved coming to footy on a Wednesday with my dad and his retarded mates. I was 15. Neston rec. Full of inbreds. Terrible pitch. We played togger. We enjoyed the game. We went the seven stars pub. We socialised. We had a bevvy. We enjoyed the banter.
My dad can't come any more because he's an old spaz. He'd love to be here, like many other old meffs that have had to hang there boots up. This is our time.
4 people went into the bar on Wednesday. 4. Excuse the French but it's fuckin pathetic.

Good win Mike, see you on the return leg pal.

Man of the match: Mac and Hackett. Mac because he's nearly 90 but still apologises for missing sitters because he cares. And Hackett because he always comes for a pint no matter how shit he is.