It was a crisp bright autumn afternoon. The ground was dry and Antrim's metropolitan high street was buzzing with spides and wasters mostly. To any passer by the haute cuisine eatery of Esspresso was sparse with patrons. At the back of the eatery two young men sat down...
Mr H and Mr McC reclined to a few cups of the third world's finest coffee and tea selections and sipped away. Mr H was quite akin to his Ethiopian dark roast while Mr McC savoured on some Sri Lankan lemon tea grass.
Conversation was prolonged on minimal matters and we join the conversation just as things are getting to the important stuff...
"And why do they call it a professional foul my young sir? It is but a dirty thing only a bounder would do. I say it should be called a quite-amatuerish foul, David," said Mr McC.
"You are quite right Peter. Indeed these things are unexplained. But onto matters more pronounced. Wasn't thy action last night quite splendid?" asked My H.
"Oh quite. It was but a night of many extravagant goals but also some unfortunate dirty play," stated Mr McC.
"Play was flying along the surface like the proverbial frog on acid my dear sir."
"Quite so David, quite so."
"Unfortunate for us you swines took an early 2-0 lead thanks to a great through ball by Mark Ingram and put away with finesse by Timothy past the struggling Paul Clarke!" Exclaimed Mr H.
"Outstanding our start was. However, we got quite carried away like Paul Clarke in a party shop. We went wild and left our defense back on the toilet in the forum changing rooms," said Mr McC.
"And fight back we did my observant partner in slay. I fail to recollect the scorers but young Jonathan Martin may have scored a point or maybe my good self. Oh but to be humble however, of course."
"Always David, always."
"But again up pounced young Timothy with a shot from outside the box, off the bar and in," said Mr H.
"And that wasnt the end! More goals came and went than the average Newcastle v Liverpool game in the premiership. A controversial goal from Squire John Barclay made it 5-4 with minutes to spare! Yes about 20 minutes! But still minutes!"
"Yes Peter but a tight angled goal from young Johnathan that even Pythagoras couldnt work out made for a tense finale. So tense in fact just recalling it has attributed to me needing to attend the little boys room..." And off Mr H went...
Back came Mr H.
"Bants ok David?"
"A spare pair always handy Peter."
"Nice."
"Do you think anyone else is bored of this conversation Peter? I think so, lets end here..."
And so the two slayers reminised past footballing slaying memories of the night before and the dramatic finish of William Culhoon to banish David's team for another week...
Winners (Osama Bin Laden)
Mr Culhoon for a hat-trick hero debut.