So you may have noticed I have been posting my last few updates from parts Southern Hemispherical. Whilst I am currently in a very lovely resort just off the coast of Phuket Island my whimsy has taken me to a fellow Pilgrim. Cast adrift on a perilous voyage he sits alone on a beach surveying the empty ocean.
This is his tale
Sun beating down. As relentless as a Leeds United midfield chasing a referee in the 1970’s. Waves crash remorselessly on the reefs which HMS Argyle foundered so long ago. Since then I watch devoid of hope accompanied only by my two pet crabs Hourihane and Forshaw. Forshaw has only six legs. And one claw. Mainly he hides in the seaweed.
To pass the time I have managed to wrap an empty coconut shell with palm leaves to make a rudimentary ball. I practice every day. I still struggle to keep the ball from rolling away from me. Practice makes perfect though.
I saw a ship today. It’s blue and while flags flew high. It looks like HMS Gamechanger with Admiral McKenna at the helm. They left port when we did but now have hired expensive mercenaries to man their ship. They leave the Mare Championship where we are stranded for the uncharted waters of the Mare Premier. They seem very confident. I wish them well although their piratical captain Morsy seems to flick me the v’s for no reason.
I miss the old crew. Some abandoned the voyage early. Last seen on a brigantine carrying coconuts, sugar cane and cacao. I wonder if discipline held or was there a mutiny on the Bounty.
Last night I was awoken by a strange sound. I searched and found an unlikely looking man. He speaks a strange tongue I struggle to understand but is undoubtedly a hard worker and resourceful. I show him my footballs and when I attempt to control the ball and it rolls away he laughs points and says a strange word. It sounds like Obafemi. I wonder what it can mean?
Today we try to communicate. I point at him and at me and say Man. Then I point at my battered calendar with picture of Captain Rooney. Friday I say. For the day he arrived.
He points at himself and say Nance. It is decided. He is Nance Friday. He smiles and wistfully says nance Friday. Leicester. And then screams Moose. He runs around the beach until he is exhausted. I point at the island and say “no moose here”.
Nance Friday has been crying now for three days. The lack of Moose has hit him hard. I realise now he must be Canadian.
Nance Friday appears today with a net he has woven from coconut fibre. I assume he is to go fishing. In fact he watches me do my football drills. Then when I am exhausted he collects all the coconut balls and places them in the net. Then goes for a nap.
HMS Gamechanger returns today. It limps past looking battered. Admiral McKenna stares forlornly back at the Mare Championship. He doesn’t see some of his mercenaries climbing into rowboats and heading back towards the Mare Premier
I hear a jauntily clad Morsy swearing at something called a useless Delap, apparently some kind of premier oar or some such. Quite the motivator, he trips a fellow crewman who tumbles into the sea and is set upon by sharks.
I wave cheerfully but once again his response is two fingered.
Rescue is upon us. A kindly figure, neat bearded and accented but with intelligible English has landed. He brings with him some rough sorts from the East. He has a charter from our owner Squire Hallett to repair and reclaim HMS argyle and sail her homewards.
Nance Friday is overjoyed when they talk of Moose and Hardie. He runs around and the attempts to kick the Coconut ball but misses and lands on his back. The easterners all Laugh heartily and shout Obafemi. I must learn this tongue of theirs.
And so I find myself back aboard the Argyle, limping and listing but bound for the port of Swansea. Our new crew seem highly motivated, as apparently after we reach Swansea they have further plans to smash Coops and then give soft lad Morgan a visit.
My time as a castaway is over. I am a Pilgrim once more
With apologies to Daniel Defoe
So after stuffing the Norwich Bernard Mathews all star XI to the point where you can put a fork in them and they are clearly done, with perfect Hardie first half brace all Roads lead to Swansalona and the Kings royal birds.
Even watching from afar via Pasoti and the BBC doesn’t tell you how tense the Norwich game was for a castaway. In an almost carbon copy of the previous home meeting Argyle took maximum reward from their limited chances to gain a comfortable half time lead.
Having spent the half time period willing them to keep it tight the sight of an immediate Sargeant come back was far from ideal. For the first time ever a message in a bottle would have been preferred to the internet. But theee points were secured leaving EFL MVP Borja Sainz spitting feathers. Which make a nice change.
With other results being generally favourable including the Tuesday scores, Argyle have at least given themselves more hope. A win is almost essential with the stumbling Sheffield Red Stripe to come on Saturday on the back of two successive one nil defeats.
Should it arrive then Suddenly all manner of possibilities open up. Up to and including QPR who, with virtually a full
First eleven out injured and their last striker, pulling the hamstring his manager was criticised for protecting by not starting him in the last match at Stoke, leaving them devoid of any goal threat apart from Jimmy Dunne the right back are still at risk. There is a strong case for them not gaining another point from their last five games and that case is made most forcibly by their own fans.
It’s a riveting watch. Any three from up to nine and, if we can do that weirdest of things and win back to back against a Swansea side that seems to have possession a plenty but little threat, we are clearly back in the mix.
So it’s a Drake like raid on the mute Swans home port and then back to calmer waters and await Wilders Buccaneers.
Spirits are high. Obafemi!!!!!!!
COYG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This is his tale
Sun beating down. As relentless as a Leeds United midfield chasing a referee in the 1970’s. Waves crash remorselessly on the reefs which HMS Argyle foundered so long ago. Since then I watch devoid of hope accompanied only by my two pet crabs Hourihane and Forshaw. Forshaw has only six legs. And one claw. Mainly he hides in the seaweed.
To pass the time I have managed to wrap an empty coconut shell with palm leaves to make a rudimentary ball. I practice every day. I still struggle to keep the ball from rolling away from me. Practice makes perfect though.
I saw a ship today. It’s blue and while flags flew high. It looks like HMS Gamechanger with Admiral McKenna at the helm. They left port when we did but now have hired expensive mercenaries to man their ship. They leave the Mare Championship where we are stranded for the uncharted waters of the Mare Premier. They seem very confident. I wish them well although their piratical captain Morsy seems to flick me the v’s for no reason.
I miss the old crew. Some abandoned the voyage early. Last seen on a brigantine carrying coconuts, sugar cane and cacao. I wonder if discipline held or was there a mutiny on the Bounty.
Last night I was awoken by a strange sound. I searched and found an unlikely looking man. He speaks a strange tongue I struggle to understand but is undoubtedly a hard worker and resourceful. I show him my footballs and when I attempt to control the ball and it rolls away he laughs points and says a strange word. It sounds like Obafemi. I wonder what it can mean?
Today we try to communicate. I point at him and at me and say Man. Then I point at my battered calendar with picture of Captain Rooney. Friday I say. For the day he arrived.
He points at himself and say Nance. It is decided. He is Nance Friday. He smiles and wistfully says nance Friday. Leicester. And then screams Moose. He runs around the beach until he is exhausted. I point at the island and say “no moose here”.
Nance Friday has been crying now for three days. The lack of Moose has hit him hard. I realise now he must be Canadian.
Nance Friday appears today with a net he has woven from coconut fibre. I assume he is to go fishing. In fact he watches me do my football drills. Then when I am exhausted he collects all the coconut balls and places them in the net. Then goes for a nap.
HMS Gamechanger returns today. It limps past looking battered. Admiral McKenna stares forlornly back at the Mare Championship. He doesn’t see some of his mercenaries climbing into rowboats and heading back towards the Mare Premier
I hear a jauntily clad Morsy swearing at something called a useless Delap, apparently some kind of premier oar or some such. Quite the motivator, he trips a fellow crewman who tumbles into the sea and is set upon by sharks.
I wave cheerfully but once again his response is two fingered.
Rescue is upon us. A kindly figure, neat bearded and accented but with intelligible English has landed. He brings with him some rough sorts from the East. He has a charter from our owner Squire Hallett to repair and reclaim HMS argyle and sail her homewards.
Nance Friday is overjoyed when they talk of Moose and Hardie. He runs around and the attempts to kick the Coconut ball but misses and lands on his back. The easterners all Laugh heartily and shout Obafemi. I must learn this tongue of theirs.
And so I find myself back aboard the Argyle, limping and listing but bound for the port of Swansea. Our new crew seem highly motivated, as apparently after we reach Swansea they have further plans to smash Coops and then give soft lad Morgan a visit.
My time as a castaway is over. I am a Pilgrim once more
With apologies to Daniel Defoe
So after stuffing the Norwich Bernard Mathews all star XI to the point where you can put a fork in them and they are clearly done, with perfect Hardie first half brace all Roads lead to Swansalona and the Kings royal birds.
Even watching from afar via Pasoti and the BBC doesn’t tell you how tense the Norwich game was for a castaway. In an almost carbon copy of the previous home meeting Argyle took maximum reward from their limited chances to gain a comfortable half time lead.
Having spent the half time period willing them to keep it tight the sight of an immediate Sargeant come back was far from ideal. For the first time ever a message in a bottle would have been preferred to the internet. But theee points were secured leaving EFL MVP Borja Sainz spitting feathers. Which make a nice change.
With other results being generally favourable including the Tuesday scores, Argyle have at least given themselves more hope. A win is almost essential with the stumbling Sheffield Red Stripe to come on Saturday on the back of two successive one nil defeats.
Should it arrive then Suddenly all manner of possibilities open up. Up to and including QPR who, with virtually a full
First eleven out injured and their last striker, pulling the hamstring his manager was criticised for protecting by not starting him in the last match at Stoke, leaving them devoid of any goal threat apart from Jimmy Dunne the right back are still at risk. There is a strong case for them not gaining another point from their last five games and that case is made most forcibly by their own fans.
It’s a riveting watch. Any three from up to nine and, if we can do that weirdest of things and win back to back against a Swansea side that seems to have possession a plenty but little threat, we are clearly back in the mix.
So it’s a Drake like raid on the mute Swans home port and then back to calmer waters and await Wilders Buccaneers.
Spirits are high. Obafemi!!!!!!!
COYG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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