Corinthians 8 - Attlee 03/12/09 Victory

The Christmas period has traditionally taken its toll on the fitness and indeed the focus of the average non professional footballing outfits.

Speaking of outfits, in the pre game changing room nonsense which has come to punctuate Corinthians games Dave Brown found a unique way to save on washing powder by identifying a stray pair of what appeared to be swimming shorts and choosing saving on washing over his visual appearance on the field of play…..then politely replaced them on the same hook that he found them on once he was done.

It is also no secret that the Corinthians are not strangers to taking their eye off the ball, often mid game and in the literal sense.

Attlee though were unlikely to pose a real threat especially under the weight of a 17 nil drubbing the previous week which was the footballing equivalent of that scene in Casino where ‘Dominic’ and ‘Nicky’ are beaten with baseball bats and buried alive. That said after initially dominating the game with debutant Kristan adding guile to the gusto as the Christmas middle class white man fatness kicked in Attlee got their heads and tails up.

If that bunch of recovering young offenders can keep putting performances like their latter 20 minutes on Thursday then in a year or two we will all fear the games against these boys, they are a talented bunch and their abilities deserve annotation. Equally it is no small co-incidence that the game swing the way of the locals as soon as injured manager Lewis stepped onto the field in tracksuit bottoms and clown shoes, darted about for 5 minutes and then slunk off wheezing like a cancerous lung in a marathon.

8-3 the final score, 3 more points on the board and the title chase is looking serious again.

This Thursday was to be the event that we had all been waiting for. The public houses of E1 had their doors wide open, maidens strewn provocatively about the door ways all coveting the business of the league champions in a celebratory mood…..

…..Or at least, that was the vision, Cenamor and Finnegan opted for the journey home, Cenamor had a small cut on his knee and understandably felt the need to race home for amputation and the look in Finnegan’s eye had the unspoken glint of a man afraid to anger his better half with hearty drink with better men? We shall never know.

So the remaining soldiers marched on, like the last Neanderthals on the Rock of Gibraltar, alone, cold but never afraid. The doors of E1 were in fact shut, not the open embrace champions should expect but Private parties asunder.

7 or 8 pints and Chad Gomez’s leg breaking story told as if pitching the tale to his publisher later; London transport has sung its last screeching song for the day and the remaining drinkers were stranded.

Old street offered refuge but not without insult. As the erstwhile Corinthian revelers attempted to enter one of the local Indie bars, world renowned for a laid back attitude toward appearance and accept all way of life….Kristan was stopped at the door and turned away for being a tracksuit bottom wearing scally with no more right to be on God’s green earth than Anton Ferdinand. ‘But he owns his own recruitment business’ squeaked Lewis, realizing as this drivel emerged from his mouth just how ridiculous he sounded. The bouncer remained unmoved.

The evening wound down in Bethnal Green, in the flat of one Sonita Thompson, friend of the Corinthians.

All became peaceful, the sun came up, the birds came to life…as did Dave Brown and Kristan, Dave Brown sleeping on a stair way in his coat face down in another mans sick, ‘so that’s why my eye was stinging’ and Kristan is currently under investigation for being the late night marauder who stumbled into one of the bedrooms of the other tenants.

Lewis sacrificed sleep in favour of incoherent rambling, cider and potential heart failure all in preparation for a mid morning job interview.


A job well done on and off the pitch.
All I can say is, as Oliver Twist felt so compelled to tentatively gesture....

’sir, I want some more’…..