SEVEN - BLACK EYES, FOOTBALL HIGHS

Well what a week, Nobby had scored the winning goal in a semi-final game that was built up into something more prestigious than it was by the ever-puffing Mr Liddell. The next day Nobby had felt the wrath of Knuckles O'Reilly who, having seen his younger brother beaten in goal by our young protégé, had dished out sweet unruly revenge using his ape-man intelligence and similarly primitive fists and size 7 feet.  It was a horrible occurrence, one that saw Nobby's best mate Terry Thompson leap to his aide but only end up with two missing front teeth and a broken nose to join Nobby's personal injury list.

Thursday arrived, the day of the final, Nobby had placed his bruised and throbbing conkers in a cotton-wool lined sock that was tucked into his underpants and created a bulge many a 70's porn star would have been proud of.  His eye had been attended to by his mum Hilda the night before with a leftover rasher of bacon, obviously lacking the healing properties of a fine rump steak.  Nobby's dad tut-tutted and set about teaching his son the basics of the Marquis of Queensbury rules which ended with dad’s swinging fist knocking the family fishbowl flying and the fish, Eusebio, into the blazing open fire – like I say, what a week!

After morning register with Ms Phipps and a detention given to Martha Walls for wearing an ‘I love Dave Dee Dozy Beaky Mick & Tich’ badge and chewing gum (tut, tut), the first lesson of the day was History, led by the sweating pedant that was Mr Fawkes.  Today the lesson discussed the Great Fire of London, mentioned a place called Pudding Lane which duly led to Mr Fawkes digressing and talking about the dangers of playing with matches and the joys of Spotted Dick and Custard.  All the while, as the teacher verbally instructed and wandered, Nobby's stomach fluttered and his mind pondered.  The cause of these cranial peregrinations, the ensuing Football Final that would see himself and his teammates go under the guise of the Wincheston Reds and pit their wits against fellow classmates who were gathered as the Cudley Tigers.  Tactics were tossed around the muddled mind, positional play was considered and who to mark given due time.  Should he play high up on the pitch or should he....'thwack' - the reverie was shattered, a ringing in the ears ensued, a board duster fell to the floor after leaving Nobby's crust, Mr Fawkes looked none to pleased - a D-merit was given and the lesson seen out under a heavy cloud.

Eventually History was appropriately put in the past (albeit the 'immediate') and Nobby and his team mates were striding out of the changing rooms onto the nearby pitch to indulge in the biggest moment of our young ball kicking erbert's life.  Instead of 15 minutes each way like the semi's, Mr Liddell insisted each half was now 30 minutes, with 10 minutes for half-time and a tactical talk given by his tall and rangy assistant Mr Flank.  To add to the occasion Mr Liddell had persuaded the headteacher to allow Mr Tome and Miss Tweed to let their classes out to support the game and assist in raising the general atmosphere.  Mr Tome was quite ruffled by this and felt it diluted his authority, Miss Tweed squeaked with delight and put on an extra layer of make-up and made several cardboard signs for the kids to hold up - 'Roar Tigers Roar', 'Up The Reds', 'Mr Liddell for England' etc. one would think she had a crush on Mr Liddell (watch this space).

As the two teams lined up and formally shook hands the onlookers were encouraged to holler their support. Shit's Magoo offered up a few lewd comments but after a clip around the ear sheepishly joined in with the more acceptable banter.  The delicate Jane Howitt however had to be led away in a flood of tears after the noise had become too much and her National Health Hearing Aid had gone haywire.  At 1pm on the dot the game got underway, as I am now out of textual space you will have to read the next installment to see what transpires - I humbly apologise for the crease in your buttocks due to spending so much time on the edge of your seat – the wait will be worth it (he says hopefully)!