LSE 2nds 10 : 3 RSM 2nds It’s two o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon and even though we’re due to meet at 3pm Ginga Jackson is whining like a bitch about a poor turnout. Then, as if things couldn’t get much worse, our freshers actually turned up. The young hopefuls made their way over to the table with all the conviction of an OAP pecker. Several school boy errors had been made, one had his shirt tucked in, one resembled the sugar puff monster and one was American. Taking this in our stride it was time to make the pilgrimage to the hallowed turf of Battersea Park. The team loves its home ground, none more than BB Dancer who takes time out to enjoy his other past time of fiddling with the ten year old boys we share a changing room with. ‘Vod you like a sveety?’ When arriving on the pitch Wacko Jacko faced immediate disappointment. The ladies team could not provide him with a fat ginger fresher who’s toe jam he could smear on his nipples. While BB Dancer and Cönt were trying hard to umpire the girls match captain Jacko failed to organise any sort of team talk and, much like in the Tuns, our players wandered out on to the pitch not sure quite what was going on. This might have proved a problem if it were not for our opposition who were still trying to figure out which was round to hold their hockey sticks. The Royal School on Mines? Who the fuck are they? Does Britain have any mines any more? Since when have you had to go to school to work in a mine? I thought mines were where the government put inbred welsh valley boys to keep them from the rest of society. The Taffy pleb-bastards proved to be completely inept, with Mowgly slotting an early goal passed their sprawling keeper. After breaking the Welsh hymen, LSE continued to thrust deeper and deeper, harder and harder into the ragged Welsh bucket, I mean goal. This success was based on “Mr Modest” Mayur Patel: “Damn I played good today, I’m one foxy bitch!” Would you agree Tara? 7 – 0 at half time and Sharon complains of boredom between the posts, well we thought he did; to be honest nobody really understands the mumbles anymore. In order to please our Essex slut we decide to let the Miners into our own half! Living up to his reputation Sharon proceeded to allow just about anything and everything between his legs. Three flaps, three goals…final score 10 - 3…. good work Sharon (lets work on that confidence… and spelling and breath and look and the list goes on and on and on… you Russian twat!) Having been hammered on the pitch, our working class opposition thought they could rescue some dignity by challenging us to a boat race. However with the new signings came some unexpected new qualities, the Septic Tank, Frodo and BSB (no new signing but back from sabbatical) were all instrumental in sending the unwashed and undistinguished back to their pits with their tails between their legs. Retelling the rest of the evening in any detail would be rather difficult, as I can’t really remember much more. After philating the ‘glove of love,’ BSB lost his balance around 10:30 and fell into a puddle of piss. Nayhan “Bruce Lee” Patel decided that it would be a good idea to turn Walkabout into a mini Kashmir and the FT boy tried desperately to rescue his fractured relationship with the Ladies Hockey Club, their naïve freshers had not been informed of his abusive character but he still managed to maintain his duck. All in all, a successful first outing for the LSEHC (no, not you Sharon) Article by Hayden Wood

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