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Essex School of Venereal Diseases 2 : 3 LSE LSE 16 : 0 QMWank Our tail begins in Essex. I don’t like Essex. Its shit. I specifically don’t like having to travel 2½ hours to go through the motions of raping another provincial poly. The Uni wasn’t very impressive, as I parked my car at the Essex astro-turf one of their professors popped up and asked me if he could clean my windscreen, I tipped the wretch a quid and he started sponging. When we arrived at the pitch we saw what looked like a group of (censored) asylum seekers soliciting cheap sex. - Any sex is cheap sex when you have as little of it as I do – anyway, the asylum seekers were, in fact, our opposition and after a quick warm up the game began. The opening ten minutes was a tense affair but towards the end we miraculously developed an ability to pass the ball (apart from you C#unt). The mounting pressure that our champagne hockey was exerting on the fragile Essex defence eventually ended with a trade mark C#NT/BB Dancer/Vish Suppa short corner. This display of Germanic efficiency sparked off a spell of domination for LSE, and when we dominate, we like to punish. Two more goals followed and at half time we were sitting pretty with a 3-0 lead. As LSE asserted their superiority over the ‘burger-flippers-to-be’ complacency kicked in. With five minutes to go some lacklustre play from the captain Wacko Jacko and the absence of his guardian angel ‘Twice as Nice’ Porter with ‘groin strain’ allowed the pikeys to knick two goals back. The last five minutes was scrappy with LSE slipping to the low-down and dirty level of our no-hoper opposition. The final score was 3-2. The Next week it was our pleasure host QMWank at Battersea Park. We weren’t expecting much from the east-end rejects, they couldn’t even turn up on time. With the game underway we soon realised that any competition from these amateurs was unlikely. You see, there are two types of opposition: the first are hockey players (even Essex were ‘hockey’ players) and then you’ve got the second bunch; footballers that think they can play hockey. These can be spotted toting naff nylon shorts, pig like nostrils and the text book ‘crop’ haircut. They can run but unfortunately any manner of hand eye coordination has unfortunately eluded them. We scored more goals than I’d care to remember, even Mowgli scored, and that’s saying something! Enjoying his moment of glory Mowgli entered, what could only be called; ‘the zone’. Within minutes he’d scored a second, and, for the first time in his LSE career actually broke sweat. He’d tasted glory, and he wanted more. Unfortunately he’s too shit, and had to put up with only two goals. Hat-trick avoidance? With QMWank packed off to Mile End (I’m looking forward to the provincial away fixture) the festivities could begin. Much merriment and jubilation was had in the pub after the game and then it was off to the Tuns for Initiation! Dicky was the first ‘fresher’ to negotiate the hurdles but - unfortunately for him - half way through he developed a belief that he was in fact a bulldozer. He attempted to demolish St. Clements with a headfirst sprint straight into the limestone wall. Idiot. LSE Estates 1: Quasimodo 0. With his face a mess Richard was packed off in an ambulance and the somewhat more tentative freshers began the course. Mid way through the festivities AU Criminality raised its ugly head. Football assembled outside the Tuns and, not being able to help themselves, invaded the pitch. The monkeys picked up our hockey sticks (then hurdles) and ran away with them. Kevin Keegan wouldn’t want to park his car in Houghton Street… we don’t like the walking crime wave that is: LSEFC. Am ornly jorkin’ lads. Anyway, fracas over, the rest of the freshers were initiated. Septic let himself down, setting a fairly pedestrian pace and Quiet Man got ‘involved’ for the first time. Frodo was a bit funny after his pint of wine and wanted to be taped up to girls all night. Taking advice from Wacko, Frodo found that “pinching a girl's behind and asking her what her most private of parts smells like just wasn't working last night” Any other ideas, Jacko? Below is the censored beaver version, losers |
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