DSPACF 15 Peckhamwoodpeckercider AFC 6

Constantin Conngiggski is in a sul...sorry away.

Wolfgang Wolfkaiser sent the following press release:
"I'm afraid that I will not to be available for selection in tonight's match or next week's crucial Dulwich Champions Leaguequalifier due to my contractual obligations as a tactical consultant with the Oesterreichische Fussball Bund to whip those hopeless yodel kickers (short: yokels) into shape before this summer's Euro tournament.In my absence I would like you to feel 10 feet tall and play fearless attacking football to give everyone a bit of a lift, remember the fans are all honest sheet metal workers who pay a lot of money to follow you around. Then take the lessons learnt away and turn them into positives and build upon them for the next match which is the one you will need toconcentrate on, one at a time. Remember, you can only get better. I'll be following the live score updates over the telexticker."

Too Bibilicious for Ya!

DSPAFC 8 - Colors of Benetton Utd 7
Att. 61,409

It was bibtastic this crisp evening. Oh what a turn out it was. A full squad minus a few stalwarts on display on the hour and all willing for the off. Gizzabaldi dispensed the colours and without any hesitation it was ON!

Team selection done, it was now time for formation. Too often in the past the DSPAFC have been rash in this department and paid for it late doors. Today was not a day to risk anything but attacking football of the highest order. The home side huddled together for what the crowd, almost to capacity, felt was an eternity. The new Italian-influenced Diamond Encrusted formation with a hint of Cubic Zerconia on the flanks was the plan. What a plan it was. Oh my gosh.

The Limey Greens Vs the Tangerines, a pure 5v5. We got our five a day and then some. Vitamins and minerals were strewn about the field of dreams come the final clunk of the final 10pence in the electricity metre.

The flow was at times a little pedestrian, especially in the final hour when it looked like the extra training sessions set by the headmaster had left some of the internationals drained. But for the first flourish of frenzied phantasmagorical football this was a thing to behold, one to tell the kids about, or one to tell your Facebook friends about if the kids won’t listen.

The teams seemed a tad nervous at first, this despite the fact that the numbers added up to two identical equally odd numbers, the goals were in their allocated positions, the teams had clear kit colour differences, the ball was pumped up. But who’s that ? A young hopeful for the future on the sideline ready to enter the fray if needed. Kitano Coweyscatsi even helped out the ball retrieval staff, held court as a fledgling pundit back at the pavilion and looked set to replace his old man in the final minutes after an injury. Hold on young man, it'd take more than that to remove the 4 goal outside right from the Arena which he lit up with a double brace and several which rebounded from the Utd goalposts and crossbar.

This exhibition was a walk in the park of dreams for these seasoned bibbers.
Passing was crisp, the dew played its part though, movement early doors was gradual and problems with vision were expressed. “Is there a postal strike tonight or what?” Conngiggskï suggested to Gizzabaldi mid-match, having seen his arch enemy hit the bark 5 out of 5. Not bad for Soccer Sunday on Sky with the has-beens, but we are talking about this group of men at their peak.

The field or should I say the fields of dreams seemed more vast this evening. It was mainly due to the inevitable absence of teams on number 2 and 3. The outcome we saw some weeks ago, as the younguns tried in vain to get a game with the masters. “Oh you are short a man tonight, can we play”. “Oh there is a conference in Harlow tonight, if you guys are shy, I will be kicking a ball against the gate for a full 40” and such.

They realised that with our embarrassment of riches, they could not spend their night living a dream, the dream we were living, poor bastards. But in time they will realise the golden rule. What the head of an experienced pro says will eventually reach his shooting boot. It is just the extra wisdom takes its time to reach the sweet spot.
The players collectively have a manner about them in which this is displayed (but more of that another day).

However the comical information-relay-delay sticker goes to multiple guilty parties tonight. Gizzabaldi for his mystifying, midfield ball entrapment, followed by triple pirouette and landing on his arse; both Coweyscatsi and Waddolucci’s Ronaldinho impersonations on the flanks; and referee Jorge Satantango’s below-par efforts. Having cautioned Garrattino for a challenge which saw Wolfkaiser nursing several of his metatarsals (at last we know how to spell it) and looking in vain for the magic sponge, he booked him again for upending Campellese in the dying minutes but didn’t dispatch him to the sin-bin. In the opening minutes DSPAFC were denied “a stonewall penalty” according to John Barnes, for a handling outside the D offence. Not for the first time this season Satantango’s European Cup final dreams look to be in tatters.

With tele-votes still coming in the Bisto and Marmite awards still hang in the balance but with Waddolucci's twinkle toed performance and free-scoring Coweyscatsi and an array of top-drawer finishes to choose from (gloss, matt and woodchip - the latter reserved for Gizzabaldi's own goal in the first minute of play) by Wolfkaiser, Campelese, Garrattino, Al Kinghali, Gilesinho, Lohmann and Conngiggski to choose from, there is a lot to ponder.

Breaking news: the embarrassment of riches led to a jam in the broadband connection of the editorial team caused by an overwhelming vote by the public. On a recount the decision for Marmite PotM went to C. Coweyscatsi and the Ahhh! Bisto goal of the match to M. Waddolucci. What a brace of assets to any team!

Frozen 99 forgotten in a Cappella 8-8

Amid all the talk of being frozen on 99 caps it was easily forgotten that King Sunny Ade Aderonski had missed out on his 63rd appearance for Colors of Benetton Utd, Roperaroo on his 17th and El Darrylinho on his 45th. These landmarks may lack the ring of the 100th international cap, but as they stand or limp on the threshold of their 63rd, 17th and 45th appearances respectively it is high time the media turned their attention to these players, out of favour at one point perhaps, but poised for greatness on their returns. "I will pick whoever is match-fit and impressing me on the training ground and in the stadium (and at breakfast). No-one is ruled out and certainly if Aderonski, Roperaroo and Darrylinho (another casualty of the new regime is the 'ski', 'roo' and 'nho' nicknames heard in the training ground under the McClaren regime) declare themselves match-fit I will consider them. I can't as you say in English say fairer than that", stated new Utd supremo A. Cappella in a pre-match press-briefing.

Hi-Vis did the Biz

What a night! What a turn out! What a display fitting the launch of the long awaited strip. This night had everything, every ingredient, every possible encounter and one inevitable result, the inevitable draw to match a game of evenstevens. On the eighth hour we knew something special was about to occur. Eager as ever Coweyscatsi, new signing Ballesssssterian and Conngiggski were questioned by the ever-keen steward as to their intentions. To which they replied in unison, “we are a bit keen”. Understatement of the night.

Gizzabaldi, having held onto the purse strings, from the almost windfall, from the squad’s almost progression in the Milk Cup qualifiers. He took it upon himself to purchase new home and away kits for the boys. The Committee decided in an Extra Extraordinary General Meeting that the off white football strip of the away squad did not distinguish itself fully for those paying the lesser Black and White Television License fee.

Hi-Vis was the future and Gizza made it so. The game lived up to expectations and then some. It was ON. From the off it was high tempo and although it started off as a traditional 5v6, in the back of the minds of the capacity crowd, the general feeling was that a surprise was looming.

How well they read the game! With the 5 looking a bit out of sorts and a couple down it looked bad. But the school governor of the midfield arrived through the mist and Dry Ice, continuing the charade which had seen him nearly lured to a seat in the Toon boardroom to the left of Dennis Wise. His arrival was likened to that of a guardian angel. Der Kaiser (AKA the Guvnor-guvernator) was freed from the shackles of teacher’s pet, or class rep. He took hold of the game by the scruff of the neck and nurtured the saplings and budding twiglettes who had filled his accustomed role while away on apple for the teacher training.

The game was to quickly take on a new complexion. It became a battlefield of not only determination but also pride in the new shirt.

The shirts themselves were designed to a very high spec and ensured the players were still distinguishable through transparency. Football is Life is still on display and so it should.

It turned out to be a laser-assisted but sporting game. The bibs were dispersed casually yet the selection was calculated. Taking into account the Africa Cup Of Nations and fatigue factors, future Milk Cup qualifiers and general appearance. Some complained of a glare and visual impairments caused by the new kit. Our pundit on MotD2, the great Lee Sharpe, disagreed and stated for the record, “in my day my vision was always a bit messed up, the bibs merely add to the whole feel of the game”. What a pro.

It was ON
2 bookings for naked torso celebrations by Coweyscatsi and Conngiggski marred a game which was otherwise characterised by conduct straight out of the top drawer of decorum and understated sartorial elegance. The modern 'celebration' is a far cry from the properly tucked-in shirts of yesteryear. And players of former eras did not need to rely on 'dummies', having built-in celebratory moustaches. That goes for stepovers as much as for 'soothers'. A swift droop of either side of the 'tache was enough to deceive even some of the most solid defenders, while the celebratory stroke of the caterpil-lipper sent the unmistakeable message: "I've scored a goal!" Keep the shirts on laddies. Save it for the samba soccer season will you.

DSPAFC supremo Makkapakka McClaren took the unusual step of wielding the magic sponge himself, patroling the technical area with a purpose-made spongemobile.

It was certainly needed it to wipe the smiles off Jay-Jay Lohmann's face as he turned in a vintage performance capped with a wonderfully executed side-footed goal for the home side, and off Coweyscatsi's fizzog as he propelled the ball at 133 mph into the top corner for DSPAFC (recipient of the Ahhh Bisto! goal of the match sticker). His trademark whippet like sprint down the flanks, this time, with the ball, he took it early doors, outside of the trusted right, and in a blaze of glory, scorched the onion sack. It was a crowd pleaser, goodnight. As he later explained on the wireless radio it was merely number 3 on his personal top ten from the noughties and number 11 on his top 100 averaged over his career to date. MacClaren was making a rare appearance on the touchline, prompted no doubt by the fact that his replacement in the home side's technical area, A. Cappella, came with his own brand of tactics all packed tightly in his Luis Vuitton manbag.

The tackling was accurate and fair as the new hi-Vis shirts enabled long-distance assessment of the opponent and the selection of the appropriate lunge, tug, trip or elbow. PotM (by unanimous decision) went to M. Garrattino for general omnipresence, timely tackles and quotations in the face of adversity. "No-one believed in me", he opined as, his team trailing 7-8, he sprayed passes to all corners of the arena only to find the front two exchanging text messages (SMS) in the final third. DSPAFC however are not called that for nothing and they soon rallied round the fleet-footed centre-half as he led them to a magnificent equaliser.

"He was on fire, sparking, spitting fire from his shooting boots which caused an inferno in the Tangerines defence. He was up town, down town, turn your feet around town, Chemical Brothers revolution. He was all over the patch and pitch. So much so he even covered the post match pavilion, with a lunging tackle" observed Lorro.

As Wolfkaiser returned to the home-side's midfield the diamond formation found itself with all facets operational. Gone was the open diamond formation of last week which saw them adapt with difficulty as if to a new test set by A. Cappella. "It's going to be interesting to see what new things the new gaffer wants to teach us, and if these new things are different from what he (Makkapakka MacCLaren) taught us", reflected Waddolucci. Seve Ballessssssterian took up the theme: "Each player knows what needs to be done, and if you look at it, the new manager has come in here and everyone is on their toes. There is a new 'look-at-me, look-at-me' attitude and that's got to be good". Jay-Jay Lohmann quipped that even he was down in time for breakfast: "Well he's won all the major trophies, so the lads want to show him (Cappella) that they can win even the small everyday trophies such as a bowl of branflakes".

Cappella has yet to appoint a permanent captain and there was certainly a sense that several of these egos could don the armband. Turnbulletin said of his customary hat trick and a bit: "as a striker you just want to put the ball in the net, and at the end of the day, that's what I did, 3 or 4 times. It's up to him what system he wants to play, and if I'm on my ownio (moi seul, as he put it himself) up front, well, that's up to him too. The lads are giving me a bit of stick about it alright. Time will tell".

So speedy was Conngiggski for DSPAFC as he weaved his way down the left flank that the defence could have been forgiven for thinking there were two of him on the pitch. Indeed some of the pundits back at the pavilion expanded on this idea: "well if you consider the role he played under Makkapakka MacClaren during his stint with Barcelona - just behind the two boys up-front - and compare it with the more familiar role he had tonight, with the same manager except not at the Camp Nou, you've got to say it's a plausible conclusion to come to that there might have been two of him on the pitch - at times - tonight. Whatever way you look at it it's got to be a major plus for DSPAFC" explained Gavin Peacock.

A masterclass for students of the beautiful game

DSPAFC Hotspur 16 Goners of Benetton Utd 5
att. 63, 247


If this was a cook-off, the DSAFC line-up would have had Gordon Ramsay in mid-field, J. Oliver on the flanks, Nigella in the engine room, Anthony Worrell Thompson ‘tween the sticks, Keith Floyd in attack and Delia Smith as player manager. What a culinary delight we had. The taste buds were tingled and toyed with for the full 90.
The 8’o clock kick off was looking unlikely at 8’o clock, a mere 3 were present and amidst internet confusion and it being the end of the transfer window it was looking ominous. But as ever through the London mist they appeared like overpaid pampered clothes horses in their splendour.

A formation of 4 v 5 was quickly arranged through the old favourite whites the visitors/off whites the home side. At the off Campellese questioned the numerical makeup and had a brief mid-field banter filled chat with his marker Conngiggskï. “We may need to do the old school half time shuffle”, or something of that ilk. He had fear in his eyes as he saw what was potentially a one horse race.

Pitch No 2 were brave, but noticing our ability, requested a match-off. They were men-down and asked for a game. We looked around and saw what could have been a situation.
“Grow up and watch and learn” was the holler from Waddolucci.
“Come back in 10 years” was the general consensus from the rest. It’s great to see the youth witnessing such glory week-in-week-out, but really we did them a favour, allowing their game to develop at its own pace rather than subject them to the humiliation of a lesson in how it’s done from us.

That horse – erm... horse? - became a beast of a foursome.
Early doors the 5 took hold of the game. A couple up and the whites sat back to admire their superior number and ability, only for the 4 to take advantage of the stall they set out early doors. The stall in question was doing a roaring trade, best Nanas, Pomegranates and 2 for a pound the lot was being screamed throughout the crowd. It was ON!

Before the 5 knew it they were 6-2 down. The mighty 4 had speed, agility and the heads did not drop. Unlike the famous 5 when pudding was withheld after their new shoes had got scraped on the garden wall as they solved a mystery. Sulking, petulant cursing and the rest were soon to follow. Aderonski was singled out for some rough treatment as the clock ticked away, while Gizzabaldi was subjected to an off-the-ball incident not seen by referee Jorge Satantango. Clashing with Conngiggskï on the edge of the D, a minor scuffle soon turned into a full-scale fracas. Both players were lucky not to take an early bath.

The 4 DSAFC were on fire. The Health and Safety chiefs were on standby. As Hoddle is my witness they were showing all in the last week of the window transfer what they were made of. Stern stuff is all I can say.
Keegan, who has been having lengthy talks with midfield supremo Wolfkaiser, allegedly, re. the possible Director of football position, was notably missing.
Still no sign of those pins in midfield.

The flair of the 4 was at times supernatural. Gizzabaldi having the game not only of his life, but of his dreams. His recent detox, coupled with his more recent tampering with retox (in a controlled environment), have paid dividends. What a cocktail of sublime tinkering. He appeared to have had adhesive substances on his shooting boot this night. It clung to his pegs like a limpet. He danced around the field, shimmied, shuffled and like the great Barry Scott would say Cillit Bang TM. He banged he banged, oh baby he moved he moved, Sorry I moved onto Rikki Martin .It was poetry in motion. Bang went the sphere, he converted from every conceivable angle, bagging a quadruple brace or a 2 and 2/3 hat-trick.

Al Kinghali along with his teammates had a funfair. The talk of the night was the new tactic in the DSPAFC display cabinet of technical excellence. Oh yes, bring on Mr Whippy. Scoop? One scoop or two? And a 99 to boot. Add to that a few hundreds and thousands, and what about a dash or two of raspberry sauce, and you have about the size of it. And still change out of a five pound note for all those who had come through the Arena turnstiles to gorge themselves on this wafer and ice confection.

But as ever the downfall of the ascendant team came to haunt. What followed was a display of showboating which even Berbatov would have been embarrassed by. The adhesive glue which Gizzabaldi had been used to appeared to have been sniffed by all and he was lucky not to be cautioned for attempting a back heel when he was clean through and facing the other way to begin with. They could not kill off the game. Being 15-3 ahead, the game was there for the taking, with 5 minutes to go.

PotM went, by unanimous decision, to Gizzabaldi. However on this display of fighting for his cause, corner and every corner, Al Kinghali is the recipient of a new award, the Keown (sticker). His rapid-fire tackling in the 85th minute left a trail of overturned Goners from centre circle to D as he singlefootedly demolished the last remaining hopes of the equaliser.

With Waddolucci claiming that a curse had been put on the diamond geezer (see below) formation of the visitors, and evidence of strange magnetic forces (or perhaps magpies) operative in the vicinity of the home D., Gilesihno still celebrating after recent events in north London, Jay-Jay Lohmann thwarted by the flat back 4 of the home side and distracted by the flat pack 4 of his recent trip to IKEA, and Garrattino led into an offside trap of his own construction, things were not going to go according to the ‘romance of the cup’ scenario. With half the production team on that particular show off doing charity work and several central characters still playing their part in the Tyneside pantomime, or else playing a key behind-the-scenes role in the Wearside revival, it will be hard for them to take any pluses away from this one.

A press release from W. Wolfkaiser: "No doubt the press will claim to see right through the club's official statement that I'm left out of the squad due to light calf strain and speculate about an impending transfer to Tyneside. I would like to take this opportunity to clarify that the pictures of me with Kevin Keegan that appeared in the tabloids today were taken in a night club where I met the Mighty Mouse on a purely social occasion." The editorial team at the blog have been passed on this official press release but I cannot guarantee that the media will not exploit ambiguities in the statement. Wolfkaiser's longstanding friendship with Dennis Wise is of course not going to help matters. The Keeganwolfwaiser (as the tabloids are calling it) dreamteam speculation has sent the Geordie Nation into a spin not seen since the days of Jimmy Nail's number one. "I should be so good for you". Or was that the hit by his former Peckham neighbour, Delboy Trotter? Or Rodders? Answers on a postcard but the sentiment is apt whatever anyone's postcard says.

DSPAFC find inner Ipanema in North Dulwich

Many facets of the beautiful game were on display on this windswept eve. From the west it looked like an embarrassment of riches; from the east a pandora’s box; from the north a midfield melée from 1982 and from the south a wonderfully threaded pass beating the off-side trap of days of yore. But from the north-east came a gale that would have caused lesser mortals to stay home with a cuppa and a couple of Holby re-runs. No wintry conditions however could deter these champions of the sphere from showing form, grace and determination.

What a turn out, not only in their newly acquired attire (as mentioned last week) but in number and spirit. A healthy amount of pros were ready for the 8’o clock call and the rest were not too far behind. The crowd were bouncin’. It was ON!

Jean-Michel Turnbulletin in particular was looking keen. He was throwing shapes, jivin’ and body poppin’ each time the ball of dreams entered his personal space, and that was before the off. He had a determination after kick-off which would unhinge any defence in the league.

Controversy was rife early doors and make no mistake. A full squad of eager sportsmen at the ready and no bibs, not to mention no golden gloves. The usual plan B came into play. Whites/off whites Vs the Benetton Colors.

It didn’t tally. For the first time in the history of DSPAFC the theory of the number of light coloured purchased t-shirts of the sort found in the wardrobe of the average player equalling the number of multi-coloured garments purchased by the rest did not weigh up. Numberswise that is.

Conngiggskï had to give up his newly sponsored personalised shirt to Roperaroo.
The confusion which followed was uneasy but brief, for the whites/off whites, apart from Conngiggskï himself who could not pass either to himself or his doppelganger, “the wolf of goals in my clothing” as he later, somewhat incomprehensibly, put it. The emperor’s new clothes, so to speak, the situation was his undoing.

The formation of 6v5 was not new by any means, “au contraire” as Turnbulletin observed, but this night there was not only a new signing on a Bosman - Seve Ballllllllllsterian signed from Rotherham - but also a steely determined vibe which shook the stand’s foundations.

An early lead from the flashy 5 was soon to lead to a further flashy extension lead from the 5. They were all over the higher number and make no mistake. The only mistake being, as per usual, complacency.

Conngiggskï took hold, metaphorically, of the match ball, only for it to be retracted after his dismal stint ‘tween the sticks. 4 goals in as many minutes. At least he scored the same number at the other end. Gizzabaldi had an equally prosperous time on the offence with 4, but he too fell victim to the showboating goalkeeping stunts that have occasionally marred his handiwork in the ‘D’. The young hot shot from the north soon read him like a book. He had him cover to cover, done and dustjacked in a trice. Dive early and you will pay the price.

The new Keeganesque messiah signing showed all the signs of a real gem. Our inside reporter, inside a locker, in the locker room of the Arena, overheard him stating, post-match, that “the universal language of football” was the main means of communication in evidence at the spectacle he had just helped to ignite. How true!!!!!!!!!

With minutes ticking away to a 10-9 victory for the home team, it was Alamo central with Roperaroo resorting to route one football, trips by Gilesinho to the corner flag and possession football led by Garrattino straight out of the top drawer. Consternation as referee Jorge Satantango penalises Roperaroo for handling outside the D. He points for an indirect free-kick and Turnbulletin doesn’t need to be asked twice to turn it into the inviting sac d’oignons. Remonstrating with the referee, Aderonskï is cautioned. But it’s just the incentive he needs singlehandedly to pick the game up by the scruff of the neck and drag his team back. Oops not for long. 10-11 in favour of the visitors. They don’t call him King Sunny Ade for nothing. Two goals at the death seal it for the home side. A strike force unrivalled by all but that at “the Lane” took a step back to allow Aderonskï to boss the park. 12-11. As the bossa nova rhythms kicked in, he put on a display of Ipanema karaoke in celebration. The crowd, of course, went "Ahhh."

The forestry commission are looking into complaints, as the robust tree trunks and maturing pine saplings which were ever present all season in mid-field were lacking. Environmental groups are said to looking into why such a green belt was destroyed, as if overnight. The middle of the park was, as a consequence, carnivalesque, a bull run, a feast for any forward thinking forward with a forward-thinking mind. Such nights are made for the likes of Jay-Jay Lohmann and Al Kinghali. They queued up like urchins outside the January sales or compulsive podders outside Apple’s London HQ eager to convert the cash of their team’s hard-won scoring chances into the sofa or podphone of goals. But gravity, wind, voodoo and vindaloo seemed to conspire against them as mysterious near and far misses heaped on the agony for the visitors.

The excuses of the teams being depleted by the African Cup of Nations and transfer issues were numbed by what was on offer. A goal fest. An exhibition game, within a testimonial, within a game of dreams. Basically, a kaleidoscope of folly along with a thunderstorm of brilliance. It was a game which reached high levels on the Enjoyometer TM scale without giving too much to shout about. A game of many facets.

Conngiggskï having found a new robust approach to the game, clearly took out Coweyscatsi late doors, to the screams of the away crowd, who called for his head, in red. Never one to turn the other cheek ‘Giggskï seemed to relish his revenge, but then a bit of relish always comes in handy when that particular plate is served up, as it was tonight, cold. However, in Keano style, the ex-SundIreland winger took his hand and said, “I would have done the same”. What a pro, what a gent, what a gem in the tiara of the clubhouse cabinet.

Marmite PotM has to go to the Golden Booted J.-M. Turnbulletin. The fella (or garçon as he would say himself) has a gift which could not be diminished by any amount of post-match-analysis and slo-mo. Using these marvels of the modern world we can break down his contribution into three categories: twist, turn and shout. Modelling his tactics on a combination of several mid-50s rock n’ rollers and the forward play of the likes of Derek Doogan and Mike Summerbee, he twists from the hip, turns from the torso and lets the ball do the shouting as it whizzes its way into net past the keeper like a mosquito. At the final whistle he was presented the match ball for his 4-goal salvo only to be instantly refused the honour of taking it home, as the ball itself belonged to pitch number 3. The official ball was later retrieved in due course by Conngiggskï who had been responsible for the sole skied effort of the night. A record for the season, and it was off the thigh. Another one for Garth Crooks to mull over. All this as yet another name enters the player-manager hat

Players see darkly through transfer window

Well readers it seems to one and all that the transfer window has had an effect on all of DSPAFC and Monday night showed it in all its crystal clear double glazing glory. It was again a treat for all ages and one which will be remembered for an age.
A lot can happen in a week of the funny old game and this week was no exception. Not only were the numbers reversed, a 5v6 to a 6v5, but the teams ended up staring themselves in the mirror as through a glass darkly. We had a game not of two halves but of two weeks, with the core of DSPAFC’s first choice players of last week now signed for Colors of Benetton Utd and vice-versa. They say in football that a week is a long time. Well double that and here is what you get. Not that it lasted that long.

After the blog-ollocking which the team received via the internet from DSPAFC supremo Makkapakka McClaren, last week, the full squad made a much bigger impact not only on the hallowed turf, but in their timekeeping. At the time of the off, we were nearly off. It was ON!

There was a keenness about these athletes which some believe had been absent in recent times. Sure they look the part in their new kit, python-skin boots and the rest (not to mention Al Kinghali’s fetching scarf) but this week they played their part too. Eyes were focused. Their feet were another matter, but the warm up was bright and positive, wise-cracking, back-slapping and repartee straight out of the top drawer.

Despite Tabloid talk of possible point deduction and the administrators being called in, we welcomed back the player-team-treasurer Aderonskï, from a self-inflicted injury, sustained, some say, while fighting his way out of the club’s financial difficulties. He brought back not only his banter and skills, but also the piggy bank to which he has received several donations for the future survival of the club. (All donations have been passed on to the financial director and have been made for the sole purpose of the survival and development of the club).

The match itself was lively even before the off. Gizzabaldi picking his peeps for the game and taking on the complexities of selection for a 5v6 encounter. Colors of Benetton Utd v the Bibbers DSPAFC. As with last week the underdogs took the lead early doors, despite them being a player down. The windows of opportunity were numerous and they seemed to take each one in their stride. As the window analogy strained, the keeper rolled up his sleeves and got out his squeegie. He sprayed some windowlene passes and the vision in midfield greatly improved, while the strikers popped out of velux windows all over the final third to cause the Utd defence to open like a set of concertina doors, allowing their leaded stained glass window of a goal to be peppered with 5 in the first 23mins.

Memories of their demise from last week returned to these seasoned pros and they battened down the hatches for the torrent of attack which we all knew was forecast. Roperaroo had been preparing this cold front all week and as he unleashed a 25 yard screamer from the flanks DSPAFC knew there was going to be a storm to weather in the second half. When Gizzabaldi took over the gloves after the interval things took a turn for the worse. Through Cowescatsi and Gilesinho’s formidable Keegan n’ Tosh/Torvill and Dean/Archibald and... erm...Jones two-pronged attack and the effervescent Campellese playing just behind the front two, DSPAFC had taken a 7-1 lead at the interval but few in the crowd could have predicted the catalogue of embarrassments which was to follow. Two Carsons and a couple of Robinsons from Gizzabaldi’s stint between the posts in a 10 minute onslaught saw the swagger return to Colours of Benetton Utd, as they paraded around the arena in their eye-catching home pastel kit.

The goal tally at this point was almost equal to the totted up skying of the match ball, the likes of which we had never before seen. Pre match we had at least two. Another forced Jay-Jay Lohmann to take to his bike to retrieve it and several mid match made the fourth official’s game a confused one with the change of match ball every 4mins.

Coweyscatsi had a blinding return to form much like his hometown team SundIreland. Keano’s influence has made its way down south and he rightly left the field with the match ball. (No one really knows which one but it was the one they did not sky in the final late doors of the encounter). His only fault saw him miss a very very rare penalty. The ever vocal El Darrylinho appeared to have constructed an impregnable conservatory around his goal and made himself big, dancing and effin’ and jeffin’ to put off the seasoned pro. It worked but alas it was not enough. Darrylinho continued his coaching throughout with hollers of: “Back Door”, “Man On”, “Jockey”, "Track Back" and “make some Fu-king Kung-Fu space”. Oh the crowd loved it, especially the under 8’s who had received free passes for the school outing.

Coweyscatsi again appeared to have had further lessons in the Martial Arts and his Shaolin Soccer, wire enhanced, sliding tackle appeared again. Al Kinghali bore the brunt of it and Hansen, Lorro and Barnes all agreed that the media-savvy pro was lucky to not be cautioned. Again world-renowned referee Jorge Satantango saw nothing, his detox still not having given him that clarity both Gizzabaldi and Darrylinho dream of as they peruse the alcohol-free wine-list at the pavilion. 7-5 at the whistle.

Pavilion talk was brief, mainly detox and the Feb Retox. Lee Sharpe and hair products. Marmite MotM by unanimous decision went to C. Coweyscatsi.

Transfer possibilities and managerial unrest featured in the punditry. In: Sheringham, Lee Sharpe and Ginola. All have great hair and are player-manager material. With Makkapakka McClaren still refusing to give team talks except through powerpoint presentations and pre-recorded video, and insisting on conducting his preparation for big matches exclusively through Facebook, DSPAFC's directors are looking to bring back the feelgood factor. They have however told Shearer he can get lost. The hair has got to be right for the job. Gizzabaldi, last week told by DSPAFC that he is surplus to requirements and free to leave the club was snapped during the week by the paps checking out Chinese remedies. What has the modern game come to when a receding hairline is taken as an early indicator of relegation? Jol, Rafa, Gizzabaldi...who’s next for the axe?

Teddy endorses DSPAFC New Year regime

"I support the DSPAFC squad in all their New Year resolutions," Teddy Sheringham had revealed when Constantin Conngiggskï caught up with the seasoned (with oregano and other herbs) pro at Colchester’s pre-FA cup Third Round tie buffet. They could have done with the journeyman footballing legend, in his post “dentist’s chair” incarnation at any rate, this evening!

Consternation characterised the first fixture of 2008. With the crowd growing restless as minutes ticked by to 8.20 the official kick-off time was a distant memory by the time the teams exchanged pennants and the captains mumbled their barbed new year wishes. It was ON! Better late than never, but only just. Come on DSPAFC, think of your supporters. Kick-off 8.00pm! The match when it did start began as 2007 ended with Gizzabaldi side-footing the ball past the advancing visiting keeper. As the defence scratched their collective head and wondered if they had in fact linked arms and joined in ‘Old Lang Syne’ with Jools and the rest of the Hootenannies, and whether, rather, they were reliving the nightmare finish to the previous year, they came to their senses and realised that the television programme had in fact been recorded in October. This realisation brought scant relief, however, as at that point their season was full of hope, the collective thought bubble out of the collective head revealing at that time a selection of silverware and bonus money in pounds sterling, euros and all major currencies. By the time they had picked themselves up they were 4 goals down to the rampaging DSPAFC. The home team had themselves been dealt a setback early doors, with star midfielder King Sunny Ade Aderonskï sending news to the Arena about a “freak accident” said to have taken place the night before outside a Leicester Square watering hole. Speculation was rife that Aderonskï had broken the 36 hour curfew on drinking strictly enforced by DSPAFC supremo Makkapakka McClaren. His mishap on the pavement led to the predictable tabloid headline “Kerb your enthusiasm: tipsy Aderonskï’s night on tiles goes topsy turvy”.

Further astonishment lay in store as the home side’s fifth goal was not registered by the scoreboard and was only reinstated after French legend Jean-Michel Turnbulletin put away his 7th goal of the night. That this missing goal was a breathtaking garyowen-inspired “kick ‘n’ sprint (50 yards) ‘n’ tip” past the keeper solo effort by Garrattino only compounded the home side’s anger as they protested to referee Jorge Satantango, the fourth official and stadium officials.

Something was afoot. Could it have been the transfer window force-field created by the lines crossed as Robbie Savage and Nicholas Anelka passed each other at junction 21 on the M1? Nobody is sure but as the visiting team stretched their lead from 7-5 to 15-5 DSPAFC were subjected to taunts from the crowd, their manager repairing early doors to the pavilion. Referee Jorge Satantango did not seem his usual self. One wag suggested that his Marlboro Lights habit (10 a day like Gianluca Vialli), which the official had managed to quit following his ejection from the Big Brother: Celebrity Hijack show just in time to be allocated tonight’s fixture, had clouded his judgement and that he singled out known smokers, much like Zinedine Zidane, to bear the brunt of his withdrawal symptoms. As Conngiggskï, a player very much in the Zidane mould (regularly snapped by the paps outside the pavilion having a rollie), hit the decks after a series of wayward tackles, of the sort recommended by Alan Hansen to Tottenham Hotspur but taken a bit too far as seen on MotD, it was easy to be persuaded to this way of thinking. Get some patches Satantango! Adding insult to injury the groggy-headed official satisfied his craving for nicotine by breathing in instead the air of DSPAFC fans’ disgust as he called a series of debatable high balls, handballs and other “infringements”. Appeals by DSPAFC following Coweyscatsi's "Shaolin Soccer-style mawashi geri wire-assisted traversal of the pitch" (to quote teammate Turnbulletin) to flatten Garrattino with an illegal flying mawashi geri were waved away by referee Jorge Satantango. "I saw nothing," said the referee after the match, "although video playback shows evidence of a wire apparatus to which Coweyscatsi may have been attached during the alleged incident, which I did not see."

This of course is to take nothing away from the visiting team, and especially 10-goal Turnbulletin, whose 12 week absence seemed only to add to his accuracy. Gilesinho unveiled a pair of custom made boots. Their apparently elfin proportions were a decoy, however, as they expanded and contracted depending on the run of play. The botox-enhanced carapace of the boot (fashioned from the same python as the handbag of a top footballer’s wife) was surely responsible for at least 80% of one of his audacious finishes this evening, while the Celebrates! TM enzymes that are released upon scoring to propel the scorer into a choice of three demonstrations of delight, ranging from the old-style fist in the air leap to the double somersault with baby’s nappy unfurling from the shorts upon landing, also kicked in when he skied the ball with the boots’ first touch during the warm-up. A hiccough which was well timed at the end of the day, you’ve got to say.

Other highlights included the solid tackling of Al Kinghali, a player who had the demeanour of one sitting under the festive tree hoarding the Scalectrix, Subbuteo and Top of the Pops cover version (or, for younger readers, the just as crap Now That’s What I Call Music originals) album all to himself, such was the determination to hold on to the ball. Jay-Jay Lohmann was in and out of the game à la Berbatov, but just like the Bulgarian you can never rule him out. Wolfkaiser treated the game like a stroll in the park with his beloved dog, Sandy. But blasting the ball wide at 15-5 when faced with an open goal and calling out “fetch!” to the home keeper was taking it just a tad too far

DSPAFC can of course do without the negative headlines concerning lager-fuelled mishaps and 10 goal deficits as they prepare for next week’s much anticipated confrontation with the petro-dollar fuelled all-star, steroid-enhanced-ego-bestrewn, globalisation-endorsing Colours of Benetton Utd. The pundits will be reaching for the superlatives as we speak.