Rastrick Gentlemen Spoofers began their Cup campaign with a trip to Lepton to face Thompson Cooling, and ended their Cup campaign around 2 hours later after another toe-curlingly poor performance in the field.
The Spoofers are becoming increasingly concerned over the whereabouts of their missing Captain, AJ Goneaway. After a brief flurry of enthusiasm in October, the Fantasy League Drinking Champion of Rastrick in 2017 appears to have lost considerable interest since that point and now hasn't been spotted for many weeks.
Captaincy responsibilities were passed to club stalwart and renowned social media blogger, Sir Terence FW Hions0, in spite of serious question marks over the weathered warrior's leadership credentials. Hions0 turned up having no idea who was playing for him and having made no visible preparation so the scoring was once again completed by carving rudimentary shapes into the clubhouse wall with a small stone, seeing as there is seemingly nobody capable of buying a scorebook, let alone contacting our scorer to let him know when we are playing.
The usual problems with availability once again blighted the Spoofers but there was reason to rejoice in the return of their law enforcing medium pacer Damian Roebuck. Damian has suffered a traumatic time in his professional life as he continues to be thwarted by the case of the dastardly Yorkshire Dipper, the diabolical villain who has been pushing numerous victims into the canal whilst laughing in the face of our thin blue line. As the overtime budget finally begins to dwindle, Roebuck can no longer spend his afternoons by the canal in Mirfield, with a box of Krispy Kremes, 24 Freddo's, some of his favourite gentlemen’s periodicals and, of course, his trusty notebook and pencil. The salad-dodging sub-standard sleuth has enjoyed many afternoons by the canal relaxing in a gentlemanly fashion, farting and playing pocket billiards to a high standard, disturbed only by splashing noises and screams in the near distance, followed by villainous cackling and the sound of running footsteps. In Roebuck's defence, he has blown his whistle on many occasions and given pursuit wearing oversize clown shoes and waving an inflatable truncheon but he has still failed to even catch a fleeting glimpse of the dastardly Dipper. He recently saw a white Mitsubishi disappear into the distance, but this is the closest he has ever come to capturing this most perfidious propeller of pedestrians.
A debut was handed to Clifton Rangers supremo Marcus Haigh, who hasn't played cricket before and you will shortly learn that he should never play cricket again. We also welcomed the return of Doctor Jock, a regular contributor who was eating his first free supper of the season.
Former sportsman Ginger Keith Wilson was once again unavailable for selection as he was apparently picking up his new car. It’s funny that, because it doesn’t seem like 6 months ago since he bought that new Mitsubishi. Most of his Spoofer colleagues find it odd that he should change his car so frequently and with such apparent urgency.
Moving on to the actual game, the Spoofers elected to bat first and actually managed to score at a decent rate before Roebuck failed to detect where the gaps were and was caught for a miserable 2 runs. However, Selfish Scott Wood and Buddha lookalike Jason Middleton put together a useful partnership as Wood batted with his usual callous disregard for anything that doesn't directly benefit him or swell his already grotesquely over-inflated ego. Middleton went on to top score with 44 and a late partnership between Steve Holroyd and Nathan Shaw saw the Spoofers through to a surprisingly competitive total of 123-3 off their 13 overs. Holroyd was fully prepared as usual, turning up half way through the innings and consequently he had no idea that the innings had finished as he continued patting the pitch down until he looked around and saw nobody else on the field.
In reply, the tactically astute Hions0 decided on the policy of opening with his slow bowlers and this looked like a masterstroke as this Correspondence struck in the second over with a smart caught behind. At the other end, Paul Carter took a quick wicket with a stumping from the Spoofers' new supremo.
At this point it was looking good for the Spoofers but once again, their fielding let them down. Debutant Haigh (pictured) had an early taste of the action with a routine chase along the boundary but somehow managed to fall over early into his first step and, after falling to the floor, tried unsuccessfully to execute a front crawl along 25 yards of solid earth as he watched the ball trickle over the boundary line 25 yards away. However, worse was to follow .... much much worse as Haigh attempted to catch a straightforward ball at midwicket and somehow managed to end up facing the wrong direction and as the ball fell straight through his talentless hands he proceeded to volley it a full 30 yards for a boundary. This absolute moron couldn't throw the ball 30 yards. In fact, his miserably lacking motor skills wouldn't permit him to pick it up off the floor to even allow him to try throwing it 30 yards. The obvious anger in these words is in no way connected to the fact that it was my bowling figures being brutally violated in the worst possible way by this man's supreme incompetence.
So just how bad at cricket is Marcus Haigh? Well, let's take the concept of the 'super turd' explored in the report for the last game: The idea is that you take a lump of excrement roughly the size of Barry White's finest Boxing Day effort and allow this super-sized filth to give birth to an even more concentrated Bungle's finger. The experts at the Spoofer's Laboratory have taken the concentrated Brown Trout and removed the indigestible food matter, the cholesterol, other fats, and the calcium and iron phosphate. After a complicated final procedure to remove any traces of protein and add in some enriched uranium, the final and diabolical creation is 100% pure shit. A sulphurous weapons-grade triumph of chemical engineering that Walter White could not make any purer. Trust me, if the Devil himself had released a chocolate hostage of this flawless quality, he would look back over his shoulder and point a significant nod of respect towards his infernal privy. You can not get any shittier than this perfect King Kong's Thumb. Unless you are Marcus Haigh.
Super Turd Haigh wasn't the only culprit as Roebuck was also guilty of hopelessly misjudging a boundary catch and tipping it over for 6 (also off this Correspondent). The Yorkshire Tipper then missed another one (I think you can guess who was bowling) as he was clearly distracted by unsolved canal crimes. The missed chances were costly as Thompson Cooling eventually took complete control and cruised home with 7 balls and 8 wickets to spare as Ubergruppenfuhrer Walker failed to complete the simple task of bowling a maiden to save the game.
The Spoofers are now free to concentrate on the League which continues with an away fixture to NatWest, which has actually already happened but I can't be arsed to write two reports in one night. Journalism of this flawless quality takes time.