Itâ€™s Saturday 14th September, 1963 and the tellyâ€™s on.
The lounge at Predictorship HQ is set out for the assembled Predictors to watch the afternoonâ€™s match as WBA are first out on the pitch to begin their warm-up. Old Trafford is heaving with fans eager to catch a glimpse of new signing, George Best.
Top of the Predictorship pile, Janet Roberts has been re-coiffed to celebrate another successful week with silvery beads woven through her ever-enlarging beehive. However, as Janet sachays through the throng distributing peanuts, Chairman David (this weekâ€™s top non-joker scorer with 9 points) casts a menacing glare at the party in the corner discussing their successful Sunderland – Liverpool prediction, John Collins, Ralph Hannah, Alex Iskandar Liew, Steve McHugh, Ted Warland and Joe Zalewski who seem a little too interested in the constantly-swaying mini-skirt before them.
Turning back to the huddle, Ralph, who claims to have stepped out of something called a Hadron collider, is bragging to his bewildered audience:
â€˜No famous people to name drop this week…although I sat in the front row at Wembley on Wednesday and I think Crouch heard me shout his name…â€™
The group try to look impressed while glancing around to see if anybody knows what heâ€™s talking about!
Conveniently, the party is broken up by a flustered Nick Watson pursuing a pair of puffed-up Persians with bad attitudes heading between Janetâ€™s legs.
Gallantly swept out of the way by Dave Breeze before disaster strikes, the peanuts (and Janet) are saved. Dave, having played his joker to win a rather ostentatious 16 points to rise 13 places up the table, has been loitering around Janet all afternoon, smirking lasciviously at her with a rather unpleasant painted grin fixed onto his sallow complexion.
‘Shame about that train robbery last month,’ oozes Dave. ‘Poor driver eh? Do you think he saw who hit him?’
Janet smiles back politely and unpeels herself from Daveâ€™s oily grasp.
Predictors of the Week â€“ Rob Molloy, Sally Moon (Aston Villa 2-1 Chelsea) and Joe Zalewski (Sunderland 1-0 Liverpool) whoâ€™s just managed to extricate himself from Ralphâ€™s continuing monologue, move swiftly towards their seats as Dave makes his way towards them.
The match is about to begin and Baggieâ€™s boy, Mark Young still languishing at the bottom of the table, can be heard muttering to a red-carded Rob Dimery:
Finally the Moonerazzi has gone too far — as any self respecting connoisseur of high culture knows, “The Great Escape” is copyrighted to West Bromwich Albion fans. I understand she’s been in a dark, dank place with just meager rations for a few weeks, but this is a worse football violation than Sylvester Stallone playing a goalkeeper in “Escape to Victory.” Something has to be done: its time for “The Damned Predictorship United” moment: I’ll understand if you don’t break your china set at the next AGM at Predictorship HQ, but can we at least get a reprimand in the minutes? And by reprimand, I suggest a solitary confinement screening of “A Shot At Glory” while sitting on the cooler floor bouncing a baseball off the wall. If she drops the ball, then the movie goes back to the beginning.â€™
Donâ€™t you think youâ€™ve been watching too many movies Mark? Donâ€™t get me wrong, but think you might be loosing it a bit.