In Competition 3359 you were invited to present an account of a historical event as football commentary. There were enough Battles of Hastings and Waterloo to fill a page but it seemed necessary to include some other deciders. Since so much footballese relies on war metaphors, it all gets quite confusing. I was sorry not to have room for Brian Murdoch’s
entry in which ‘the French WAGs back in the fanzone at Bayeux are already embroidering their win’. The following receive £25.
25 September 1066.
Welcome to Stamford Bridge, where England face Norway. The winners will meet France at Hastings, knowing a win there would make the team of ’66 national heroes, whilst a defeat would be one in the eye for already under-pressure King Harold. England line up with an all-Saxon front line, while Norway include Harald Hardrada and, intriguingly, the King’s brother, Tostig, joining them on a free transfer only yesterday! Norway get us underway, in their iconic Viking helmets, while England carry their now-familiar assortment of bows, pikestaffs and spears. In the absence of a referee, the encounter has already become very physical, injuries mounting up on both sides. Oh! And what’s this? Some people are on the bridge! They think it’s åll øver. It is now! England have won! Hey, Peer Gynt! Odin! Thor! Trolls! Krakens! Your boys took one hell of a beating! William of Normandy, we’re coming for you!
David Silverman
Well, welcome back to Senlac Hill where neither side has made a significant breakthrough after nearly nine hours! Epic! William the Bastard’s men have shown plenty of attack but the Saxon defensive wall has been rock solid … and now King Harold’s rallying his men to his Standard and they’re resuming their classic 4-3 formation with their shields over their heads! We’re still waiting for the housecarls to break out … oh yes, and there they go – can their axes carve a way through? No, blocked again! Remember these men have been on their feet almost continuously since Stamford Bridge last week … now the Norman horsemen are starting to mount a strong challenge on the right flank … but wait! They’re falling back and some of the Saxons are breaking ranks to pursue them! Could this be a turning point? The King’s there keeping an eye out in case of something unexpected…
J.C.H. Mounsey
The Carolingian displayed pluck facing the Cromwellians alone in this crucial if inevitably one-sided Whitehall derby. There’d been a lot of pre-match talk, all of it from Charles I, that God would be on his side, but the famously omnipotent all-rounder once again neglected to show despite Charles I sporting two shirts, implying a duo against the might of the Lord Protector’s men, but guarding only against the shivers. Charles took the decision to mount his defence verbally, a miscalculation before a hostile crowd requiring no vuvuzelas to drown out his protestations of martyrdom. A Cromwellian scored with cavalier aplomb. An outlandish barnet that may have been a wig prevented your reporter identifying the team member in question but his incisive decapitation of Charles’s offensive capability was accomplished with an efficiency few pundits are going to want to quarrel with, everyone agreeing the Carolingian cause dead for a generation.
Adrian Fry
It’s January 1649,
And Charles I, who plays for Kings Divine,
Will face the opposition one last time:
The Parliamentary Sulkers, dressed in black,
In 4-4-2, with Cromwell at the back,
Refuse to take the knee, but just attack.
Their striker wears a hood and gives a glare
(He’s wanted by Madrid, where kings are spare),
Then practises his axe-swish in the air.
He’s got one chance – just one – to get it right
(The artists will be sketching him tonight),
With not a hint of V.A.R. in sight!
The King sets down his neck upon the block,
And hearts within the crowd begin to knock:
The axe goes up – and thud! – the head must roll:
It’s a basket! It’s a touchdown! It’s a gooooaaaal!
Nicholas Lee
There were tense scenes at the Mont St Jean arena last night where an England side, struggling for form, came up against a revitalised French outfit marshalled by wily Corsican, Napoleon. England, led by experienced gaffer and renowned defensive tactician, Wellington, adopted a controversial four-deep formation, bringing strength at the back but drastically reducing firepower. Faced with repeated French assaults there was some desperate defending from the home squad, and in a nerve-jangling climax they suffered a further blow when key player Uxbridge had his leg taken from under him by an explosive French shot. He kept his cool though and a late substitution in injury time, seasoned campaigner Blücher, proved decisive. The French attack melted away and England clinched victory. Afterwards Wellington described his men as a great bunch of lads but conceded that it was carnage out there, the nearest–run thing you ever saw in your life.
Sue Pickard
‘Well Gary, it was always going to come down to a penalty shoot-out.’
‘Yes Steve. You couldn’t make it up.’
‘You probably could Gary. It’s not Hamlet. Penalty
shoot-outs are common.’‘Absolutely Steve.’
‘You can cut the tension with a cliché as the players step up to decide who will win this general election. First up for Labour Ravers, it’s Angela Rayner in wide green shorts. She runs up and… oh my word, she’s tripped over her voluminous legwear, headbutted the turf and missed the ball completely.’
‘Unbelievable Steve.’
‘Well, not really Gary… oh, never mind. Now it’s Liz Truss for Tories Disunited… with a horrible miscalculation, miles over the bar.’
‘Yes Steve, I think she killed a pigeon.’
[Five minutes later.]
‘So that’s it, all over. Ten penalties, all missed, but Labour Ravers are champions because their ball was first past the post.’
‘Amazing Steve. Tories Disunited are gutted.’
Joseph Houlihan
No. 3362: As they prefer it
You are invited to submit a passage from Shakespeare that has been rewritten by the sensitivity reader (16 lines/150 words maximum). Please email entries to competition@spectator.co.uk by midday on 7 August.
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