A fairy story in tribute to the brave heroes of Gillingham Football Club - who deserve Victoria Cross medals for valour in the conflict with the enemy. Ye olde camel brings his fight to Yorkshire. A meaningless fairy story of drivel - written ever so gently - with romance and tongue-in-cheek humour - with no personal offence intended to the brave heroes who gave their all for Gillingham Football Club. This camel travelled to a land far, far away to see his knights at play. These heroes wore the heraldic colours of blue and white and were always up for a fight. (enough of the poetry !) It was a beautiful day - which started with my fair Lady Marion ( not her real name ) awakening me with her soft, gentle kisses on my lips - to urge me to make mad passionate love to her. She was afraid that she would never see me again and begged me not to go to battle. Many minutes later,even though she was totally 'fulfilled' by our romantic entanglement, my fair maiden insisted on replenishing me with a whopper of a breakfast - a full English, fit enough for any (burger)King. It was much better than any humple pie (camel variety) As I put on my replica suit of armour, my faithful good wife begged me not to leave her side - she desperately needed me as her champion. "Worry not, my second love (Gills are No.1-but don't tell her) - I travel to vanquish the foe - to save this green and pleasant land." She stood there - broken hearted as I mounted my steed. " Go Peugeot -ride swiftly" to assemble with the army waiting for the King(sferry coach). We formed into a mighty troop (less than 50) and journeyed forth (north) Our giant leader (Peter Lloyd) held aloft Excaliber ( his microphone ) as he gave his battle cry ( coach rules ). We would have many miles to go before we would reach our foe. We would grow weary along the route. We would have only a brief stop on the great road north ( M1) - no time was to be lost - the enemy needed to be put to the sword - and swiftly. We knew our enemy would be formidable and would have many citizens cheering for their favourites. These dark forces of evil ( no racism intended ) would be waiting for us - maybe looking to ambush us whilst we were still weary from our long journey. We must be ready to engage in the battle at all times - to concentrate and never take a step backwards or skip over the lunges of our opponents -lest we lose sight of our goal - 3 points, the spoils of war for the victor. (It's the result that matters - not the performance ) We travelled to our destination without word - some even took the last chance to gain some rest - to gain strength for the battle ahead. We were quiet now - but soon we would be shouting our victory song. At a strange place called Valley Parade the troops dismounted and began to scatter in many directions - searching for a safe place to take in water - We needed to be alert - so as not to enter into enemy strongholds ( home pubs ). We had to stay as one strong unit. The enemy would already be fuelled up and would slaughter any scout who ventured alone. As we closed in on the field of war our numbers was swelled by the faithful ranks of brave legions who travelled alone or in small groups. The troops laid siege to a local inn called Haigys. We discussed our battle plan - but none of us knew what General Taylor would do and which battilion of men he would first engage - oh they looked so young to be trusted with such responsibilities. Young Knight Jake bore much weight of expectation on his shoulders - could he tackle the enemy with the same ferocity as his father before him - Mighty, Mighty Andy Hessenthaler - the Greatest emperor we have ever known - and could young Jake fire his arrow long (40 yards) and true ? Just before the hour of battle, Captain Barrett led his brave, brave 9 men and Myles Weston onto the battlefield. Black Knight Weston had the most dangerous task to perform - he had to battle on the flanks and challenge the fearsome evil knights who say "Ni" - oh where can Sir Weston find a shrubbery - use your head dear sir - it's so much better than your feet ! Our soldiers looked resplendent in their colours. They were majestic - I swear I could see haloes over their heads - but there was a war to be waged - a fight to be won - before the spoils were to be grasped by the victorious army - for the 3 precious points to be brought back to our fortress called Priestfield. The pitch started as green and lush - but was soon to be down trodden and turned red as the brave troops engaged in mortal combat and shed blood for the cause. No soldier 'chickened' out as they displayed great heroism and bravery whilst locked in crunching tackles with the enemy. Many men fell - We held our breath when our bravest warrior - gallant Knight Lee fell once more - please let it not be ligaments of the knee !But brave,brave, ever so brave Sir Lee stood up. We could see blood spurting from his severed leg - surely he would die - nobly for the cause - No - he waved and defiantly shouted "Tis but a scratch - a mere flesh wound" as he tossed his leg away and carried on in play. The battle raged for what seemed like 90(+) minutes. When the trumpet blast was sounded that the war was over - the enemy had been slain. The camels would be returning home with the a prize greater than the Crown Jewels - - three precious points for L1 survival. And so the victorious warriors returned home under twirling colours, returning to feast on huge humple pies and to quench their thirst on gallons of amber nectar, Carling - and nothing would stop them cheering and clapping and singing their triumphant song..... G--ills G--ills G--ills. yes - I know the match score was 1-1 ( but I did say it was a fairy story )
It was an eventful enjoyable trip and the beer was a plenty. Excellent play on words my friend, which like i always insist, the day is about more than just the football and what a pleasant one it was.
Yep……a decent result is just the icing on the cake of a good day out. Nice read….thanks.
