Since my last epistle we have seen the possibly permanent but definitely definite departure of a much-loved forward, Mr. Lucien Ponsonby, who hath decideth, as he decideth everything, with a big Mozzarella eating grin, that he shall be plying his trade for the Milan Internationals. I have managed to find the only picture in existence of him not smiling. And here it is.
Lucien, known as ‘The Demented Bishop’, arrived from Bristol City back in 2012 following a groundbreaking operation some six years previous to graft a useable left leg onto his body.
Up until that point the chap had been a pedestrian general left-sided midfield attacking player in the English football’s fifth tier. Famous in the pubs of Bristol for his ‘epic banter’ but generally regarded as a bit of a lazy chancer on the football pitch he finally realised that his existing left leg was almost completely useless as a weapon and placed himself on the NFDL, or Needy Footballers Donor List.
Set up by ex-Arsenal totem Big Chief Tony Stalking Horse, Arsenal’s legendary alcoholic Native American captain, the NFDL provided transplants of body parts to footballers in need. It was an almost entirely unsuccessful venture. Mr. Robbie Savage sadly never received the brain he requested, nor Mr. Bellamy the neck, and Mr. Merson remained completely reliant on his right foot for his entire career. The one notable success was that of Mr. Ponsonby.
In November of 2006 a donor leg became available. The leg in question was that of Ferenc Puskás, one of the greatest players of all time. When Mr. Puskás passed away in November 2006 his family selflessly donated his left leg to the NFDL and an operation at Bristol General Hospital was successful. Soon the effects of having the left leg of a man who had scored 509 goals in 523 appearances became apparent and the footballer we came to know and love was born: the left leg of a genius attached to a player who would just about knock in seven or eight goals per season in the Vauxhall Conference.
And so it came to pass last week that Mr. Windsor could tolerate his inconsistency no more. Although his “AHA”ing will leave London Colney a somewhat quieter place, dare we imagine that a salary has been freed up for the January arrival of a more luxurious striker? No, we expect not.
We move to the matter of the glove butler in the shower. It seems that these days there is some groundswell of leftist opinion that tobacco may have some small detrimental effects on the body. I am now almost 137 and I have been smoking a wide variety of dried plant matter since I was four. In my view the healthy inhalation of tobacco is health-giving and delightful.
However, it seems that Mr. Sesley was smoking a cigarette. Cigarettes are of course only allowed for outfield players. As a reminder here is the chart. This may also prove instructive to outspoken colonial nitwit John W. Henry:
GLOVE BUTLERS: Pipes
DEFENCE: Cigarettes
MIDFIELD: Rollups
FORWARDS: Cigars
So his only crime was one of taste. He has complied with the Law of Footballing Tobacco Consumption in the past as this photograph demonstrates. And doesn’t he look splendid? So my message to Mr. Sesley would be: Go and dig out your pipe and pack it with some lovely gold block or similar.
You may find that the rumination and reflection that pipe smoking enables may enlighten him on some of his recent glove-butlery decisions.
