A New Football Season begins in a new division at Bramall Lane.

Like a Gallon of Woodbines

This story first appeared last year as the last of my Pig Tales. Not all the short stories in the book are much cop, to be honest, but I still like this one, especially as it was one of those "stream of consciousness" events. Sometimes, when you have too much time for editing, you can ruin the feel of a tale by tinkering with it too much. This one benefits from being a first & only draft.

Well, I think so any road!

LIKE A GALLON OF WOODBINES

 

Jess Ennis ran her last lap at the Don Valley Stadium on the day that Wednesday and United were playing in the semi final of the Youdan Cup. The OCS and the BBC met for a fight in t’Oil int Rooad, causing shoppers to take cover in C&A while they waited in vain for Superintendent Duckenfield of South Yorkshire Police to get a squad together to deal with the trouble.

 

Down at Roxy’s nightclub Susan and Joanne had arranged to meet Phil but he had gone to Josephine’s by mistake. Martin saw them and tried to chat them up but they snubbed him because they were still upset over what he had said. He cried.

 

Mila K saw some street art enthusiasts admiring a painting by Coloquix and called Kid Acne to talk to him about it. The Kid was busy compiling an advertising poster for Now Then magazine so he didn’t have time to discuss it, and suggested that Mila had a chat with Phlegm instead, but Phlegm was in Rome and consequently unavailable, while Faunagraphic had more pressing matters to deal with.

 

The Christmas lights on The Moor had attracted folk from all over the city and the trams were full. Joe Cocker and his son Jarvis were heading for Redgate’s to look for presents. Snow was falling and the pavements and roads were turning white. It looked like it was going to turn into a traditional Northern winter.

 

Down at Kelvin Flats, Gareh and Shazzah were hiding from the rent man. Gareh had been sacked from the steelworks after smacking the foreman and now they were well behind with the rent and living on dripping sandwiches and a dish Shazzah had invented consisting of tinned dog food drizzled with Henderson’s Relish. Down in the cellar Gareh quietly took out his i-Phone and made a discreet call to his uncle, George Mooney. He felt he could trust Uncle George to settle things with the rent collector but he wondered what favour George would request in return. It was unlikely to be an easy one.

 

The matter of the Rev. John Livesey, vicar of St Philips’ Church, and his rascally sexton Isaac Howard was the talk of the Rutland Arms. Sean Bean and Marti Caine were discussing the scandal of bodies being left unburied at Wardsend Cemetery and corpses being sold to the medical school for dissection. Marti said it would serve Livesey and Howard right if their houses were to be washed away in the Great Flood of 1864. Sean added that he wished Charlie Peace would pay them both a visit, along with his gun. When Bobby Knutt turned up accompanied by a pair of Peter Stringfellow’s dolly birds he sat down to join in the conversation and said that both the vicar and his accomplice should be made to sledge down the ski slope head first with no brakes, and that when they reached the bottom of the hill their remains should be turned into a giant meat pie instead of being given a decent burial. That would bloody teach them.

 

The arctic conditions outside had attracted some monkeys from High Green, whose presence, in turn, brought a lot of young people into the city to see them when they put on a show at the City Hall. Pete McKee turned up at the event and painted a picture of the monkeys which was later put on display at the Millennium Gallery.

 

At the Cutler’s Hall all the knives and forks had, naturally, been made in Sheffield. The Master Cutler had invited the actor Dominic West, newsreader Emily Maitlis and Lord Coe to his banquet. An after dinner speech was given by the Right Hon. David Blunkett and his dog, and musical entertainment provided by Richard Hawley. If the guests thought that was boring, they were then treated to Roy Hattersley reading excerpts from his biography of Lloyd George.

 

Tony and Rony were not invited to the banquet so they made sarcastic remarks about it on Radio Sheffield instead and were admonished by the station’s controller. Uriah Rennie and Keith Hackett were in the studio to talk about life as a football referee but Howard Webb comes from Rotherham so he was trapped in his hometown by EDL and BNP activists from Lancashire, Leeds and Newcastle and was unable to make it. When Neil Warnock heard that Rennie and Hackett were due to appear he asked to come in for an argument with them, but when he turned up he was batoned by officers of the South Yorkshire Police who mistook him for a striking miner. Dr Hill was so upset by the officers’ actions that after she had been to the football derby she rang Praise and Grumble to complain about it.

 

Despite the snow, it was a beautiful summer day and perfect for the cricket at Bramall Lane. Len Hutton was in great form with the bat but the fielders were having difficulties because the United and Wednesday teams were playing their football match on the outfield. When deep square leg tried to stop the ball reaching the boundary for a four he was heavily tackled by goalkeeper Bill “Fatty” Foulke and the trainer needed to come on to the pitch with a bucket of water and his magic sponge. The United fans laughed at the player’s predicament but were less amused when a mighty shot from Herbert Sutcliffe, which appeared to be going for a six, hit Derek Dooley on his head and bounced into the net. Wednesday’s celebrations were cut short when the ref disallowed the goal for offside.

 

That night, the Tell it to Tony page in the Green ‘Un was filled with letters complaining about the felling of trees on Rustlings Road. In solidarity with the trees, the residents of Nether Edge held a fundraising farmers’ market at which 5p from the sale of each rhino burger was put towards the cost of the High Court action against the Council. At an emergency meeting at Barker’s Pool the trees themselves considered strike action but a delegation of Blairite Labour and Liberal Democrat silver birches argued that to do so would only be likely to alienate the public and would consequently be detrimental to the campaign. Their arguments carried the day and the trees decided instead, on a show of branches, to present a petition against the cuts and to distribute leaflets around the city.

 

At Parson Cross WMC, tipsy, sexy women in tight dresses and tops collected their husbands and boyfriends, wished their friends goodnight and headed for home. Prince Naseem Hamed accepted a lift back from Owlerton dog track from Bomber Graham while Wonder Wasp, alone in her city centre apartment, reflected on a satisfactory day of action. She had spent the day outside Rotherham police station, where, by clever and selective stinging, she had managed to get the fascists to turn on each other and begin to fight amongst themselves. She treated herself to a glass of wine before pulling on her fleecy pyjamas and snuggling down in bed.

 

Unnoticed in a corner of the Crucible bar, a lone figure sat with pen and notebook in hand. He had been quietly observing and recording the day’s events, as he had done throughout his prolific career, in readiness for turning them into a topical poem. Felix Noonan, for it was he, reflected on the ephemeral nature of fame. Once Sheffield’s most celebrated writer, his star had been on the wane ever since MI5 and the CIA had conspired to ruin his reputation. The same could happen to the people whose names were on the lips of fashionable citizens right now. Would anyone remember Dave Berry in five years’ time? It was impossible to tell.

 

Noonan found a clean page in his book, chewed his pen for a moment and then began to write.

 

It were just another chuffin day in Sheffield