FOOTBALL’S FIRST CREDIT CRUNCH
OLD BAG: This is an archive story from Issue 269 - 20 Oct 2008
Jeremiah: Old block off of which Johnny was chipped
Old Diptherians: classic side
Jeremiah: 'Actually it was exactly like that in my day'
Pundit Senior ‘tells it like it is’
You young whippersnappers: sit up straight when you’re reading me. Do you good to point your ‘browser’ at something else than young women in improbable states of undress.
Leaking onions
Now look here. IÂ’m Jeremiah Pundit. And I can tell you when I write a column, it stays written. IÂ’m standing in for Junior, whoÂ’s allowed off games this week as his fetid fruitcake of a wife has trouble with her onions or some such, the Doctor thinks theyÂ’re leaking I gather, so heÂ’s staying at home, feeding her grapes and reading her his memoirs. If that doesnÂ’t dull the pain, I donÂ’t know what will.
Rotters
So here I am. And I can assure you that weathering ninety-nine winters, and owning a face like a naturist’s scrotum on a blustery day won’t prevent me telling you young rotters ‘like it is’. Don’t think football clubs haven’t been in dire financial straits before, for instance; oh no. When I played for Old Diptherians back in ’13 I remember when we offered Miggleton Rovers the then obscene amount of two oranges for burly outside half Erasmus Cod. It nearly bankrupted us.
A jug of fresh cream
An orange was a commodity in short supply in those days; turned out we werenÂ’t even pronouncing it right. We were heavily in debt, and worse, we single-handedly caused transfers fees to rocket. The following week, Harry Blithe went to Menthol Town for six bananas and a peck on the cheek from the ChairmanÂ’s wife; and HM Government felt obliged to step in after Anthony St.Thursday joined Ankle Wanderers for twelve cranberries and a jug of fresh cream.
Pointless
As for us, with those two oranges hanging around our neck, at least it was 1913. Suffice to say I have never been more grateful for a pointless global conflict in which millions unnecessarily perished. How lucky was that?
Stop picking your nose and snivelling,
The father of
Johnny Pundit
