Aladdin's Cave "THE TRY" Funnies Index
A story written by a conglomerate of "The Forum" members
 

Barnsey: OK, Ollie. There’s a pause in the play. Let’s see how that move has unfolded so far.

Ollie: Well first of all, Stewey, that’s a mighty fine mess Saints have got themselves into.

It started (roll VT) with…   Craig stealing Saints lineout ball on Warriors 5m line,

In the shade of the willow tree, the sun-drenched green sward stretching before the 15 men in blue and gold, the noise from the Southies -- Warriors! Warriors! -- drawing them like a siren towards the try line, 90m away…   …

Craig taps down, straight into the waiting hands of the seasons most under-rated Number 9, Matt Powell…  

… Powell, realising that the ref’s indicated an infringement in the lineout and signalled a Wuss advantage, tries his trademark box kick and finds that the Saints aren’t concentrating...

the chase is on (VT playback drowned out by “Warriors! Warriors!”)…

… Matt plays everyone onside, but the ball takes an awkward bounce and comes back 3 metres into the outstretched arms of Horse, who takes the ball forward another 12 metres before being tackled and going to ground. He lays the ball back and the ruck goes over him...  

… Tim Collier picks up at the base of the ruck, head down, doing a Desperate Dan impression, swatting tacklers out of the way, over the half way line, tap tackled,

OH NO! Knocks on into the hands of Tom Smith... advantage Saints...  

… Saints about to be given advantage, but touch judge calls ref back to some foul play he spotted in the lineout, the ref calls over the two captains…  

(As the chant of “Warriors! Warriors!” dies down momentarily, the sound of Hylts --doing an impression of JP

-- drifts in from out wide: “I’m on the wing boys!!!!” Chuntering away as he drags himself back again…

“Rotten out here on the wing, freezing mi bits off, its alright for the bl***y forwards having lots of cuddles, no-one comes and cuddles me….

“Oh, we’re off again".

Go for it! "Bl***y hell captain, Njinsky couldn’t have got that… Might as well start talking to myself again". “I’m here guys, over here, I am still alive you know.”

(Back to studio) Barnsey: Let’s hold the VT there, Ollie. Is that JP over there on the wing, or is it Hylts, or is it someone asleep in the West stand?”

   

 

Barnsey: Could I check the team sheet please? Is JB back yet? Is TH on at 10 or in the centre to take the long-range kicks?

Ollie: It doesn’t matter. The ref calls both teams back to the lineout. It would appear that the offence is supporters chattering among themselves and not concentrating on the thread started by Bagsy the Bun.

Ref tells the captains that if their supporters don’t discipline themselves, then a penalty will be awarded…


The line’s re-set to where Virtual Athlete left it. Northampton to throw. Looks like two minutes left on the clock but, due to a huge hunting horn blocking the view, it could be a bit more.

Normal programme errors mean that there could be just about any player on the field and on the bench….

Play resumes... musical chairs in the line, everyone misses it (even Craig!), too long and over the back. James is on to it but runs straight into two tacklers and loses the ball forwards....

… However Spreadbury is in charge (?) and calls a penalty to Saints as we’re getting too close to scoring a try.

Barnsey: What do you mean ‘we’re getting too close to a try’?

Ollie: There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you all season, Stewey…

… Meanwhile, My Babber can take no more.

“What’s the bl***y score!?” he rants. “I can’t see because the South Stand score-board boys are absent without leave again! This is no good for me! Matron! My pills!”

“6-6, two minutes on the clock,” Virtual yells…

… Shane Drahm picks up the ball and wipes it dry on his chest. He eyes the touchline along the West Stand, squinting into the afternoon sun, as he calculates the ball’s intended trajectory…


“That’s the spot,” he mutters to himself. “Straight towards that bloke in the Warriors hat and the glasses.”

He picks out the Warriors supporter jumping up and down, waving his arms about like a possessed dervish, manically screaming the monolyrical club chant,

“WAAARRRIIIOOOORSSSS! WARRRIIIOORRRSSS!” among the mass of dozing Westies quietly sipping their luke-warm cocoa…

   
To Be Continued