REFEREE McFUDDLE ...in which Joe dishes the dirt on Creamem Sourness!
"Joe, why is it that you never took up management at the very top level?" This is the question I am always never asked and the answer I always give is that I'm a brass roots sort of a bloke and I could never swap the whistle for the cigar. But it can get just as hot, I can tell you! However, next week I was reading an article about the Most Difficult Job in Football. Could it be about trying to knock Cowps off the ball or maybe even the difficulties of getting five and a half pints down the hutch in the Blue Boar at half-time? No, it features a Mr Graeme Sourness! Well, being a veterinarian of our great game, I first came across old Creamem some twenty years back. He was captaining Auchtymuchty Boys Club in an under-16's game I was controlling. He was quite outstanding even then - I think it was the moustache, but he inevitably ended up taking the wrappers off the soap due to his constant talking to the officials during the game. After half an hour of his whingeing, I had had enough and sent him on the long bath. No player says "Direct, ref?" to me without facing the music I can tell you. My linesman that day was my good friend and colleague Alan Hulmerless who wanted to bag him just before the kick-off when he deliberately shouted "Heads!" at me, but I turned a blind eye to that one. Any road up, where were we? Oh yes, toughest job in football. I bet our own beloved Ray Wilkins could cock a snook at that one. Did Sourness have to drive for three hours for a home game, try and discover who's been at the Marsh's, who's had a night or two on the stiles, who's left the top off the toothpaste (I could go on and off) then ask for a whip round for the petrol money back to Goatshead! If Cowps is God, then Wilkins must be Moses, at least. But then one or two supporters started giving him a hard time just because we lost the odd game. They must be suffering from ambrosia and should remember some of his predecessors. One man who couldn't handle the red hot iceberg that is Holker St. was Brian Kidd, who is now inexplicably Alec Fergus's no. 2 at Old Stretford. Never was a man more aptly named, because let's face it, he Brianed quite a few people here during his reign. Remember how he brought in all his old Stalebread Celtic 'stars' who contributed so little they were frequently added to the attendance figures! How many bad buys did Ray make? And Graeme? But enough comparisons for here in our new modern journalistic style at Give Them Rice! are: TWENTY THINGS YOU DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT CREAMEM SOURNESS... Fictional character Darth Vader from Star Trek was based on him. He wore running spikes for one season to 'enhance performance' He does a lot of good work for charity and once supplied all the patients for St. Stanley's hospital on Merseyside. He is still wanted for attempted murder in Rumania following a challenge during an international match there. During another international a tackle was so late, the deceased was entering passport control at the airport. Er... 8., 9., etc. That's it. Another boss I greatly admire is TV's Gabriella Bonkers (Cherie Lingerie) in ITV's Trainer series. How do you think our boys would handle it under Ms. Bonkers? We'd have to get an extinction on the dugout for sure. Talking of changes to the hallowed ground I hear the merger with our counterprats at Craven House is being bandied about again and we could be on the move, which is regrettable as I understand the Raze The Roof Organisation were about to reveal plans for their ambitious multi-million Phil Cowing Stand. I fancied a box in the Royston Taylor Wing for me and the wife but it could be in jeopardy, which would be a hell of a run for me old Borris 1100 to get to. We'll have to wait and see. But then, a move to Crazy Park would be better than the grounds featured in issue 008 of Rice! At least the rugby have got floodgates! We certainly saw the dark sides of Bath, Gateshead, Boston and Wigcomb. Still, black is my favourite colour and it made a change from reading about burgers and pies. Anyway, as I missed the festive edition of Rice!, I would like to wish our readers a belated Merry Christmas and tell them to get behind the lads in the New Year to put a smile on everyone's fist. And as I'm still feeling seasonal, you will find a good joke (much as I despise them) from me directly above this column.
Joe's Joke A young soldier on desert patrol shortly after the Gulf War finds an object in the sand. On closer inspection he finds it to be an ancient lamp. He blows away the sand and gives the surface a rub with his sleeve. Enormous cloud of smoke, a flash of lightning (you guessed it) and one startled soldier. Soldier: Flippin' 'eck! Genie (surprise, surprise): Master your wish is my command! Soldier: Erm, er! (pulls out map of Middle East) I want peace throughout all this land so I can get back to my missus back home. Genie: Master, a thousand pardons, but it is impossible to bring peace to this land because of many many years of religious differences and bitterness. I'm sorry. Downcast, the soldier starts to walk away. Genie: Master, you still have your wish. Soldier: Okay then, I want Enfield to get back in the Conference, win that and then to get into the League. Genie (rubs chin): Hmmmm! Let me see that map again, master!
'til next time... get right back TEN yards Joe McFuddle Issue 010 - February 1992