Following on from the Chocolatiers and the Greengrocers, I make no apology for this post. There were some commentary leftovers from the World Cup that I needed to get out of my system, and once again I couldn’t stop myself. However, I do promise that this is the last we will hear from Barry and Ron; well, at least until the next big tournament, maybe.
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“Good evening, everyone. It’s Barry Talker here with you again. Welcome to tonight’s big game, where we’ll see if the Politicians can turn things around and make progress in the competition. As for the weather tonight, a lot of hot air has been forecast at pitch level, exactly the conditions that these Politicians are used to. I understand that many of the team only agreed to play when they heard they might be able to hit the bar during the game. With me as usual in the commentary box is Ron. What sort of team shape do you think we’ll see tonight, Ron?”
“Well, Barry, with economic output a priority, a succession of managers have tried to play without strikers. It’s an understandable tactic, and none of them want to be up front anyway. The current manager, Tory, has a natural instinct to play conservatively. He’s had plenty to choose from on the right wing, but the left and centre are looking weak. There’s no place for Gerry Mander, of course.”
“Thanks, Ron. Our referee this evening is Mister Rendum from Wavering. He’s already had to sort out a dispute about the colour of the grass. The main parties are saying it’s unfairly promoting the Green Party, and it should be a neutral colour. Absolutely ridiculous, Ron.”
“Yes indeed, Barry. The ref’s other problem is that these politicians instinctively dislike whistle blowers.”
“Very true, Ron. Anyway, he gets the game underway. The universally popular Suffrage is first to get into the action, spraying the ball around liberally. Lovely stuff. He passes it to Hustings, who huffs and puffs his way over the halfway line.”
“Voter is on the ball now. Voter puts a meaningful cross into the box. It doesn’t find anyone, Ron. A bit of a waste of time?”
“I think he should have elected to shoot instead, Barry.”
“They’re asking questions of the opposition defence now. Of course, asking questions is second nature to these guys, Ron.”
“Unlike giving answers, Barry. One thing’s for sure. They won’t want this to go to penalties. They hate being put on the spot.”
“Manny Festo has run around a lot. You can’t fault him for effort, but he seems to be running out of ideas now. He lifts a cross towards Bencher. Would you back Bencher to score, Ron?”
“Only if the keeper was sitting on the fence, Barry.”
“To me, Speaker is calling all the shots, letting everyone know he’s there. What do you think of Mister Speaker, Ron?”
“More like Mister Sitter, Barry. He should have scored.”
“Instead it comes to Ballot, who gets boxed in by a couple of defenders. He appeals to the ref, Rendum. The ref awards a free kick. Oh dear. Chancellor is warning the ref that next year, free kicks may not be free any more, as the funding for sport may be cut.”
“Now, Chancellor again, the number eleven on his back, with a treasure chest of experience, plays cautiously yet again, squeezing the life out of the game. He forces a taxing ball through to Budget, whose pass forward to Surplus is wide of the mark, and it’s picked up by Deficit instead. All he can do is run backwards. The manager, Tory, has decided it’s time for a change. He takes off Surplus and brings on Dick Taytor. What do you make of that, Ron?”
“Well, Barry, Dick Taytor is not really a team player, but if you allow him time and space, he’ll destroy you.”
“Yes indeed, Ron. We can see already that Taytor wants to play it his own way. He’s ignoring Mark Zist way out on the left wing. Zist is looking an isolated figure, apart from Picket, who goes flying past him. In fact, Dick Taytor is talking to the ref, who waves a red card at both Zist and Picket. They respond by waving the red corner flag at the ref. Taytor has just got two of his own players sent off.”
“Worse than that, Barry; the Scottish player, Nat Party, has drawn a line around his area of the pitch, and says he’ll only play to his own rules. It’s turning into a shambles.”
“Zist and Picket have refused to leave the pitch. In fact, they’re inciting the crowd to riot. What do you make of it, Ron?”
“It’s revolting, Barry. With all this infighting, I think they’ve lost sight of the goal. Tory should whip them into shape.”
“Now the manager is taking off Festo, and bringing on Brexit. Nearly fifty-two percent of the crowd give a big cheer. They’re expecting Brexit to make a difference but, correct me if I’m wrong, I don’t think we’ve ever seen Brexit before. Does he look like a soft or hard player to you, Ron?”
“Difficult to tell, Barry. You can see the rest of the team don’t know what he’s like either.”
“I think he’s telling the rest of the players that there’s no more freedom of movement, so they have to stay in their own area of the pitch. I hope the manager has a backstop plan. Now, what’s this? Before play can restart, a tall blond girl is strutting across the pitch showing off the latest in skiwear. The crowd are chanting ‘Sign her up’. Any ideas, Ron?”
“It must the Norway model that we’ve been hearing about, Barry.”
“Of course. Thanks, Ron. There’s more problems now for the ref, as one of the right wingers is insisting on changing the ball from the standard European maroon colour to a British dark blue. It’s difficult to see how the ref is ever going to get play restarted. Are we going to see any more football tonight, Ron?”
“Doubtful, Barry. I vote we hit that bar you were talking about.”