5.45am and I bounce out of bed. IT’S GAME DAY! GAME DAY! As always, I start with a triple espresso, just to perk me up. BAH! ISN’T IT A GREAT DAY TO BE ALIVE.

After thoroughly exhausting my family whilst supping on a couple of Americanos, I shoot up to Long Road, with a quick stop on the way for a cheeky macchiato. Got to keep the caffeine levels up. RAAHHHH ELEPHANTS WOOOOO!

‘Lads! I’m here! I’m here!’ I bound up to the pitch and leap into Owen’s arms, slathering him with licks and nips RAHHHHH WOOOO. The team head to the changing rooms and I’m temporarily out-Blessed-ed by Anns, who appears to have slathered his undercarriage in Ralgex. Mmmm…lovely Ralgex. ‘Can I have some? And and and can I have some?’ I eat the Ralgex and the Ralgex tastes good. GORDON’S ALIVE?!! RAAHHHH

Heading outside for a warm-up, I stretch patiently for five or six seconds before I can contain myself no longer. I’ve got something to say! My hand shoots up! And and and! The others seem to talk over me though. Is this how they think my arm just is? Maybe it is. Is that a bee? I need some more coffee. RAHHHHH

My balloon is momentarily popped when the captain tells me I’m playing left-back today. THAT COOPER IS AN IDIOT. RAHHHHH! I HATE HIM. I RAGE WITH THE POWER OF A THOUSAND SUNS. HOW SELFISH OF HIM, TO COVER THE LAST MINUTE GOALKEEPING INJURY CRISIS BY PLAYING THERE HIMSELF SO THAT THERE IS A GAP IN THE BACKLINE. It seems unlikely I will ever recover from this but then a butterfly flies by, a Red Admiral, and I haven’t seen one of those since last Tuesday and and and that was before Wednesday. RAHHHH

The game begins. I’M PUMPED! The visitors are towards the bottom of the league, but the opening minutes suggest they have selected a strong side as they seek at least a point to avoid relegation. A challenge. I LOVE CHALLENGES! BAH! I’m involved in our opener, slapping a cross into the D for Menzies to add a finish so typically Menzies-esque that I’m copyrighting it.

Anns, that old dog of war, was moving well, and Manny was stampeding through midfield to good effect. RAHHH BELL PEPPERS mmmmmm. Half time came and went with my hand in the air throughout. The lads must think this is how my arm just goes.

The second half is more blood and thunder. Anns wanders off, but Doug the Rug shows again that he’s the man for a defensive crisis. Unfortunately, Bourne Deeping can score from short corners. THE BEASTS! We reorganise the defensive set-up. They score another short corner. THE BEASTS! CURSE THEM ALL! Either before or after this, we got another Menzies©. I see that Red Admiral again and hare off after it. James got angry. I don’t know why.

The game ends and I suddenly tire. As I crumple, shaking, to the floor, looking for all the world like a modern-day Withnail, I wonder if I may have overdone the caffeine. Owen coaxes me back to life with Haribo Sourmix. I like Owen.

Back in the clubhouse, the bar needs manning. I can do that! I can do that! Two Camparis? No problem, sir. ‘Slice of orange?’ But of course, sir. Do you come here often? I mouth to Coops that I’m handy with a shandie.

In anticipation of the evening’s frivolities, my tailor had run me up a rather Maverick (Cruise in Top Gun) suit, and my aviators remain perched on the top of my head until 1am. As I worked the room, late in the evening, Owen was playing my willing Goose. Predictably though, he crashed and burned and I had to look elsewhere. By now I’m quite drunk. I’m in a strange city and I’m not sure how my new friendship will play out. All in all, at least The Pickerel haan8 respect for the drubk and wee wee peoples. RAHhh…ugh.