The M2s are a work of avant-garde comic fiction, significant for their experimental style and with a reputation as one of the most difficult teams to understand in the English hockey ladder.

Owing to the team’s expansive linguistic experiments, stream-of-consciousness playing style, literary allusions, free dream associations, and abandonment of sporting conventions, they remain largely unintelligible to the general public. Despite the obstacles, readers and commentators have though reached a broad consensus about the team’s central cast of characters and, to a lesser degree, its basic structure.

I wonder whether anybody has seen my hockey shorts?

Today’s game saw another page of this intellectual challenge written into the team’s record. In a way, everything was different, as we finally found a way to dispatch a Peterborough side that has haunted us in recent seasons. In other ways, everything remained the same, with the vice-Skip once more insisting on an elongated period of full-frontal nudity in the changing rooms.

It really was jolly windy and anyway why does NBM have a soap shaped like that?

Settling once more into the 2-3-5 formation that had served us well last time out, the South boys moved the ball around confidently in the early stages. Menzies was nurdling around at the base of the team to good effect, gently distributing to Barney and Rugless with all the suave calm of a man handing out a few Ferrero Rocher that he’s just found in the boot of his Jag.

Bhav was a more urgent presence, sending two incisive passes just out of the reach of a diving right post-man.

After ten minutes or so, Jack Chalk slapped home and we were off and running.

Whipped up to a frenzy by the early lead, Walshy came over all ‘Lot’s wife’ and took on Peterborough’s ubiquitous, hyper-skilled left back. No, Walsh.

I had been for a really hot shower at about 9.30, which started with really rubbing some Cif into the tiles, and once I’d dried myself off it felt positively tropical in Impington so why not just put those shorts on with those sandals because that will be alright and I really am very warm but maybe oh look I have the heaters on in the car. Maybe I didn’t need to put on that second episode of The West Wing last night but I do like pain au chocolat.

So, one-nil at half time. We had been pretty solid but a second goal would be lovely. Menz came close, very close, and we sent several balls across the goal rather than into it. It was looking like we were going to have to score from open play, as the usual short corner production line was badly mis-firing.

We needed a change of tack. We needed to lure the away side’s capable defenders out of the way, clearing a path to goal.

Tom Steed was just the man for the job and with the Peterborough backline momentarily looking the other way, we struck. Admittedly this was from a shortie, new Toby confidently flicking somewhere near the top left. He had an even better effort superbly saved in the game’s dying moments.

And then it was over. A lot of huff and puff which the history books will record as a solid two-nil home win. Next week sees the wheezing bandwagon roll across to St Neots.