Disclaimer: They sat there, in that darkened room, Neil leaning nonchalantly on the back of his chair, pistol cocked. “You’re going to write that match report, aren’t you Ollie?” Slumped, bloodied and beaten, Ollie squints out of his less swollen eye, “Y…y…yes, Neil. By Wednesday, I promise.” So here it is. But being that it is difficult to remember events while under duress, I can only do my best.

The day started out with an air of vigour. #TeamHubris could be seen spelled out in the clouds as the warm-up got under way. Shortly into the first half, a slight fumble from an unnamed player (ALRIGHT NEIL, ALRIGHT. NOT THE THUMB SCREWS. IT WAS JOE, IT WAS JOE!) led to the M3s conceding an early goal. But our spirit was unbroken, and we pressed on.

At the half time talk, a bizarre concept was discussed; passing…back and…around? A very strange idea indeed! But George has always been known for his cutting edge concepts. Tingling with excitement, we burst into the second half.

In staggering succession two goals were found: we were level, and then almost immediately we weren’t again. And just as shockingly, two more were scored: we were winning! Less than ten minutes to go… But another sharp change of fortunes and we quickly found ourselves once again a goal behind. With a short corner called, and the whistle for end of time blown, the pressure was on! Could we perform under pressure? Or did we buckle?

I believe, dear reader, you can go and read the league results, because no quantity of Neil’s unscrupulous sadism can make me relive that moment.