Are you DRUNK? Do you like DANGER? Are you looking for something PHYSICALLY DANGEROUS to do the day before a crucial season-defining match? Then look no further than Voi.

With Voi you can travel at speeds up to 26 miles per hour, with a blood alcohol level north of 0.399%, whooping and hollering in TOTAL SAFETY as you career over some of East Anglia’s flattest streets, safe in the knowledge that nothing bad could possibly happen. Unless you had, say, and I’m laughing as I write this, a lunatic friend who would voluntarily push you off said hurtling scooter. But haha as I say, this would never happen as no-one has a friend this reckless, so at ease with the attempted-manslaughter of a friend.

Anyway, we travelled to the diocese of Ely, bathed in God’s golden light, without the services of George Anderson who had been incapacitated in a totally unrelated Voi-based accident [lawsuit pending]. You only had to look upon the puce, sweating pre-match figures of Anns and Menzies, to know that the temperatures had settled at a positively sub-Saharan, 19 degrees centigrade. ‘Looks like Ely just got…a little hotter’ announced Adam Catley to no-one in particular as he strode across the carpark in his aviators, absent-mindedly flicking a zippo lighter in one hand.

The facts were simple: Beat Ely and be promoted from Division 3NW, known dramatically in some parts of Spain as ‘El Divisione Del Muerto’. With March and Wisbech breathing their oddly sweet fenland breath down our necks we knew we had but one shot, or to put it another way, one opportunity to seize everything we ever wanted in one moment. I’m paraphrasing here, but would we capture it, or just let it slip? And to answer those questions in order: as it turned out ‘Emphatically No’ and ‘yes we would’.

The game began brightly on a pitch which velocity-wise resembled one of Carpet World’s Deep Pile Saxony Carpets [20% and just 300 metres away from the pitch, opposite the Macdonalds]. Adjusting our games accordingly we set about the runaway league leaders with no little skill, determination and fortitude. Eric had an early shot saved, the defence defended manfully, the midfield toiled, and for a while Ely looked frustrated.

Soon though legs began to tire, personally speaking my face had taken on a strange red hue that the employees at ‘Eazy Paint’ – [the paint emporium not 500 metres from the pitch, next to Carpet World] – would describe as ‘Crimson Earth’, and I was forced to spend the rest of the half wheezing on the sidelines. We ended the half two goals down thanks to two lightning quick counter attacks. Things were getting serious in central defence. ‘I feel the need…’ announced Adam Catley, ‘the need to take these aviators off, I can’t see a thing in them.’

With three goals required to win promotion we summoned up our last reserves of energy and, well supported by the L3’s, hammered on the Ely door – winning short corners with slick Walsh-Camp interplay, some mazy Tom Blair dribbles, some Smith-Chalk upfront industry and some route 1 Yarrow ball. Alas, against the standout team of the division, we fell just short.

And so, with March almost over, we march on to the marshes of March, for the all-important March match. Match March in the March match and it may strike a match under Mitch [the March captain] and not least under our own troupe of redoubtable players, this cadre of honourable men, and firing them out of this league in a blaze of furious glory. Fail however, and their faces will never be welcome in the Queen Edith again and they’ll be spat at in the streets of the surrounding CB2 area. So as I say, absolutely no pressure lads.