IS THIS A TRY LINE I SEE BEFORE ME?

VALE OF LUNE  8  NORTHWICH  7
NORTH TWO WEST

Of course the waters had to break sometime. Since joining the Vale of Lune it must have come as no surprise to Craig Orrick that he had been given an unsuitable nickname, after all he must have been living with it for years. After his match winning try against Northwich, the clubhouse was buzzing like a coach load of bards on a tour of Stratford on Avon.

Hamlet lit up a King Edward in the "Guinness Joe Enclosure", Toby was belching, Anne was leafing through a Thompson and Morgan catalogue looking for seeds for the cottage garden, Romeo was chewing the carpet, Caesar was asking Brutus what the weather was like, Hail Caesar, came the reply, the Major was heard to say, "Unhand me gentlemen!" before lurching towards the toilets.

Alas ............................

The game developed like sweet bells that jangled out of tune, but there was a divinity that shaped the Vale's ends, and they say that miracles are past. Not on your Nelly, Will. All the worlds a stage for the Alies, full of strange oaths, which rent the air for most of the game, but these lean and slippered pantaloons, were in fine form, spectacles on nose, pouch on side, sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything, my god they are a fierce sight.

Alas poor ....................

It was three nil at half time in favour of the Vale, Neale Foster kicked a penalty goal, but a few minutes into the second half, Steve Campbell, lean and hungry, scythed through the Vale's underbelly for a try between the posts, converted by Scott Hayes. And so the game meandered its way towards injury time, very much a case of more matter and less art. Doubters became traitors to the Vale's cause, but boldness became their friend in the comely shape of Craig.

Alas poor Yo  ..............

Here was a Corinthian, a man of mettle, who produced a hit, a palpable hit at the very end. On his way to the line he peppered two of them because this was to be the unkindest cut of all, a winning try at the very death. Delays have dangerous ends and so it proved because there had been two lengthy stoppages during the second half, not to star crossed lovers, but hulking great props.

Alas poor Yori ...............

So the bright day is done and we are for the dark, some of the Alies went on the prowl on the Barbary Coast, but it was shut, the fortunes were taken to bed, cheeks were cracked under a rough blanket as the events were mulled over, waiting for the light that through the yonder window breaks

Alas poor Yorick.

The deed is done, the wild and whirling words have danced off the keyboard, my imaginations have been most foul, laid on with a trowel perhaps, but there is no need to cudgel my brain further because it is now out of the system. No more references to Craig, to Hamlet and that skull in match reports. Promise.

VALE OF LUNE: N.Bennetts, A.Richards (rep G.Smith 67), A.Garnett, C.Orrick, J.Bryan, N.Foster, J.Hodder, D.Halliwell (Rep D.Schuyler 55) G.Barton, A.Sutcliffe (Rep M.Speight 17), L.Farnworth, D.Perry, R.Mudd, D.Lin, M.Fowler (Capt)