Is that you're likely too busy playing with FUMBBL's new toy to see this blog, probably.




The scene opens up in the office of SeraphimRed. SeraphimRed stands upright by his desk scooping large handfuls of ill advising documents and play manuals into a cardboard box. His assistant coach enters.

Ass.: Oh, here you are sir!

SeraphimRed wheels around with a start.

Sera: Who? Me? Oh, I’m always here, the narrator lacks any real imagination when it comes to location. Now Pythrr’s personal narrator on the other hand is far more imaginative. One day he’s in London, the next day he’s in Paris, the next he’s atop Mount Kilimanjaro, with internet access just to PM us with his status updates, and now Canada!

Sera wistfully smiles.

Sera: Sometimes I wonder if it’s us who live in a fantasy world or him...

Ass.: Riiight. Um, what are you doings sir?

Sera: I’m err... cleaning, yes I’m cleaning!

Ass.: You’re cleaning your desk?

SeraphimRed: Yes. It’s in a frightful state.

Sera moves over to the Trophy cabinet and begins removing them one by one, although when I say that it’s not like there’s that many there really.

Ass.: Sir. Why are you putting our trophies in the box?

SeraphimRed: Erm... well, these are old right, and I wanted to make room for all the new ones!

Ass.: But sir, we’ve had a terrible season. All our best players are dead thanks to the New-claw’ya pomb.

SeraphimRed: Quaint.

Ass.: To be honest sir, we’ve barely won a game and are languishing mid table.

Sera continues unperturbed.

Ass.: And if our season wasn’t bad enough already, some douche reporter has started stirring the corpses by claiming that you are leaving the club. I’ll tell ya, they’re turning in their graves down there!

SeraphimRed: Me? Leaving? No, never!

Ass.: That’s what I told them! I said that you’ve been here 14 seasons.

Sera: Seems longer...

Ass.: And to be leaving now when we have a critical game that could determine the winner of the OBBA premiership... well it’s madness.

Sera: Totally. Who are we playing again?

Ass.: Pythrr’s Bristol Reavers.

Sera scowls.

Sera: Pythrr! Mr OBBA President and probable premiership champions in a single season! He’s as crooked as they come you know?

Ass.: Yeah, I’ve seen the graffiti Russo left in the gents.

Sera starts removing his personal photographs from the walls.

Ass.: You see... there’s is one thing that puzzles me though. Well, besides you taking our trophies, that is.

Sera: Oh, what’s that?

Ass.: Well, the OBBA announced the Cup Draw, and well, Real weren’t actually on it.

Sera looks visibly shocked.

Sera: Really!

Ass.: Yes....

Sera: Well, I shall march down there right now with this box and these trophies, these photos... and THIS plant, and give them a piece of my mind!

Sera grabs his spider plant and makes for the door.

Ass.: It’s true isn’t it? ... You’re leaving us aren’t you sir?

Sera sighs, and drops his shoulders.

Ass.: You weren’t even going to say goodbye were you sir? After 14 seasons and over 140 games...

Sera slowly turns around to face his Assistant.

Sera:... I just wanted to spare your feelings.

Ass.: And is it true you’re not even going to manage an Undead team?

Sera: Look, Undead teams in CRP are dead.

Ass.: ?

Sera: ...it’s just no one has told the poor fools yet. Do you know, I can’t remember the last time I had two mummies with Block on the team... I think it was back when you used to have blogs without the words “Top 15” in them.

Ass.: It’s not so bad. We could give them stand firm, sir.

Sera: You see... saying things like that is exactly the reason I’m not taking you with me.

The Assistant sulks.

Ass.: So. It is Dark Elves then.

Sera: Yep. Young, fresh, elves with better access to Block and Strength skills than Undead... go figure.

Ass.: And I suppose they have an original name like Bradford Slitty or Dunstabable United.

Sera: Khainebridge United actually... although I do like that last one, not the first, that’s some twisted brainchild born of a lunatic.

Ass.: Of course you realise that the New-claw’ya pomb will wreak just as much havoc on your precious Elves as they did on your Undead, only you won’t have regeneration to fall back on.

Sera: Please. Regeneration is something you find in pissy little coal mining towns in Yorkshire, it sure as shit isn’t found at Real Sociedead these days. Anyway... at least when my Elves go pop I won’t feel cheated, elves are supposed to go pop! Big fat ST6 Mummies, not so much...

Ass.: Is there anything we can do to change your mind sir?

Sera: Travel back in time and destroy the unholy idiots that took away the good ruleset?

Ass.: I wish I could.

Sera: Convince Christer to develop a FUMBBL LRB?

Ass.: I think travelling back through time would be easier.

Sera: So there we have it. The end of a chapter...

Ass.: An era sir... I’m going to miss you so much!

Sera: Don’t worry about it. I’ll have a new Assistant Coach at Khainesbridge United and the viewing masses, all 15 of them, won’t be able to tell the difference between your sorry Ass. and his sorry Ass.

Ass.: Thanks for trying to cheer me up sir.

Scene fades for perhaps the final time...