“"Ladz, wes seen wot dese fancee prancys boyz kan doo an wee no wee kan beet dem. Iz been luuking at dere planz wile dere coach az been diztrakted an I fink I no wot we do. Iv we hit dem reely ard dey wont get up an we kan win da game."

Coach Snot Grotly marched in front of his team, froth spraying from his lips. "Youse let me down befor an mek sure yous dont do eet again."

Some say there was a certain shine to the ogres as they trotted onto the pitch for this game. Others say it was the noxious fumes rising from the river next to the LOC ground that was getting in everyone's eye and giving the air a thick soup-like quality.

None the less, the first half started promising for the ogres. Forcing the elves to score early they were able to press home their advantage and get the equaliser in turn 7.

"Dis is ow my ladz play," coach Grotly was heard to bellow from the sidelines (a snotling's bellow can still be quite loud). "Mek sum noise fanz, show de boyz yous iz behind em!"

A large swell of noise was swiftly heard from the crowd and in the excitement several children, items of clothing and vegetables were thrown onto the pitch. A riot broke out as the fans squabbled over whose beetroot was whose and who wanted this child. The ref stood idly by, watching it happen with a dreamy look on his face.

Finally when the fans had calmed down, the ref called for the reset. "2 plays left, elves to recieve."

"Yous wot mate," coach Grotly was livid. "Iz youse blind."

But his cries fell on deaf ears, the ref blew his whistle and they were off.

Of course the elves managed the two turn score, and of course the ogres fell apart in the second half. These things barely need mentioning. But for one glorious, brief moment, they ogres looked as though the game was actually going there way.

"Piss off mush," said coach Grotly, in his post-match press conference. "Dese pointyz av no place beings in charge ov de matches. Or evenz on de field atall."

Bonehead failure count: 6/60 = 1/10
Ongoing failure count: 136/913 = 1/6.7
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