“As my imaginary uncle never used to say, "you don't bring Guard to a crab fight". But then he didn't exist, so what would he know?

With the 'Replica scoring early, I expected this to be a typical Monkees match, outclassed and outplayed by some regenerating crustaceans. But there's now been two seasons for the Monkees to get angrier and angrier, and grow more and more claws and tentacles, and having made short work of Frownland, the 'Replica were a Giant Crab short of safety. As the second half began, the crowd rudely took Nuzzles off with a rock, after which he refused to come back out, but a demolition job in the next six turns left the 'Replica with six players and two turns to score.

And then the crowd, now impressed by the Monkees' work, decided to riot. Overtime was in our paws!

That was when it got needlessly cruel. With Orange Claw Hammer hiding in the dugout after an unwise foul, there were less crabs left than braincells in the skull of a Rat Ogre. The threat in the final turns was more our own incompetence, with slave after slave stabbing himself trying to pick up the spiked ball. Finally it was left to Hugs, who yelled something about showing everyone how to do it, blitzing a tiny something off the ball, then scooping it up and sprinting for the end zone. Then it was a matter of playing chicken: the Replica didn't fancy putting their last player in the way of a Rat Ogre, so he was able to blitz his way to the end zone for a final turn score, the second ever win of the team. Roars of glee echo almost as far as Skavenblight. We'll dine on crab tonight, lads!”