“After their unprecedented victory in the Offord Invitational, we sent our roving reporter to find out what it is that makes Radiant Arrogance tick.

We caught up with Sir Cyril Ponceworthy in the jacuzzi at his plush Ulthuanian mansion, crenellated towers rising like whipped caramel in the distance. Ponceworthy greeted us warmly, neck-deep in foam and surrounded by swooning, lusciously beautiful elven maidens.

"It's good to see someone has finally appreciated our total mastery of the game and come to see where it all began. Why, when Daddy asked me if I wanted to run a Blood Bowl team, I of course objected at first. After all, we High Elves are such naturally gifted athletes, it would hardly be fair on all the... lesser races we might come up against."

At this point, we felt compelled to mention the resounding defeats which nearly ended Arrogance's campaign before it started. Sir Cyril laughed patronisingly.

"Why, don't you see my dear friend? We simply had to lose a few games, or the officials would soon have realised our superiority and banned us from the league. This way, we have a clear run to the trophy, and my Daddy's business does need a small cash injection."

"You seem to have had a recent run of success, certainly," we admitted. "But how are you planning to stay on top of the game?"

At this, Sir Cyril clambered out of the pool, water dripping down his golden skin and over a physique rippling with more muscle than most elves could dream of.

"Well, I have been working out. All those pinpoint long passes need a strong arm. And I find my admirers do appreciate the changes. Speaking of admirers, I must be off. These Highborn daughters have shown some interest in forming a cheerleading squad..."”