OSCC, 117-9, lost to Sandridge, 121-2, by eight wickets 'Twas on the 21st of June To Lilley we did roam Some cunts had hired our ground out So we could not play at home Two of our players dropped out We prayed it wasn't so But one of them was Roger So 'twas not a mighty blow Bex and Gary saved us They answered the late call Though Gary looked uneasy Far from the bathroom stall The pessimists said, "Call it off!" They said we had no chance They said our odds were feeble Just like Johnny's batting stance It was the summer solstice The day that never ends Just like one of Jamie's overs Due to all the wides he sends The mercury hit thirty It was really fucking hot Just like dear old Bradders When he threw a punch at Scott Wardy was our captain He'd never won a game And when you're talking leadership That's not a claim to fame It goes without saying That Wardy lost the toss And soon we were out batting On a wicket full of moss The ball leapt round...
OSCC, 62 all out, lost to Jonno's Old Mates, 63-3, by 7 wickets After a particularly woeful performance German manager Franz Beckenbauer once said he could tie all of his players up in a sack and hit them with a stick and whoever got hit hardest would desrve it. Which pretty much sums up Offley's latest display of synchronised pooch fucking as a game scheduled to last 80 overs was done and dusted with 48.2 overs remaining. There have been plenty of inept Offley performances in the club's history but this one was pretty fucking special as a team that looked strong on proved to be about as resilient as a virgin's virtue in the back of Kyle Walker's car. Offley started with high hopes. Imagine heading off on a night out wearing a new designer shirt, expensive after shave and making a good impression with an attractive woman in a club. Fast forward a few hours (or in this case about 30 overs) and imagine waking up in bed as the little spoon with a toothless fat bird snu...