A Foot in the D

Hockey like you've never seen it before

Adam Commens talks about the Olympic spirit

Adam Commens
Koalas can’t shoot for shit.

During London 2012, the people of Great Britain experienced an immense feeling of pride, joy, and community spirit that continued to be felt long after the events had finished.  Do you believe in the spirit of the Olympics?

Too right I do!  Things had always been ugly between me and my next door neighbour after he caught me stealing petrol from his car, but during Sydney 2000 we were both as happy as pigs in shit.  My cousin rang me up to say that he had stopped beating his kids, the guy who clears away the dog shit along my road actually started doing his job, and during the opening ceremony I’m pretty sure I caught an eyeful of Kylie’s arse.

Of course, I went straight round and gave my neighbour a bash on the nose once everything had finished.


A day in the life of Michael Korper

I like pretty girls. If you pretty girl, please give kiss and send underwear.

Hai peeps!  My name is Michael Korper and I am great player for Harvestehuder hockey club.  I play for fun and I have most fun when score goals.  Last week coach tell me off for no helping to defend in game we lose 7-3; I tell him that I only play for fun, and defend is boring, and great players should not have to do boring.

I like score from penalty corner, penalty stroke, and anywhere in D.  Sometimes I score from outside of D, but then umpire blow whistle to say goal does not count.  I ask why, and he say it because rules say have to score inside D.  I say rules are wrong, he say not.  I say him to pisses off, he show me yellow card and say go sit on bad chair.  I refuse to sit because I great player who play for fun, and chair is boring.

Next day I get fine for fifteen euros from EHF which make me sad.  I tell coach I think of quit, but he beg me to stay because I such great player.

When I retire, I think of being umpire as umpire get free whistle and blowing whistle looks fun.

East Grinstead squad in turmoil after Adam Seccull’s beard impounded at customs

You can touch it if you like. Honestly, I don’t mind.

Jetsetting Australian penalty corner maestro Adam Seccull has been arrested at Sydney International Airport after attempting to sneak his way through customs.

An airport official told us, “I was on the avro shift, chatting to some blonde strumpet, when this dingo came up to me to say he had nothing to declare.  Well, you can imagine my surprise when his beard suddenly started twitching around like a Sheila with ants in her panties.”

“He tried to make out that he had bad indigestion, but no way was he gonna pull the wool over my eyes – I just told him to be quiet unless he fancied having a ‘roo shoved up his backside.  After putting on some gloves and giving his beard a good squeeze, I got the fright of my life when I felt something squirming around.”

Karl Stagno, head coach at EGHC said, “Some weird things have been going on this season, but it all makes sense now.  We’ve had several sticks, some balls, a goalkeeper, and at least two juniors go missing since Christmas – we just hope they’re not too traumatised after spending all that time tangled up in Adam’s facial hair.”

Relax and meditate with Mani Kochar

Do you have any more prawn sandwiches? I’m famished.

Deep in his underground cave beneath the entrance of Reading HC, the quiet and reticent Mani Kochar wants nothing more than a bit of peace and quiet.

I’ve been a bit down in the dumps this week.  Kate Walsh borrowed my Crocs shoes and hasn’t given them back yet, even though I’ve sent her lots of text messages.  I’ve been scared of her ever since she told me to piss off after I asked her to stop saying rude words to the umpire.

Also, I’m only allowed out on Sundays, but unfortunately the local bus doesn’t run on Sundays.  This means I have to walk down to the Marks and Spencer garage, and I get a headache from all the bibbing cars.

Alistair Brogdon vs The Hunchback of Notre Dame

The Hunchback himself, wearing his favourite red top as he scampers frantically up the Gothic steps of the cathedral in search of his beloved Esmeralda, sanctuary from the guards, and a nice bowl of woodlice.
An artist’s impression of what a particular member of the Brogdon family may or may not look like, celebrating after going on another mazy run between three hapless defenders before scoring the kind of epic goal that only a true hockey wizard is capable of.

Bobby Crutchley’s diary

Fuck are you looking at?
Tea with two sugars please, pet.

England Hockey’s no-nonsense, straight talking coach tells us what he’s been involved with recently.

  • The other day, one of the coaches for the England Badgers told me how proud she was that her daughter came third in a school beauty pageant.  She soon changed her tune when I explained that it means her child was too ugly to win.
  • Relating to the above, I’ve a good mind to boot that girl from the team – it’s no use wasting good coaches on kids with shit genetics.

Danny Kenny’s short arsed shorts

Wasps can sting all the time, but bees can’t. It really makes you think.

England Hockey’s diminutive and definitely-not-sponsored-by-Adidas-baseball-caps EuroHockey 2015 conquering warlord jots down his little brain farts.

  • Carbs are an important part of any athletes diet, which is why I eat jacket potatoes.  Imagine my disappointment when I discovered that jacket potato makes a poor topping for a jacket potato.

Hockey horrors: Ashley Jackson’s secret shape-shifting shame

Go away, I’m sneezing.

Holcombe heartthrob ASHLEY JACKSON has found himself at the centre of a bizarre controversy after unhappy diners complained that he is a disgusting ANT EATER.

Witnesses at a local restaurant were initially confused when he crawled under his table, but were quickly recoiling in HORROR after he emitted the kind of grunting noise that only a beast from the hottest corners of SUB-SAHARAN AFRICA could make.

Not long afterwards a long thin tongue was seen protruding from his MOUTH as he began a frantic search for supplemental nourishment whilst he waited for a plate of potato skins with soured cream dip to be brought to him.

“No way am I an ant eater,” Ashley Jackson told reporters. “All that happened was my shoelace came undone and then I got indigestion when I was down there trying to fix it. It’s why I usually wear velcro trainers.”

‘Hockey is a sport for the working classes’ claims the Countess of Wessex

The bow on my stick is this big.
The bow on my stick is this big.

Sophie Wessex, Royal Patron of England Hockey since 2007, astonished reporters this week when she boldly claimed that hockey is the perfect sport for working class people.

“Although polo is my true passion, it can be awfully expensive to play.  Hockey is kind of the same thing though and I hope it catches on soon.”

She continued “After your average person has paid the rent and toddled off with their pennies to the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker, there’s hardly anything left.  They haven’t a hope in hell of being able to purchase a stable of thoroughbred ponies.”

“Most hockey clubs have water-based pitches now, which is a splendid idea – it means the players can get a free glass of water at half time when the pumps come on.”

Trauma Corner with Simon Mantell

Back in October 2014, you were diagnosed with concussion after colliding with another player during a routine league match against Southgate HC.

Anyone else a fan of Timmy Mallet?
Anyone else a fan of Timmy Mallet?

It’s now well established that even relatively mild head trauma can result in both short-term and long-term memory loss, nausea, episodes of confusion and bewilderment, loss of motor functions, and an inability to function on a day to day basis.  Can you tell us what you remember of the incident?

“Not a lot.”

Data Crunching with Crutchley

The fuck you looking at?
Fuck are you looking at?

As a winner of a Eurohockey 4th place title or two, I like to think I know a bit about this stick and ball malarkey.  I’ve always fancied giving something back to the fans, so here I am to answer your questions.  No autograph hunters though, please – you lot piss me right off.

Dear Bobby

Last week I was penalised for stepping outside the D for interfering with play within five yards of the keeper.  I thought with the new rule changes this was allowed – can you advise what I did wrong?

Excuse me?  Do I look like a fucking umpire?  If some whistle-blowing bint in black socks tells you to shift your arse, just do as your told.  Christ almighty, you people… if I could hand out yellow cards to block people from the Internet for five minutes, you’d be getting a sackful of the bastards.

‘Holcombe dinner ladies are right good’ says Sam Quek

Mum reckons ketchup makes me hyper.
Mum reckons ketchup makes me hyper.

If recent comments made by Scouse supremo Sam Quek are anything to go by, it is the dinner ladies that are making Holcombe HC so attractive to England’s hottest hockey stars.

“When I first came here, I was noshing down bowls of pasta carbonara after every match.  But now, it’s cheesy chips or nowt for me.”

Asked about the rest of the facilities at the Kent-based club, Sam was surprisingly nonchalant.  “Pitch is alright I ‘spose, but what I like most is the new deep fat fryer they got in the pantry.  Mable’s in charge of that, see, and she can work it on all three settings.”

“If the queue is too long, all I need to do is jangle my £3.50 dinner money and she’ll know to crack open a fresh bag of McCain crinkle cut chips.  Best thing is, if I score a goal she’ll give me a sprinkle of the nice posh cheese she gets in from Aldi.”

Holcombe Poaching Watch

What cherished historical artifacts has the Holcombe chairman attempted to deny the hockey world of this week?

  • Sophie Bray’s hamstring

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑