"Gorky's FC!" we hear you cry!
No, we reply. Leyton Orient. But Gorky's gets established along the way. Cpt. Sir Thomas Hopper takes up the story..
Hopper: "I'd spent the afternoon inventing cheese at my 'pied a terre' in Mayfair when I saw fit to drift into the 'Norfolk Arms' on my way back to the family home in Russel Square. And God's cock was I pleased I did! For therein was exploding an argument the likes of which I have never heard! I sidled up to the bar, ordered a pint of best and gradually began to understand the ramifications of that which my ears were so greedily sucking in. It transpired that two men were busily discussing an altercation that had altercated only moments previous to the current second in time. Wayne (affectionately known to his friends, I would later learn as 'Wayne the Cunt') had, apparently, professed to having had carnal knowledge of Colin's mother in something that he referred to as the 'fudge tunnel'. I initially believed this to be somewhere South of Greenwich. How wrong I was. He developed his argument further by saying that not only had this occurred more than once, but that it had invariably ended with him hosing his gentleman's relish across the aforementioned matriarch's lady lumps. This I found intriguing in the extreme. I like to think of myself as something of a 'commander of the fleet' when it comes to the English language, yet here I was utterly baffled by a dialogue erupting only yards from my family home. A dialogue that was completely and utterly alien to me. I pricked my ears and deposited myself at the table next to the ruffians. I did not want to miss a word! It was then that Colin took up the mantle in reposte to Wayne's earlier comments. He implied an implication that implied a similar manner of carnal congress with Wayne's mother! Can you believe it! How profligate these proles are in spreading their man jizz around (and inside) their elders! This last comment led to a scuffle that I can only describe as the single most terrifying piece of scufflage I have ever seen. It culminated in Colin inserting the bellows into Wayne's posterior with a vigour and force that made the entire sphincter mussle prolapse in one fell swoop! The scream was loud. Earth shatteringly loud. As Colin pumped away on the bellows demanding a retraction of Wayne's 'mother laropping' comments, the doors to the public house suddenly flew open! There was silence. A long, long silence. Standing there in all their regal glory was the most feared and respected man in all of London : Lieutenant James Poncenby-Poncenby-Ponce of the Royal Hussars C Battalion. An eerie chill caught the air like a transfusion. Wayne and Colin were still. The bellows slowly dribbled it's way from starfish to floor. More silence. Eventually Lieutenant James Poncenby-Poncenby-Ponce of the Royal Hussars C Battalion boomed:
'I have been watching you two men from the window yonder! And may I say that I am mightily, and I do not use that word lightly, mightily impressed by the spunk that you have both shown in the last few minutes. You are exactly the kind of mindless wankers that I want to play at centre back for the football club that I have established only this afternoon. The club is called 'Leyton Orient'. You will report to the training ground by Leytonstone park Thursday next. That is all gentlemen! Now fuck off!'
Colin and Wayne both fled from the public house. Well, Colin fled, Wayne sort of.. staggered. Within seconds the room was all but cleared. All, that is, except for Steve who had quietly witnessed the whole affair. He scratched his head thoughtfully and said:
'Football club, eh? That sounds like a good idea. I shall also establish a football club. And it will be called Goryk's FC! I don't know why, it just will!'
The End
