West Of The Fields

Rumours of Nathan Tyson's departure from Wycombe continue to mount like the piles of rotting flesh outside the Meat Clinic skylight, and it seems increasingly unlikely that Wycombe will begin the new season with him in the side.

You can't blame the lad for wanting to move on, he's ageing by the minute, and if the speculation about his haunted knee ligaments are true then Wycombe should get rid too.

That said, would he have wanted to move to Oldham? The town is a a hill-slum filled with neanderthals in every single street. At least in Wycombe they only congregate on the Valley Terrace.

Tyson should be aiming for the Championship anyway. He's the best talent to play for the club in the professional era, what with his shimmy deceiver and rocket goal special move. When he signs on the dotted line for a club with a manager with balls, the Wanderers support should tip him a wolf whistle and a bowler hat.

Instead, ah they will gripe like baboons in a flea epidemic. I'd like to smash them to pieces with a super-heated golf club but the so-called "laws" deem it illegal. We're living in a police state my friends.

Radio Free Europe

So, the fixtures are out and the Meat Clinic can finally sort out that scheduled load of cattle from the dream warehouse near Skipton.

There are many theories about the fixture computer. Some say that it is made of gold and has only two keys (Q and W), while others insist it is the size of a barn and every USB port links directly into Graham Kelly's spine. We'll never find out, so it's pointless speculating.

Early conclusions: Carlisle opening day - the BNP-sponsored club will head down in droves and probably smash something in the Hourglass, hopefully their own racist faces. Rochdale away out the way early doors and Unlucky John Gorman's promotion dream will be shattered after just two games. Martin O'Neill will be caretaker manager at some point next season, and that's a guarantee.

SMBU co-founder oily sailor is known to be in the midst of a deep rage at the early scheduling of Oxford away, as he is supposed to be on holiday in the Falkland Islands. It's also a problem that will surely affect other, less important, Wycombe fans.

Torquay away on Boxing Day is amusing, but there'll be no price slashes on generic turkey at the Meat Clinic. Final day highjinks at London Road could be good, though equally it could be dreadful as Honest John's season of woe collapses like a fat man in a stairwell.

Stop Me If You've Heard This One Before

Like the mechanisation of the Soviet Union, Wycombe Wanderers are regularly cursed with five-year plans, schemes to "make everything work in the future". Strangely, no-one ever has had a one-year plan to start running the football club sensibly but that would necessitate prudence, responsibility and a vision of a level above that of the average WASP middle-aged football director.

Currently Wycombe are involved in some retro-2000 cash adventures. The majority of fans are whooping with joy as their bleak summers are filled with transfer tittle-tattle and dreams of a relentless march to glory in May 2006.

But things are never that simple. The only certainty in life is that debt will wrap around your ankles like riverweed and drag you into the deep blue depths. No-one is suggesting that Steve Hayes has sinister motives, but he is not the first person to fall for the glamour of pumping money into a club. The reality rarely matches the dream and there the problems start. Hayes has made his cash by making sure others pay him back, will he really allow Wycombe to get away with not doing the same. It is easy to make promises about what will or will not happen in five years, the reality, when the time comes, is somewhat different.

As a wise person commented this week: so we're dishing out the contracts, financed by a loan, from the owner of a loans company.

Oh dear, oh dear.

This Night Has Opened My Eyes

The frightful news that evil corporate geek-vermin Microsoft have agreed to censor MSN for their evil Chinese friends should be something that causes people round the world to fly into a generic rage.

But not in Buckinghamshire.

No, this idea will have been received with joyous rapture by the drooling aged populations of the local rotary clubs and hate-pits. Wycombe Wanderers have spent the last four years reacting wildly to any criticism from supporters, with contributors to cash-generating website The Gasroom being labelled terrorists and evil-doers by the pliant local press.

In an ideal world Wycombe would join forces with MSN and ban supporters from using words such as 'defeat', 'shambles' 'masonic', 'debt', 'dreadful' and 'kill'. They are running a private members dream and they resent every single supporter who does not pat them on the back like a monkey.

Clubs hate fans, as illustrated by Birmingham manager Steve Bruce this week. The brick-faced idiot is so out of touch with reality it does not occur to him that he has no moral right to make such pronouncements. He gets his wages from a pornographer and Lee Bowyer is a proven racist. If the fans, by rejecting such a man, "disgust" Bruce then perhaps he should not expect sympathy the next time someone attacks him in the street outside his house. In fact, it would "disgust" me if someone did not cave his skull in with a pitchfork.

conclusion: kill the board

Meat Is Murder

News reached the Meat Clinic this week that the club have ditched the old caterers and brought the operation 'in house'. Now while Lindley Catering's idea of nutrition was a bat wing salad, the fact that no representative from the club has spoken with Tucker Chump's Meat Clinic is full-frontal outrage.

The newspapers are full of anti-meat lies and Meat Clinic Executive Director Keith Kennel had this to say earlier:

"There is growing concern amongst the Buckinghamshire Meat Lobby that the anti-meat campaign has found support at the highest level. Beeks Construction has recently insisted on a completely vegan diet for its workforce and Wycombe district council has planted runner beans in the debating chamber. We at the Meat Clinic feel that this is a concerted political campaign to discredit Tucker Chump after the so-called "night of the long steak knives". We urge supporters to continue enjoying their meat as promotion will taste all the better with some sinew stuck between your rotting teeth."

I have prepared a range of grade-7 meat delights for the club to choose when deciding on the new catering arrangements, and I can exclusively reveal that former Wanderers legend Gary Ablett has given his full backing to the proposals. Earlier this week Ablett commented: "I have always backed a meat-based diet, all the best dinosaurs ate meat, you know like the one with the big teeth at the Science Museum".

If there was any doubt, then surely it is gone. The Meat Clinic is the only choice for a club in the rise, make no bones about it.

We Hate It When Our Friends Become Successful

I've decided to stand for the board of the Wycombe Wanderers Supporters Trust. They're mostly harmless, like smallpox, but they need a meat injection. The final straw was seeing Ian Baker's name there. He terrorised supporters during the 2001 Cup Run and now his reward is unlimited power, like a modern-day Nero.

Times are changing.

Here's my candidate profile.

You Just Haven't Earned It Yet Baby

Wycombe's suspiciously affluent summer continues apace with the announcement that former Fulham midfielder Kevin Betsy has joined the club. Yet another player looking for more money has chosen to make the switch to penny-pinching Wanderers, though that reputation must be highly suspect now.

Sometimes in professional cycling a rider produces a performance so out of the ordinary, so unexpected that everyone else is immediately suspicious and the kudos that should have been attributable to the rider is lost. So it is with Wycombe this summer.

For years the board have lectured fans about the need to be prudent. The squad was decimated last summer as Tony Adams was forced to shift high earners elsewhere. Now, with no publicly announced investment into the club, Wycombe are handing out contracts fatter than an ITV viewer on a beach holiday.

Are the club now “chasing the dream” a la Leeds United or were the recent financial problems just a smokescreen to allow the constitution to be scrapped? Either way it is all highly unpalatable. The only Wycombe fans who are completely at ease with te club’s new found spending power are those odious individuals who see it as nothing more than a form of entertainment.

If the club went bust they would support another team or go back to the golf course. These are not the sort of attitudes on which to base a team’s transfer policy. In a week when Rushden and Dynamos were handed over to the fans, Wycombe are lurching to the other extreme, like a bunch of dot-com boom idiots on a raft made of paper.

Dead Sea Navigators

The saddest thing about the moment that Wycombe Wanderers sold out to C*useway Technologies (for all your giant's needs) was that the hapless directors in charge of the club seemed genuinely surprised that most supporters were filled with a brutal howling rage. It had not occurred to them that one of the things that football supporters share is a pride in their club's history and tradition.

Yet the stinking capitalist claws are gouging ever deeper into the soul of the game and the news that Barcelona are going to finally adorn their shirts with a foul sponsor is a horror blow. Barca, (a side with a history of club directors who fought against the rise of fascism in the 1930s, culimating in the hideous murder of club President Josep Suñol), is now run by men who get down on their knees and suck money from the autocratic Chinese Government's crooked genitalia.

This, my friends, is in no way a Great Leap Forwards.

Barcelona fans will now have to watch their side run around the pitch with Beijing 2008 plastered onto their chests like some sort of chilling Orwellian message. China, with a human rights record worse than certain Buckinghamshire building firms, is rarely criticised as they have big guns and make all of our clothes and electrical equipment but that doesn't change the fact that any football club accepting money in this way has sold its soul.

No doubt Barcelona has its share of droning fans who will jibber-jabber about the cash influx in the same way that certain Wycombe supporters did two summers ago. These collaborators are sub-human and thankfully their crimes are recorded and never forgotten. When they are lined up and shot I can guarantee they will be wearing plain white linen that will be sullied only with their own teeming, pulsing blood.

Mooney For Nothing

Sly John has whipped another new signing into the Adams Park DroneDome in what some fans are now calling "The Summer of St. John Gregory II". This time the new schemer is dome-headed bruiser Tommy Mooney, formerly of Watford, Carterton, Oxford, Didcot, Melksham, Devizes, St Albans, Banbury United, Swindon and Radnage Rangers.

Mooney was a constant threat for the Headington no-marks last season, scoring 15 goals and leering like a Dangerous Dog Act at many away games. His reported wages of £7.2m a week were tough for Headington to cope with and so it is that the NEW REGIME at Wycombe have lured him 20 miles south-east.

Combined with playboy engine-room grafter Stefan Oakes, this means that Wycombe are collecting high-profile summer signings like never before. It is as if Happy John has clicked on the fictional average-points-per-game button at LeagueTwo.gov.uk and is determined to sign as many of them as possible. Jon Parkin, Ben Futcher and Freddy Eastwood to follow next week.

The best thing about Mooney signing is that it spells the end of Steve Claridge's not-brief-enough spell at Wycombe. The wager-obsessed has-been can now concentrate on ghost-writing his abysmal newspaper column and bleat on the radio like some sort of gruesome south-coast docker. Go now, and easy on the petrol.

Remember to tune into the SMBU Meat Clinic throughout the summer for exclusive out-of-date transfer news.