<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss version="2.0"><channel><title><![CDATA[smbu]]></title><description><![CDATA[Articles]]></description><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/</link><copyright><![CDATA[Copyright smbu]]></copyright><generator>sNews CMS</generator><item><title><![CDATA[Message To Stockport County]]></title><description><![CDATA[  Message To Stockport County  
From Keith Bruiser       

Ok lads, this is it, this is the big one. A 46 game build up is like the drip tray on a Norbury whore. It all comes down to two pokes on a Neo Geo, one at our place, one back at yours.    

Now it's gonna be hot on Sunday, there'll be a helluva lot of Micky sweatbags and half-bent Methodists knocking around town. We've got aircon but it don't get turned on for northern lads, they need to sweat out the grumbles.     

What I’m saying is don’t come down like a herd of citrus ballbags and expect the Wycombe boys to chase you from Totteridge to Tangiers. You know where to find us: the Pig & Rabbi; the South Bank Café and Doug’s unlicensed Wetherspoons on the cement piazza.     

It’s our cup final, it’s your cup final, even the referee’s washing his nuts in the sink. Let’s make it a day to remember all over the county, and that’s Bucks not Stockport my northern chums. Love to your mother, she’s a flabby revelation.     

      
]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 09 May 2008 13:28:41 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/message-to-stockport-county/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/message-to-stockport-county/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[SMBU Player of the Season]]></title><description><![CDATA[  Various Artists    
    
In a season such as this, just who stands out as the player above all others? Before you make that decision, why not consult SMBU's finest minds, as they bid to convince you just who is the Wycombe Wanderers Player of the Season 2007-08. 
     

  MARTIN BULLOCK
  
oily sailor  
     


Martin Bullock is Wycombe’s player of the season because he embodies a new era of harmony at the club, a new era of professionalism. Let’s rewind a year and focus on a former bald captain of the Wanderers moving to M6 glamour side Walsall and firing off abusive shots at Paul Lambert, claiming that none of the new signings or potential targets “excited” him.
    
Let’s fast forward back to the present and see that the newly-constructed Wycombe team has achieved a joint-record Football League points total of 78 and has comfortably qualified for the playoffs. Let’s hear it for a team of Martin Bullocks.
    
Of course, Martin won’t remember the season from an individual point of view with any great joy. He struggled to nail down a place in the team once the pitches got rougher and stickier than a prostitute’s cushion. Bullock ended the season by announcing his retirement and there’s absolutely no chance of him popping up as a playoff hero. But at his previous clubs he always relished tearing across the wide Adams Park meadow like a wolfish pup and his last action as a pro was to walk off at that same ground, on the day Wycombe defeated Darlington in March. 
    
His departure will be largely uncharted, there are rumours he is buying a farm abroad like someone on Channel 4, but Bullock represents that yeoman class of footballer who plug away in the lower leagues, occasionally hitting the headlines in the way that small earthquakes in East Anglia do. He was a decent player, who had decent games and had a decent reputation. Let’s do the decent thing and raise our hats to him as he surges out of Buckinghamshire in a decently-sized car. 
    

  SCOTT McGLEISH  
Tory Goon  
    
“Yeah but she’s got a great personality.” You know that you’re looking at a dead horse when you have to resort to that line and some of my colleagues’ recommendations for SMBU’s award of Player of the Season are no different.
    
Yes Sergio may have Argentinian flair, long flowing locks and (by all accounts) be a genuinely nice bloke. Sure the Doc may have a beard any player should be proud of and the fiery temperament to go with it. However, these are not reasons to vote either of them for Player of the Season. Similar things could be said of many other players in our squad. All as utterly irrelevant as Ken Livingstone at City Hall.
    
Football is about goals. “It’s a bit obvious,” I hear you cry, but without goals would Wycombe have achieved 78 points this season and sailed into the play-offs? Scott McGleish’s tally of 26 goals (and counting) this year is quite simply second to none at the club, while he only narrowly missed out on the League Two Golden Boot competition itself. The rest of the team together only managed 30, including our new signings and fellow strikers John Sutton (6) and Leon Knight (5). The highlight of course was the four goal ‘hat trick’ at Field Mill in January and the subsequent refusal of some media organisations to credit the second goal to McGleish.
    
It’s not just about goals of course, though I do rate them rather highly. So let’s look at some other stats. McGleish has played in every single league game this season, with forty-five starts and one substitute appearance. No other player this season can make the same claim. His disciplinary record is also excellent with a mere two yellow cards picked up this season.
    
The stats don’t lie, Ladies and Gentlemen. If Wycombe prove their critics wrong and achieve promotion later this month then it will have been down to the only possible choice for Player of the Season, Scott McGleish.
    


  DAVID McCRACKEN  
Ron Waller  
    
It takes some proper balls to turn up a football club looking almost exactly like Prentice from the 1996 BBC adaptation of Iain Banks’   The Crow Road  , but David McCracken has done that. And then some. A centre half wearing the number seven shirt needs to be tricky, nippy, 5ft tall and spend most of his time jinking down the right wing but its testimony to McCracken that he is none of these things. And then some. 
    
David McCracken is the club’s player of the season because he has done what needed to be done. His critics have been repetitive and poorly dressed. “His distribution is poor” they howl. “He just lumps it long” they weep. Of course he does. He has to. We’ve done culture, we’ve done passing to feet across the back line. We’ve done shimmies, and dummies, and one-twos across our own six yard box. We’ve also done failure and disappointment and heartache. Every time McCracken smashes another monstrous bargain clearance into the faces of hapless Family Stand residents, he is clearing the cobwebs. The dead-wood. The bodies in the attic. The dead brasses from the lorry’s cabin. This isn’t   Newsnight Review  ; this is the hunt for promotion from League 2. 
    
He’s cool as well – North of The Border cool. Gerard Love’s cooler younger brother cool. Some deranged Wycombe fans have nicknamed him the Crack Pipe, and not surprisingly sodium bicarbonate sales have gone through the roof in leafy Bucks. A rock at the back, and rocks at the back of the terrace. At set pieces, fans scream “Hit the Pipe” or “Get on the Crack” and there’s no better example than home to Rotherham. David McCracken scored the most important goal of the season. End of discussion. He is also the most vital cog in Paul Lambert’s Football Machine. 
    
Every half-won header, every enormous wallop into touch, every last ditch clattering, every captain’s point and shout McCracken has dished out has stumbled us towards the play-offs. If his feet could speak, they’d mumble   “Get tae fucckk”.   Those mumbling feet are the most articulate commentary on this entire season, and on this beautiful club, so simply accept it, embrace it, and recognise it and most of all vote David McCracken as Wycombe Wanderers Player of the Season. 
    

  LEON KNIGHT  
William Poths  
    
Leon Knight is unquestionably Wycombe Wanderers’ Player of the Season. 
    
In January Paul Lambert swooped for "pint sized" (well done Dave Peters) Leon Knight, he may well resemble that short kid at school who would start a fight for no reason and then despite held away at arms length would still punch and kick air furiously. In many ways his play resembles that, Wycombe fans will remember this well when he and Delroy Facey tore the Chairboys apart in a 4-2 romp in 2002 for Huddersfield. Knight scored a brace one of which was celebrated running past the braying hordes in the Valley complete with finger on pursed lips, you can still feel the hatred generated to this day.
    
Take the hatred that he inflicted on the Wycombe fans that night in March 2002 and feel it running through every single opposing fan, every single game he plays. In a famous homosexual story line in Grange Hill in the early nineties one of the Grange Hill teachers was being provoked by rival school St. Joe’s students, one of the Grange Hill kids grabbed one of the St. Joe’s pupils and said "he may be a poof, but he’s our poof, so leave him alone, understand?" the same is very much true of Leon Knight, only replace "poof" with "irritating striker you’d like to punch in the face".
    
It’s that feeling coupled with an uncanny goal scoring ability combined with technique that is unique at this level. His goal of the century overhead kick versus Darlington epitomising his talent, seemingly will not win Wycombe’s goal of the season contest being beaten instead by some volley or other at a plastic football stadium witnessed live by zero true football fans.
    
Leon Knight alone stood up to the Franchise seeking a transfer away from the north Bucks black hole, insisting on a move to his most local football league club. How often do you see that in football today? He wants to be refreshed before games, make training every day without the long drives. It’s all about performance for Knight and it has told in his play, he has managed to get on the score sheet in 5 of his 12 starts producing a very respectable 0.4 strike rate.
    
On his home debut his tenacity and desire to win (usually mistaken by the drones as "passion") was on full display as he hurried and hassled Rochdale defenders being introduced with half an hour to go trying to break the deadlock, eventually finding his way it the referee’s notebook. 
    
A vote for Knight is local, it’s a desire to win, it’s tenacity, it’s you’d rather have him with you than against you, it’s opposition hatred, it’s a goal scoring record second only to an ex-scummer. Knight has to be player of the season and if he scores the winner at Cuckoo Farm next season he’d best be in the Queen’s birthday honours list too.
    

  TOM WILLIAMS  
Vladimir Nabokov  
    
First, let’s be clear. I’d like the player of the season to be Lewis Christon. But we all know he can’t be. It’s crystal clear to anyone watching Wycombe Wanderers this season that THE player of our season is Tom Williams. 
    
Williams was signed at the back-end of July much to Paul “Lambert” Lambert’s pleasure. He was “absolutely delighted at signing him”. “We’ve been trying to get him all summer, and there’s been a lot of to-ing and fro-ing. He’s a terrific player who’s played lots of games at a higher level.” Williams was let go to Peterborough on New Year’s Eve, amidst a volley of abuse. 
    
Admittedly there was a bit of a false start. He was presumably a bit lacking in fitness, having missed most of pre-season, neither he nor Craig Woodman, were playing, with Lambert Lambert preferring to play two right-backs instead. 
    
But when he did get his chance, many fans were quietly impressed. He didn’t shirk a tackle and, when it came to defending, he seemed to want to get stuck in. Moreover, he apparently saw it as his absolute duty to skin the opposition full-back at least nine times a match and to have some kind of compulsion about going round the outside to get to the bye line. In this Wycombe team, where all wingers seemed to live in fear of the getting too far forward and incline to the inside like suburban agoraphobics, it was a bit of a revelation. And to cap it all, when he got the chance to cross, he did. He whipped the ball in with pace and direction - moving or dead ball, it appeared to make no difference, in it came, with meaning. There were a couple of performances in particular with Sergio in front of him in left midfield which showed promise of a genuine partnership. 
    
But then came the Swindon FA cup calamity – a crass error on the corner of the six-yard box that let in the ever-irritating Christian Roberts to score the first goal. Unquestionably the moment which determined our Cup fate for the season. But hey, these things happen, don’t they? Er … no. Not in Lambert Lambert’s team they don’t. Who knows what was said in the dressing room? In public Lambert Lambert turned on his recent purchase in unusual fashion. Unable even to name him, he spat, “the mistake for the goal was just a terrible mistake.”
    
Williams didn’t take to scapegoating so well. After being omitted from the side, a late November deal to return to Posh fell through. He was back and Lambert Lambert was making positive noises. Then there was the story of Williams relishing the 6-0 thrashing at Stockport and that was that. 
    
He was off to Peterborough at the year’s end. To add insult to injury, he barely played for Posh. Suggesting that maybe Darren Ferguson was more intent, Kenny Dalglish style, on depriving Wanderers fans any chance of ever seeing a player visit the bye line again than he was on improving his own team. 
    
So am I asking you to forgive him his inability to simply kick the ball out for a corner v. Swindon? To forgive his moodiness? Or to forgive him his tasteless wife? No – not a bit. Just give in to the force of the argument. 
    
Tom Williams just is the player of this season because he epitomises what Wycombe Wanderers have become in 07/08: we spend money we can’t afford on sizeable wages to get a player of quality from a higher division (while we keep another for spare); then give up on him immediately he makes a mistake or has a tantrum; and immediately look to the next quality player – in this case (ahem) Leon Knight. 
    
No hint of patience. No desire to add value by sticking with players as they improve. No sense even of getting value for our investment.
    
Just buy it and promptly throw it away, disregarding the debt. Vote Williams: player of the season for the credit crunch club. 
    

  SERGIO TORRES  
Stevedore from Tyneside  
    
If Scott McGleish had scored more goals this season than Mark West and Tony Horseman did in their combined Wycombe careers, Sergio Torres would still have deserved the player of the season award. 26, 49, 234, 587 -hut, hut - it doesn't matter. 
    
Yeah, yeah, he has good hair. Yeah, yeah, he was friendlier to me in Verl than any of the friends I was actually with. Yeah, yeah, whenever he speaks Spanish within ear shot it makes my knees tremble. Yeah, yeah, his shampoo bottle displays in Boots made La Sagrada Familia look like Layer Road. But this is all immaterial. Sergio Torres has style and originality. I don't want to use the term 'flair', but I will. Flair - he's got flair. Panache even. He's chic. 
    
"He gives the ball away too much", the critics rage. Let him. If he gives the ball away, it just leaves me in a heightened state of anticipation, waiting excitedly for him to get it back. "He's a luxury player", the braying mob cries. Well, if when you buy soap it feels like a treat then you might think like that, yeah. "But where's the passion?", the reprobates squeal. It seeps from his every pore - he loves the club, the opportunity it’s given him and he's signed a new contract.
    
Play revolves around him, and so should the world. He'll get the club promoted this month.
    

  MIKE WILLIAMSON  
Eric Plant  
    
It’s sad when footballers suffer serious injuries. Especially at our level. Your average “League 2” [sic] footballer probably hasn’t got enough to retire on if his career’s cut short prematurely, no book deal wrapped up, no guarantee of future employment watching a monitor alongside Jeff Stelling and Paul Walsh.
  
Mike Williamson went from February 2007 to February 2008 without playing a single game of first team football. In the meantime we’d signed a world record breaking 17 centre halves. It couldn’t have been easy. A lesser man may have crumbled, allowed doubts to creep in. Not Michael.
    
Fortunately, like most of us, I’ve never suffered such an injury but from what I can gather, the recovery from a cruciate ligament injury is a long, lonely and painful journey. It is one that Mike Williamson has made with success. Coming back to play any part at all is impressive enough. That he has come back and been as good, actually scrap that, better than ever, and so quickly is nothing short of sensational. He is an inspirational figure, and a worthy captain. It’s not as though the man he has replaced, Dave McCracken is not a good player. Quite the opposite. But it’s a measure of Mike Williamson’s form since returning that I have not heard one dissenting voice, one solitary fan question his place in the side.
    
Sure, Scott McGleish has been brilliant this year, he’s scored a lot of goals, Frank Fielding’s been superb between the sticks, and Sergio has lit up Adams Park with his Argentinian wizardry. But this work was all done in the public eye, in front of an adoring crowd. They were rightly able to claim their plaudits there and then. Whilst they were scoring goals, claiming crosses or beating defenders where was Mike Williamson? On his own, in a gym, sweating blood so that one day he might be able to join them. He didn’t have thousands cheering him on. He didn’t have a bottle of champagne waiting for him in the changing room. There was nobody there chanting his name.
    
This is our chance to recognise that there is more to a season than simply what happens for 90 minutes on a pitch once or twice a week. In coming back from such a nasty injury to captain the side means that Mike Williamson is mentioned in the same breath as Keith Ryan. From this particular scribe, praise comes no higher.
    
Congratulations Mike – you’re an absolute credit to yourself and to our football club. Let’s hope this story ends with you lifting the play off trophy at Wembley in a few weeks time. You deserve it.
    


]]></description><pubDate>Tue, 06 May 2008 18:29:27 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/smbu-player-of-the-season/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/smbu-player-of-the-season/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[If Hollywood Don&#039;t Need You (Honey I Still Do)]]></title><description><![CDATA[Other than home advantage and the right to wear gold socks at Wembley, there seems little riding on Wycombe’s last two league games of the season. The sun is due to be out tomorrow so most people are excited about the Brill Hill end of April Festival, where the annual dog slaughter is promising to be the biggest yet. [Incidentally, if anyone’s lost a guide dog, they’ve got 18 hours to get in touch].     

But the Meat Clinic disagrees with this two game holiday theory for WWFC, there’s something massive up for grabs. Two wins against Notts County and Bradford will see Wycombe pass 80 points for the first time as a league club.     

80 points is like a Blue Peter badge or a shotgun, it’s a medal of honour. No matter what happens in the post-season jamboree, to get over 80 points means the players can enjoy the summer in the knowledge that they put a stint in. After all the years of scratching around in the 50s and 60s, occasionally reaching a 72, finishing on 81 points would be testament to the team that Lambert has constructed.     

Of course, should Wycombe fail to get promoted, the Drone Army will demand his head on a china plate but they can get fucked. If they need a reason, tell them “81 points, what else do you want, get out of my sight. You stink.”     
]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 25 Apr 2008 10:08:03 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/tucker-chump/if-hollywood-dont-need-you-honey-i-still-do/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/tucker-chump/if-hollywood-dont-need-you-honey-i-still-do/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Keith Bruiser&#039;s Guide to Notts]]></title><description><![CDATA[  Keith Bruiser’s Guide to Notts       

Listen closely to your uncle Keith, Saturday’s trip Notts is going to be a right snarl up, and unless you’re with the right mob or you’ve got GPS in your knickers, you could find yourself on the wrong end of a four finger disco. Read these rules before you go and chuck a penny in the well to make sure.     

1) The north is like a foreign country but without the sunshine. Get yourself dosed up on antibiotics or you could be returning home with Belgian Rickets.     

2) If you see any dwarves washing themselves in the Trent don’t call the NSPCC, it’s just the Notts Olympic team in training. Chuck them some free sweatbands if you’ve got any in the motor.     

3) If any of your party is agoraphobic then lock them in the boot as there’s gonna be helluva lot of empty seats at Meadow Lane.     

4) Bring your dinner.     

5) Forget your Notts A-Z, there’s so much coal mining in the city centre that the roads and alleys change every week due to subsidence. Just follow anyone wearing socks to the ground.     

6) Don’t look for trouble, you’re a guest in a troubled manor. We’ve got mobiles, they’ve got pagers; we’ve got motors, they’ve got discount Friday at Halfords; we’ve got British Airways they’ve got blocked airways.     

7) To you and me a troublemaker is a “ballbag” or a “Penge vicar” but they speak different up Notts way. If you hear anyone call you a “Kipling” or a “Barndance Freddie” or a “Spanish cashpoint” then you need to be on your toes.     
        
]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 25 Apr 2008 09:54:16 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/keith-bruisers-guide-to-notts/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/keith-bruisers-guide-to-notts/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[I’m fixing a hole where the rain gets in]]></title><description><![CDATA[  Stevedore from Tyneside  
    
  Grimsby Town 0 Wycombe Wanderers 1  
    
 
Apparently it's grim up north. Perhaps those who say so have never been further north than Peterborough for anything other than a football match, or have never had the pleasure to waltz around the narrow back streets of York or swanned around Harrogate with the sun high in the sky; saying that, Grimsby wasn't the finest place to venture for a brief visit on a Tuesday night.  Perhaps the hauntingly-dark skies and the leak in my Cuban heels impaired my judgement, but it was hard not to feel slightly disheartened as I skipped over puddles past the hoards of boarded-up shops and pubs on the way to the ground. Not even the Oasis Club, which promises Fosters, John Smiths and...Fosters, could lift the feel of the Cleethorpes Road. 
    
  Sewing the seeds of love   
    
Still, this was a BIG GAME and as I took up my position in the sparsely-populated away end and slung my sodden socks over the back of the seat in front as if to fend off a bad dose of trench foot, I looked up to see Gary Holt on a one-man mission to hug all of his on-pitch comrades before the kick off; I felt his love and sensed something good could come of the evening. 
    
  Slippery when wet   
    
The pitch resembled the Great Lawn of Central Park - a tell tale sign of a lack of pests or parasites gnawing away at the turf every other week – and, other than the Somme-esque trench which separated the masses from the field of play, was in fine nick indeed. Coupled with a good hosing of Humber cloudburst, you could actually hear each blade of grass crying out to be caressed by hexagon-shaped stitched leather. Grimsby started lively enough, forcing Yvette Fielding into a decent save early doors, but then the Wycombe midfield took over. Tommy Doherty was everywhere and impressed the two onlooking SMBU executives enough for them to consider renewing the lucrative sponsorship deal for next season. Nothing was getting passed Mr Loverman and Stefan Dennis was pinging the ball around like Pingu on ice. The top-heavy Facey was impressing too and was winning virtually every ball coming his way. When Russell Martin sent in a free kick to the back post, Facey’s textbook downward header was a bit too textbook, as the ball bounced up at a nice height for the keeper who was able to push it away. Torres was making space for himself wherever he went and my socks were still dripping when he linked up with Facey and made enough room to smack home a left-foot drive from 10 yards, maybe? Once the ball passed the halfway line, it was anyone's guess whether the ball was about to be walked into the net or was still within the centre circle, so low was the view from the away end. 
    
  Sock it to me   
    
Grimsby's main threat seemed to be coming down the right but even on the odd occasion that they managed to get round the back, a gaggle of blue shirts were on hand to hunt them down and quash the danger. The defence looked solid and, other than the odd slice of the wet ball off the shin under pressure, looked to have the Grimsby forwards sussed. There seemed to be an eager, pack mentality amongst the Wycombe players and as half time came and I pulled on my socks, I was more than content with what I'd seen. Equally content was the complete lack of queue for a beer at half time. “I’ve only pulled four pints all evening”, muttered the semi-inebriated and sickeningly-bored bloke at the kiosk as he pulled out his pint from under the counter and took another swig. Not that I’m condoning binge drinking or such like but: 133 people yet only four pints? Perhaps there are a few more Wycombe fans on the wagon than I realised.
    
  Sultans of Ping FC  
    
Grimsby were in the game more after the break but Wycombe should have had it sewn up with around 20 minutes to go. McGleish, whose work rate was epic, could only stick the ball at the keeper's midriff when put through by Facey. Oakes then went for one more ping and hit the post from 40 yards having been advised to shoot by the tracksuit-trouser mob to my left after their keeper fluffed his clearance. A couple of other decent chances materialised but missed the target, but by this time Grimsby had begun to look as interested as a seven-year-old in BHS on his birthday. Some late substitutions helped to eat away the remaining few minutes but it seemed somewhat rum as to why John Sutton didn’t deserve a round of applause when coming on. 
    
  I drove all night   
    
Everyone knew what this result meant; the players were so pumped at the final whistle that I’m surprised not to have seen some badge kissing. But Wycombe never looked like losing this one. With the play-offs looming, I can only take encouragement from what was a very positive and promising performance. “It’s ours to throw away”, they cry. 
    
True, but the only thing getting thrown away around here are my boots. 
    

 


]]></description><pubDate>Thu, 17 Apr 2008 11:01:54 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/im-fixing-a-hole-where-the-rain-gets-in/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/im-fixing-a-hole-where-the-rain-gets-in/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Focus On... Peterborough]]></title><description><![CDATA[            
SMBU soccer historian Paul Hunchback looks back at connections between Peterborough and Wanderers ahead of tomorrow’s game.     

  Slip Sliding Away    
Saturday night wouldn’t be Saturday night without weeping heavily into your stained cushion as a man in a floral dress forces you to watch ITV’s soul-destroying Dancing On Ice. Well curiously enough series founder Mink Coates came up with the tawdry cash spewing idea while watching Wycombe play Peterborough in 1997. The sight of United players gliding gracefully across the pitch before collapsing in a sorry heap in an attempt (NB: successful) to get the game called off is said to have made him physically aroused and the rest is history, though it won’t be recorded in any history books. Rumours abound that for the next series puffing crook Barry Fry will be the main judge. 
    

  Memories    
Do you remember the FA Cup tie with Peterborough in 1990? Do you remember John Motson standing in the snow like a suburban Scott of the Antarctic? Do you remember some bright spark taking a photo of the BBC commentator in the pack ice? Do you remember the naïve eager snapper being attacked from behind by a deranged but unknown assailant [NB: police be aware he was wearing aftershave]? Do you remember the arrogant maniac developing the film, selling the photo and living off the proceeds? Do you remember drinking heavily and walking around the Octagon without any trousers on, sobbing and urinating by the Christmas tree? Do you remember fixing some engines? I bet you remember some of these things.     

  Across The Vistula     
Peterborough has seen large-scale Polish immigration in recent months and while most of them are unknown to me, one old friend of the Wanderers, Jixz656, has spent the past year living and working in the town. He emailed this to me the other day:       “Hey Hinchback!!! Great to heer you after this time I have still gott poster of Fred Dibbbner in my toilets!!! Life is good for me since Jerzy Dudek has left England the traitor Jerzy Dudek!! I never allow back in Bisster Village after seeing DUDEK THE SCUMM buying ralf loren underpants!!! As my uncle telled me Jixz Dudek is enemy of people look at his eyes can you see his wolf eyes kill him for Poland!! But he run off!!! Good luck for wandrers against Poshborough on Saturday!! Poshbrough local man abused me in road the other day!!! Last time I was in his bedroom with his wife Wendy HEY you FUK YOU Mr Wnedy whos got your car keys!!!!! BYE       
]]></description><pubDate>Thu, 03 Apr 2008 23:28:07 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-peterborough/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-peterborough/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[SMBU’s Own… Tommy Doherty]]></title><description><![CDATA[  Dear Tom 
    
A belated happy birthday to you, Mate. You don’t look a day older than the youngest of the Kings of Leon. 
    
It’s been a pretty dull few days for you, without a match – sad when you are in such prime form, too. We know you’ve covered off our previous top tips, so here’s a few more to fill the empty days until the massive Posh wing-ding. 
    
  Film:   The Orphanage, a must-see for connoisseurs of Spanish horror.
    
  Long Player:   Funky Nassau: the Compass Point Story 1980-1986. It's a bit early in the year for this but as the clocks have just changed and the summer months begin to breeze in... stick this low slung, wilted-by-the-heat funk on your iPod and imagine the beaches of the Bahamas while you're on that tiring coach trip to Grimsby. 
    
  TV:   We’re torn on this one. The sad, multi-channel sci-fi geeks in the SMBU camp favour something called “The Sarah Connor Chronicles”. Those of us with just the three channels and black and white are plumping for the alarmingly good dramatization of Jake Arnott’s “He Killed Coppers”. Surely nothing this good ever came out of ITV?
    
  Book of the Week:   Bringing Down the House by Ben Mezrich. SMBU’s gambling problems see us recommend this book about a group of MIT students who won millions in Vegas - card counting.     

  Beard of the Week:   Here's Gerry Adams auditioning for Willy Wonka    

      ]]></description><pubDate>Tue, 01 Apr 2008 12:03:53 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/smbus-own-tommy-doherty/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/smbus-own-tommy-doherty/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Caught up in the action, I&#039;ve been looking out for you]]></title><description><![CDATA[  JKDH  
    
  Hereford United 1 Wycombe Wanderers 0    

  


Play-offs: do you relish the thought of another day out at Wembley, or do the memories of semi-final failure put you off a tad? I know where I am. That’s why Hereford is last chance saloon time, a top of the table shoot-out that Wanderers simply have to win.  The heat is on.  
    

  Is it just you or is it hot in here?  
    

Where Wycombe were limp at Lincoln they were hard-working (and so nearly heroic) at Hereford. Different approach: same outcome. One away goal from three fixtures tells its own story but in truth this was a galling and undeserved defeat;  sickening in so many ways and hot-on-the-heels of missing a 33-1 winner in light and dark blue at Cheltenham the day before.  A sporting weekend riddled with errors.  
    

A bit of Clint Easton banter, a pantomime villain in Simon Johnson, a promising debut from Herd on Wycombe’s right side, enough poor officiating to keep most supporters foaming at the mouth, a ramshackle ground of mix and match stands and the narrowest turnstiles I’ve ever seen (how a good percentage of the travelling support gained access to the ground I still have no idea).  Did I mention this was also a jolly good game of promotion- chasing Division Four football between two sides trying to play good football in suitably damp March conditions? No? Well it was.
    

  There must be something wrong with my eyes, I can’t take them off you  
    

Whilst Wycombe’s build up was often patient, Lennon and Oakes regularly slowing the pace but maintaining possession, Hereford played in incisive bursts and both styles threatened during a thoroughly entertaining first half.   A fair portion of the action took place behind one of the many concrete pillars that lined the shallow terrace.  I got a pretty good work out moving up and down the steps, angling for a better view of another McCracken header or Holt enforcing his iron will upon the midfield.  No sign of Tom Doherty of course, smbu’s man sitting this one out after a couple of mellow yellows.  Stockley’s back to the bench with Herd’s arrival allowing Russell Martin to revert to right back.
    

With a little luck Wanderers could have been ahead early on through McGleish or Herd or even a rare foray into the opposition box from Oakes; a combination of unfavourable bounce and excellent defending preventing the vocal and 400-strong away following from cranking the volume up another notch.  Herd provided a refreshing willingness to run with the ball from wide right and – check this out – crack a shot off now and then.     
    

At the other end Hereford sought to get behind the Wanderers defence, and there were saves and scrambles aplenty including Russell Martin (I think - it was just going behind another pillar at the time) heading off his own goal line. Diagouraga impressed for the home side and while Wycombe controlled midfield possession for long periods Hereford came closer to scoring as the game ebbed and flowed towards half time, drawing to a close with another chance at either end – Wycombe scrambling away for Herd to run box-to-box before flashing a shot just wide.  Thrilling stuff.  Half-time, 0-0 and a game of “is this queue for the toilets or the food?” - bizarre ground.
    

  You remind me of a parking ticket, you have ‘fine’ written all over you  
    

Frankie Fielding’s excellent one-on-one stop (yes, another one) from Hooper after Mike Williamson’s slip kept the hopes high; not sure what happened to Crackerjack - he may have got injured behind a pillar - but certainly no sign of him for the second half.
    

At this stage I should probably waffle on about the rest of the second half.  I’m not going to though. We were unlucky in the extreme, the ref was fussy, one of the players of the season pops up with an immaculately placed header beyond Double F – this after a ludicrous free kick which even brought a “what was that for?” from the home steward to my left.  So, we’re all down and hacked off as we trudge out in the rain having watched a lot of huffing and puffing, the odd scramble, a half chance or two and a couple of long range efforts that didn’t quite turn into an equaliser. Possibly hit the bar or post – it was behind a pillar.  So hacked off in fact that this correspondent’s parking ticket (you want me to pay and display in a gravel pit?) failed to invoke more than a mere grunt of annoyance.  I’ve only written this so I can claim the fine back via SMBU Towers – “Miscellaneous Expenses”.  
    

The support the team received at the end was testament to how hard they had fought but now, footballing miracles aside, the play-off lottery beckons and balancing the defensive solidity of having three midfield players on top of the back four, versus looking a more consistent threat going forwards is the conundrum to be unravelled.  Herd and Sergio in the same team would be interesting (though unlikely) and it has been pointed out to me that Leon Knight has a great first touch so perhaps we should dispense with aiming the ball at his head?  There are plenty of goals in this team - might be time to unleash them…
    
    



]]></description><pubDate>Tue, 18 Mar 2008 17:39:41 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/caught-up-in-the-action-ive-been-looking-out-for-you/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/caught-up-in-the-action-ive-been-looking-out-for-you/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Stand By Your Men]]></title><description><![CDATA[  Harry Secombe      

  Wycombe 2 Wrexham 1      

“Sometimes it's hard to be a woman”    

Wycombe make it hard for themselves tonight. Not by the lack of effort or incompetence that some of the fans accuse them of, but by being so completely on top for the first half.    

They pass and move crisply, like Bill Nicholson’s love-children, for 45 minutes – very easy on the eye. They don’t quite rip Wrexham apart, but they don’t need to, because Wrexham, under pressure from the wind which is blowing the cars back down Hillbottom Road from the Valley End, gift them the opportunities to score. As the Valley starts to chunter about all the possession leading nowhere, so does Gavin Ward fluff a goal kick: straight to Knight who advances 10 yards and belts it back at the hapless ‘keeper with considerable interest. Like a Roy of the Rovers patented crowd, the Wycombe unfaithful bellow “thwaaaaaaack!”, as the ball hits the back of the net.    

More minutes of complete Wanderers control follow, with Wrexham barely getting a kick, before a Robins centre back, trying to deal with another underpowered kick from his keeper, heads lucklessly into McGleish’s path. “He practiced this v. Darlo” choruses the cartoon terrace, as Super Scott jinks round the keeper and finishes assuredly.
    
“You'll have sad times and he'll have good times doin' things that you don't understand”
    
The ref is a bit of a throwback: the first foul of any significance sees the first yellow card. Hmmmmmmm … Storing up trouble? But never mind. It’s a Wrexham name that goes into the book. And then it’s McGleish’s turn, for a tetchy exchange with the Wrexham defender Hope, and Doherty’s, for a trip. In between times, we hit the bar to reaffirm our complete command of the game.
    
Frank is a spectator as all this unfolds, such is his team’s domination. And there’s the problem. Half-time discussion is a little about the rather wonderful display of passing in midfield from Holt, Oakes and Doherty supported by Martin and Woodman, but much more about how terrible Wrexham have been and how they can’t possibly get back into the game - can they? – and no wonder they’re bottom and how many can we score?
    
But hang on … isn’t that Dorothy’s house blowing by? And haven’t all the red kites and partridges been blown to Luton?
    
Brian Little’s obviously had a go, though, as there’s considerably more conviction about his side at the start of the second half. He’s brought on subs for one thing, including Sam Aiston. This causes some of the Wanderers’ fans in possession of a vague memory to wonder how a career could go so wrong as to see a talented lad playing non-league and, even when he can get back into the professional game, to be playing for the bottom team in the entire league. And Aiston proceeds to show the 80% without a vague memory what the 20% remember, by running at the Wanderers defence with the wind at his back and putting it under pressure for the first time in the game. Suddenly it’s not looking so easy.
    
A brief moment of Wycombe brilliance harks back to the first half as Doherty and Woodman combine delightfully to get the ball across the six-yard box for McGleish, who can’t quite get a head on it. But wind-assisted Wrexham propel the ball constantly at the Wycombe defence and the crowd lets out a massive Billy-the Fish style “Oh no, he can’t possibly …” as Proctor lashes the ball past a flailing Frank for 2-1. It’s going to be long last half-hour.
    
“And if you love him be proud of him ‘cause after all he's just a man”
    
And so it proves. Wrexham’s fans doggedly sing “Wrexham, Wrexham”, outdoing Wycombe’s for imagination, as their team surges forward.
    
All that’s lacking is a clear sight of goal. Too many corners, too much possession for the Wanderers fans to do much but keep looking at the clock, but no real goal-scoring opportunities. Yet.
    
“But if you love him you'll forgive him”
    
And then smbu’s own Tom Doherty, who’s had a good, good game makes his second bookable trip of the night, helping out the rusty Stockley, and duly gets a second booking.
    
Two perfectly bookable offences in themselves, but you can’t help feeling that this ref – Mr Penton - is out of keeping with those others we’ve had this season who have tried not to show their cards too early, some seemingly intent on going 90 minutes without showing any cards at all, for the benefit of the game.
    
“Keep giving all the love you can”
    
“Lamby” Lambert sensibly brings on “Lenny” Lennon to harass “Wrexy” Wrexham in midfield – “mutter … mutter”, says a dim part of the crowd. The sending off increases the pressure on the Wanderers’ defence and the fans start to make a bit of noise. Even the Tower of Silence breaks into a rousing chorus of “Come on Wycombe”. And the Chairboys see it through.
    
So – a wind-assisted curate’s egg of a performance. But not at all bad against a team in hard-to-beat form. And there’s a bit of a warm glow to the crowd shambling out both for the lovely football of the first half and the backs-to-the-wall achievement of the second – “something warm to come to when the nights are cold and lonely”.    ]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 14 Mar 2008 12:20:15 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/stand-by-your-men/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/stand-by-your-men/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Focus On... Hereford]]></title><description><![CDATA[            
SMBU soccer historian Paul Hunchback looks back at connections between Hereford and Wanderers ahead of tomorrow's game.     

  Marketing Ache    
Officials at Hereford are urging Wanderers supporters to arrive at Edgar Street early on Saturday as they have designated the day “High Wycombe Day for people from High Wycombe and Marlow”. Attractions include an opportunity to race flying postman John Williams who played for both clubs in his long career. “He’s 40 in May”, said a spokesman, “he’s probably slowed to shit.” Brian McGorry will also be present at the stadium and will be handing out hair care tips, mainly concerning ratty highlights. Former Watford legend Clint Easton was invited to speak but has refused to get involved due to a reason. Let’s hope he improves over the next 12 months or so.
    

  Tom Tom    
Wycombe fans are expected to flock to Hereford cathedral on Saturday to gawp at the Mappa Mundi, a confusing but popular medieval map of the world. Local historians such as my injured son Goran Hunchback are keen to study the authors’ details of south Buckinghamshire which have caused such controversy in recent months. The inclusion of Amersham bypass, built in 1987, has led to some people questioning the authenticity of the map but the Pope told them to leave it. The Catholic Church has declared Saturday as “Mappa Mundi Day” and has asked both sides to wear chainmail and arrive at the ground on aggressive horses.
    

  Something Different     
The Football League has declared Saturday as “Football Afternoon Day”. Fans are being encouraged to do something a bit different and come to the ground and watch a couple of football teams run around for a couple of hours. Attractions include colourful nylon replica shirts, popular American food such as burgers and hot dogs, PA systems turned up a bit too loud, tuneless chanting, sighing and ample urinals. Anyone wanting to come to the Hereford v Wycombe game must apply in writing and prepare to watch the game from inside a cage as police have insisted that tourist fans may be killed by regulars.
    
]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 14 Mar 2008 11:32:35 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-hereford/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-hereford/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Superabundance]]></title><description><![CDATA[Here in the Meat Clinic spring is coming and we’re trawling around the central Bucks fields at night with infra-red pistols, picking out the lambs we’re going to slaughter with venom. Did they ask to be killed? Yes they did, their arrogant faces mew with desire for a 12-bore in the muzzle. Spring also means the football season heats up like a can of condensed milk chucked on an open fire with cans of Lynx.     

A Wanderers promotion charge from the bottom division with fans in open revolt about whether a veteran midfielder can do the business. No, not 2008 but 1994, and not the mistrusted Paul SpringLamb in charge but the idolised Martin O’Neill. The veteran schemer in question is Nicky Reid and a midfield dripping with players such as Brown, Cusack, Thompson, Ryan and Stapleton comes a man no-one thinks we need.     

But he played at Wembley and Reid is woven into the fabric of the club, even if it’s a small nametag on a t-shirt not worn anymore because of staining. Wycombe’s forthcoming fixtures are steeper than Brill Hill and with popular icons such as Bloomfield and Torres weeping on the sidelines with bone knocks, that man Neil Lennon could just get us over the finish line.     

So tonight let even the most squawking of drone, the most rabid of Englishman, the most clammy of middle-managers get behind all eleven of the Wycombe players. This is the start of the run-in, this is no time to get all Zola Budd.     
]]></description><pubDate>Tue, 11 Mar 2008 12:17:02 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/tucker-chump/superabundance/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/tucker-chump/superabundance/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Focus On... Darlington]]></title><description><![CDATA[  
SMBU soccer historian Paul Hunchback looks back at connections between Darlington and Wanderers ahead of tomorrow’s game.     >               

  Jimmy Chill    
King James I of England once rapped [NB: not rapped, it was 380 years too early] of Darlington: “Darnton has a bonny, bonny church, With a broach upon the steeple, But Darnton is a mucky, mucky town, And mair sham on the people”. Less well known is his rhyming on High Wycombe: “Chepping Wycombe oh what a place, I go there late to get offe my face. Ye can drink and dance and whoop for weeks but pray watch out for Sheriff Beeks.”
    

  Training Match    
When the world’s first railway line opened in the Darlington region and a train went up and down it and back up again, Wycombe decided to challenge Darlington to a celebratory exhibition match and sent up a crack side to play the local club. Sadly, a delivery of strong opium had come into Buckinghamshire that week and the players and management panel overindulged on the long trip north. The disgraceful scenes culminated with Wanderers’ inside-left Bryan Adams vomiting copiously over George Stephenson. It was a national scandal and just weeks later parliament voted to approve a law that guaranteed in perpetuity that anyone getting the train from High Wycombe to London would have to run 250 yards down and up a tunnel at high speed in order to catch it. “The wicked beggars of Wickham [sic] will sweat out their opium and they shall dry in the holy sun”, said someone at the time. 
    

  Bearded Terror     
Real Ale maniacs flock to Darlington every year to attend the famous   Rhythm'n'Brews   real ale festival which at least gets them off the streets for a bit I suppose. Buckinghamshire tipples making the trip north for the 2008 event include Unnamed Dog Skull, Len King’s Ale for Toddlers, Hedgefucker, Princeton University’s Patent Powdered Milkshake, Sausage In A Wet Pint Glass, Horny Spitfire Pilot’s Courage and Zeebrugge. To qualify for the festival, an ale has to prove that it is 98% water with some mud put in for colour. 
    
]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 07 Mar 2008 14:33:10 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-darlington/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-darlington/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[SMBU&#039;s Tom Doherty]]></title><description><![CDATA[It's the second week of Tom 'Tom' Doherty's sponsorship deal with SMBU (we give some money to the club and they spend it on a specialised windowcleaner for Scores.) Here is a roundup for our pal Tom (he hates us).     

  Tommy's week        

  Match performance       

Tommy looked a bit tired at Lincoln - he'd probably been out too much the week before chasing up last week's recommendations. You don't need to follow them all up, Tom.     

  Criticism       

A few narky remarks about Tom on the gasroom after Wycombe lost a game. What's he supposed to do - score a double hat-trick? Grow the fuck up.    

  Midweek       

No match until Saturday, so why not take in a bit of:     

    Cinema         

No Country for Old Men. Don’t be fooled by the Oscars. Faithful to Cormac McCarthy’s bleak thriller, this is a corker of a feel-bad movie from the Coen Brothers. The acting – from Tommy Lee Jones, Josh Brolin, Javier Bardem and Kelly MacDonald is as taut as the hard-bitten Texas dialogue. Based in 1980 in a border country which the sheriff, Jones, is increasingly convinced is going to hell in a hand cart, Brolin’s Vietnam vet comes across millions in drug money and then runs, trying only to keep ahead of Bardem’s psychopathic hitman. Hidden depths in this one - a real gem.     

    TV         

Everyone knows TV sucks, but if you must … If you’re in tonight, at least put off switching on Channel 4 until some self-promoting bint has ceased trying to persuade Marlow to give up its car addiction and tune into the beautifully bearded monologues of Frank Gallagher on Shameless. Alternatively, you could better use your time on a...     

    Book         

Ian McEwan’s “On Chesil Beach”. McEwan uses his masterly abilities to pull apart pre-sexual revolution sixties England. It is 1962 and Edward and Florence have just got married. They are intelligent, mature and ready to take life on – he as a historian, she a musician. Fatally, the constraints of the age mean that they are both virgins and have had no inclination or ability to discuss their attitudes or feelings towards sex. This is a tragedy of manners, in which McEwan draws a convincing picture of the pair’s path through childhood and adolescence – she in Oxford, he in Turville – to a defining honeymoon night in a hotel overlooking Chesil Beach. As if this weren’t enough, a crucial element of the story takes place on Wycombe station.     

    Gig         

Yet more musings on Englishness, as Billy Bragg makes a hotly awaited comeback. Be at the Roundhouse or be in the square house.     

    LP        

Bragg's own Mr Love and Justice is out this week. But you might also want to grab a moody copy of the soon-to-be-released debut album by Foals. It's got more Hooks than north Oxfordshire and if you listen to it this week you can be ahead of the crowd.    

    Beard Of The Week        
  
    

]]></description><pubDate>Tue, 04 Mar 2008 15:10:36 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/smbus-tom-doherty/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/smbus-tom-doherty/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Thoughts and Words]]></title><description><![CDATA[  Ron Waller  
    
  Lincoln City 1 Wycombe Wanderers 0  
    
And so the unbeaten away run of 2008 comes to a crashing end with a one nil defeat that should have certainly been by two, and probably three or four. Wanderers fans traipsed out of Sincil Bank bemoaning a lack of creativity, a lack of balance in midfield and a lack of tactical awareness from Paul Lambert. We’ve been here before haven’t we? 
    
The loudest concern by far is that the midfield is unbalanced, in that it’s far too defensive. Well, it’s not unbalanced if your tactics are to dominate the midfield, break everything up, win all the second balls, and create 3 or 4 half chances, bank on someone taking one and then defend the lead for the rest of the game. At times it works, and Holt, Doherty and Lennon hunted in packs in the first half, like three ex-Premier League bullies, occasionally forcing the ball through for Knight or McGleish to almost get in behind the Lincoln defence. The midfield isn’t unbalanced if that’s how we want to play but the question remains, would we be playing like that if Paul Lambert hadn’t bought Neil Lennon? And perhaps, if that’s the only way we can play, there’s something to worry about. 
    
The biggest problem looks to be the injury to Sergio. A bruising midfield trio with Sergio in front of them is one thing; unfortunately having Matt Bloomfield in that role is another. Time will tell just how important Sergio’s flair and invention is to this team, and it may well hit home when a fat cheque from Nottingham Forest arrives in the post this summer. On Saturday, this Wycombe side looked bloated – full of experience and cynicism but lacking in guile and charm.
    
It doesn’t help when you’re playing Lincoln City, on a sunny day, at a ground just on the right side of ramshackle, backed by a glorious view of the cathedral in the distance and the river running cheerfully alongside the away end entrance. This game was the last before Lincoln manager Peter Jackson begins treatment for throat cancer, and both sets of players and fans were on their feet to give a moving reception for him prior to the game. Yet emotion surrounding Sincil Bank seems to have more resonance due to their position as a genuine community club. Jackson was the democratically-selected choice of Lincoln’s fans, via the clubs biggest share-holder – the Supporters Trust.
    
Their side raised their game in the second half, especially after the introduction of Dany N’Guessan with half an hour to go. Frank Fielding made several saves to keep Wycombe in it, but there’s little he can do about the eventual winner. Perhaps the problem with looking to nick games with defensive performances and half chances, is that every so often you’ll come undone by sheer quality. There was no-one to blame when a superb piece of skill from Lenell John-Lewis created room for him to spread the ball left to Louis Dodds, whose control was immaculate and curling 20 yard shot as good a finish as you’ll see. Sometimes you concede good goals, and the only answer is to score some yourself. That never looked like happening for Wycombe on Saturday. The monotonous drum beat belted out by an away fan for most of the game replicated the predictable nature of Wycombe’s few attacks. 
    
Lincoln were hardly word beaters in comparison, but had far more in terms of creativity, with John-Lewis particularly impressive. A product of the Grantham Town youth system, the 18-year-old was given a contract by Jackson in December and looks an excellent prospect. For all Wycombe’s steel, Lincoln matched it, with Centre of Excellence graduates Shane Clarke and Danny Hone particularly impressive, the latter picking up the Man of the Match award for his troubles. Jamie Forrester misses an open goal two minutes from time, but there’s little concern from the home crowd that Wycombe will make him pay for it.
    
This was a deserved win for Lincoln, but the overriding feeling is that the play-offs will still happen and that promotion is still a decent possibility. Yet driving away from Sincil Bank on Saturday, it was difficult not to feel impressed, enthused almost, that there is another way. Lincoln are a club primarily owned by their fans, for their fans, as trite as that may sound. Everywhere you look the Supporters Trust seem active, dynamic in their approach to ensure investment and a future for the club. They make a slight profit as well, practically unheard of for League 2 clubs. Young, home grown players make up most of the team. The ground is made up of new stands, old stands and bizarre tiny stands, but everyone here, and in the Trust Bar afterwards, seems pretty proud of what they’ve got. 
    
I don’t think you can say that at Wycombe at the moment. We’re sixth, but no one seems very happy about it, or at least those storming out the away end on Saturday don’t. The solution, it seems, to this minor wobble and slight setback to Wycombe’s push for the play-offs, is to secure another ex-Premiership player on loan. We will wait and see. It may well be, I suppose. 
    
I have to say that. The last thing anyone round here needs is more cynicism.
    ]]></description><pubDate>Mon, 03 Mar 2008 10:07:28 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/thoughts-and-words/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/thoughts-and-words/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Focus On... Lincoln]]></title><description><![CDATA[            
SMBU soccer historian Paul Hunchback looks back at connections between Lincoln and Wanderers ahead of tomorrow’s game.     

  An Exhibition Match    
The injured and wailing of Lincolnshire are urging Wanderers fans to come to Sincil Bank tomorrow to see a specially arranged exhibition match between Lincoln City and a crack Wycombe team, designed to raise funds for those affected by the recent earthquake that rocked the region. Organisers hope to raise enough money to replace some cups that broke and a mirror that may be cracked although it could be just a smudge. A WWFC spokesman announced today “we have ordered in an enormous amount of cans to drink on the trip and the players are in high sprits.” The club have also released a limited edition t-shirt with the logo “Lincolnshire 2008: My Dog Woke Up And Barked But Then Went Back To Sleep Quite Soon After” on the front. They are on sale now at the club shop for £200.
    

  Roger Hunt    
Wycombe’s directors will be boycotting Saturday’s game as a protest at unofficial county anthem ‘The Lincolnshire Poacher’. The folk song, which exalts the pleasure of stalking hare and deer in the dead of night, is understood to have enraged the Wanderers board, after they recently announced plans to graze deer on the Adams Park pitch during the week. An insider this week informed Hunchbackmedia™ that “the Wycombe stadium has woods behind it and quite clean toilet facilities making it ideal for hunting parties. Football is dying, the sport of the 21st century is venison hunting, it’s a shoo-in for 2012.” The club also plan to outlaw any Wycombe fans heard praising the art of poaching, with the strictest punishment being either season ticket confiscation or removal of the right hand. 
    

  Don’t Get Sniffy     
Giant nosed striker Lincoln Mark Stallard will miss Saturday’s game after the former Wanderer, noted for his giant nose, was sent off in the Imps’ defeat at Rotherham last weekend. His suspension will cause Lincoln fans to hope for good weather over the next few weeks as his giant nose acts as a welcome rain shield during inclement home games. Lincoln city council have also recently employed Stallard as a human sun dial. He stands by the cathedral on Sundays and the shadow cast by his frankly enormous nose is said to indicate the time more precisely than the speaking clock. 
    
]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 29 Feb 2008 14:05:37 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-lincoln/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-lincoln/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Shambolic Meanderings Beyond Us?]]></title><description><![CDATA[  Alf the Chum  
     
Watching over the SMBU articles from here deep in the Buckinghamshire countryside is getting so frigging hard these days, I just don't understand half of it, what on earth is going on? 
     
Have they employed a load of unculled ex-students whileing away their time in some Oxbridge establishment? It's getting much too clever for it's own good, incomprehensible so-called superior rubbish at its best (or worst).
I find myself not bothering to finish reading some of the articles as I fail to make any sense of it, are the writers on an ego-trip? You've got to remember I never was a student.
     
Where has the humour gone? Where has the ground-roots fan-talk gone? Where has the criticism gone? Has there been an editorial decision to be more club friendly? Are the editors taking a back-hander?
     
Less of a FANZINE . . . More of a PLCZINE.
    
Not a bad Sunday really.
    ]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 29 Feb 2008 14:02:56 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/shambolic-meanderings-beyond-us/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/shambolic-meanderings-beyond-us/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Animal&#039;s People]]></title><description><![CDATA[  Indra Sinha  
    
About twenty years ago, I remember sitting, reading in an aged armchair in a shabby student bedsit in the East End.  It was January, about minus 12 outside and the snow was piled high in Stepney.     
    
I was reading Brendan Behan’s Borstal Boy.  It’s a long time ago now, but if I recall correctly, the passage described Behan, becoming more at ease in the borstal and with his fellow inmates, having a great, sociable, happy day in summer.  He described the rural scene and the physical and social warmth beautifully and I was totally absorbed – so much so that I was surprised to “come round” again to the cold urban reality.
    
It’s part of what books are for, to take the reader away for a bit.  And if you fancy a journey to a poisoned Bhopal, then Animal’s People is the book for you.  Indra Sinha doesn’t call it Bhopal – “it’s Khaufpur” – but it’s an Indian city living with the effects of a massive industrial chemical disaster, forgotten by the world, save for the odd passing journalist, but still boiling with anger in itself.  
    
The character through whose eyes we see life in the slums of this city is Animal: a teenager orphaned by the accident as a baby, and whose spine has subsequently contorted so much that he must walk on all fours.  He lives on his wits though begging and fleecing tourists.  He’s some creation: a post-apocalyptic Holden Caulfield with knobs on.  Never craving sympathy for himself, yet regularly invoking it for others, his combination of abrasive self-reliance, contempt for authority and recurring delusions serve to paint an extraordinary picture.
    
The device Sinha uses is a series of tapes that Animal has recorded after stealing a cassette player from a gullible journalist.  Using a warped “Inglis” language worthy of Anthony Burgess, these document the campaign, with a band of relatively well-off protesters who welcome him into their fold, to bring the “Kampani” responsible for the accident to justice.  The language, difficult at first, is crucial to pulling you into this slum world – a labyrinth rich with characters.  
    
Nisha is the pure, beautiful and unattainable object of Animal’s affections, who is committed to Zafar, the erudite, peaceful and attractive leader of the protesting pack.  Farouq is the henchman Animal resents, but rubs along with.  And Pandit Somraj, Nita’s father, a noble and statesmanlike, bearded presence (Tommy Doherty I hear you say?) who, though widowed by the accident and robbed of the famous singing voice with which he previously earned a living, refuses to sink anywhere near the level of the company or the state. And there is Ma Franci who taught Animal French in the orphanage before becoming so mad that she can only speak French and thinks that the rest of Khaufpur is babbling nonsensically.
    
Into this world parachutes Elli Barber an American doctor who opens a clinic offering free treatment to all.  But is “Elli Doctress” for real, or just a company stooge sent to collect skewed evidence for a court case?
    
Ultimately, the plot cannot bear the weight of the language or the characters that Sinha creates.  But hey, Shakespeare managed to make a fair career in spite of dodgier plots.  And Animal’s network of ne’er-do-wells, individual saints and corporate sinners make this a corking excursion. 
    ]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 29 Feb 2008 10:36:37 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/petrol-ronnies-literary-review/animals-people/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/petrol-ronnies-literary-review/animals-people/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Where&#039;s the video tapes Tommy?]]></title><description><![CDATA[          ]]></description><pubDate>Thu, 28 Feb 2008 10:44:03 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/wheres-the-video-tapes-tommy/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/wheres-the-video-tapes-tommy/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Falling and Laughing]]></title><description><![CDATA[  Ron Waller  
    
Let’s not muck about – it’s time for the post match Q&A to come to an end. For those that witnessed the painful display of Alan Parry attempting to drag out the session after the Rotherham home game, it’s a no-brainer. Presumably the idea originally was to try and bring fans and players closer together at the end of a game. Instead it succeeds only in driving them apart. 
    
The Post-match Q&A achieves only one thing, and that’s the act of reducing Wycombe’s supporters to nothing but a hindrance to the players. A sour collective of moaning, downbeat types that for some unknown reason need to be fed a banquet of cliché and catchphrases until they finally, ultimately, eventually decide to get the fuck out of the Vere Suite. 
    
It’s become obvious now. Most supporters aren’t like this. Most people have gone home. Long gone, with much better things to do – like drinking, eating, socialising, sitting in traffic or doing a jigsaw. The players work hard for a result, have a shower and then their hearts must sink at the thought of having to answer questions that no-one really wants to ask. Questions about other players’ injuries, other players’ contracts, the new ground, the transfer targets – none of which can be answered by the players. So they politely mumble their way through a stock answer, silently praying that no further questions will be asked. Any queries of the players’ performance themselves come across as either embarrassingly fawning, or plain rude and inappropriate.   Who have you ever played for eh?   As someone once griped. If we have lost, what player wants to get changed and then be berated by the fans up close? Are we not all just as disappointed and want to get home? What are achieving apart from some kind of executive stress ball for bitter characters?
    

Worse still, it seems no-one is listening anyway. At the post Rotherham Q&A the televisions were on, Manchester United v Arsenal played, club staff chatted and giggled loudly at the back of the room. Scott McGleish reminded me of years gone by, when you were forced to listen to elderly relatives blather on, when you knew Big Match Live was on, and you could be watching it rather than putting up with this tiresome drivel forced upon you by your Mum. McGleish wanted to watch the Arsenal game, we all did, but oh no, we have to pay lip service to some bizarre ritual of “fans having their say”, even when they had nothing to say.  
    

Enough is enough. End this insipid exhibition of gloomy whining. It’s too late for all this. It’s March. There is nothing to gain by criticising players, tactics or formations at Q&A sessions in the Vere Suite, even if you are just waiting for the traffic to die down. We all want promotion - players, fans and staff – it’s two months of your life, supporting the club. It’s not that much. 
    

You’re either in this or you’re not. We go to Lincoln. We go as one. See you there.
    
]]></description><pubDate>Tue, 26 Feb 2008 18:13:09 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/falling-and-laughing/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/falling-and-laughing/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Tom Doherty - Sponsored by SMBU]]></title><description><![CDATA[  A great first week for Tommy Doherty under the new sponsorship of his away shirt. A conglomerate of up to 47   smbu.co.uk   directors have invested heavily in Tommy's away shirt, and the rewards are starting to show already. 
    
  Well Done  
    
Tom - well done on Saturday. Great performance and the shirt looked good. Very few creases and a decent fit. 
    
  Criticism  
    
Criticism of Tommy has been minimal this week. Please note those wishing to criticise our player/shirt will be criticised back. Like fucking hell. Bring your dinner, bring your mates. 
    
  This week  
    
No midweek game this week Tom so some suggestions for the rest of the week from all here at SMBU:
    
    Cinema    
    
Edge of Heaven - A bold and exhilarating film about immigrants finding their way in postwar Germany
    
    TV    
    
That Mitchell and Webb Look on Thursday – BBC 2 at 9pm. 
    
    Book    
    
Animal's People by Indra Sinha - looks a bit heavy but full review to follow later this week
    
    HOT TIP    
    
The new Charlatans album is available to download at charlatans.net. Get involved. 
    
    Beard of The Week    
    
This barn-storming beard is a great one to kick things off with.
    
      ]]></description><pubDate>Mon, 25 Feb 2008 17:44:34 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/tom-doherty-sponsored-by-smbu/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/tom-doherty-sponsored-by-smbu/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[There&#039;s no heart you can&#039;t melt]]></title><description><![CDATA[  JKDH  
    
  Rochdale 0 Wycombe Wanderers 1  
    

Approaching Rochdale is a strange experience.  With the surrounding homes already plundered for raw materials to burn upon the pitch, it appeared that the local population had been sacrificed too.  No people, no parking restrictions and no over zealous stewarding, “you can do what you like here as long as you don’t cause trouble”. Er, righto. 
    
But what’s this? Men in quartered shirts boosting the profits of the local chippy, familiar signs of life after all.  £2.50 a pint inside the ground (“is that lager or bitter, luv?”), as many serving staff as punters and music to cheer the soul.  It’s not often you get to hear Mersey Paradise or Stereolab’s French Disko while watching the ramshackle collective that is Wycombe’s away following devouring some sensational pies.  Well worth having the tannoy cranked up to 11 out of 10. This trip was always a good idea.  
    
  Are You Blue Or Are You Blind (ref)?  
    
Rochdale away is not a fixture to usually get the pulse racing, but this was big.  Big like all but a couple of Rochdale’s well-drilled side. Pre-match talk of Holt’s absence and games in hand were wide of the mark.  This was about the weight of expectation - Wycombe’s bearded maestro now having to cope with smbu’s full public awayday backing. No pressure son and the boy done good, if perhaps fortunate to remain on the pitch for questioning the many questionable decisions in the 2nd half – this following a textbook yellow card.  Plenty of chit chat in the Wycombe midfield these days.  Long may it continue.
    
However, this performance was not about one man.  Unfortunately, nobody had told the member of the away support who had travelled specifically to tell Neil Lennon he wasn’t very good.  Make no mistake, everything good about Wycombe’s 1st half football went through Lennon. But still, one stray pass and we were treated to groans of “watch your passing, Lennon”.   Good tip that, and how it paid off as he watched very closely indeed, spraying a fine first time ball out wide to Martin who side-stepped some smouldering debris to send Knight racing clear. I hope he muttered ‘turbo boost’ as he sprinted on and lashed home.  I hope Lennon muttered some words of thanks as he trotted back as well….
    
  Cut Some Rug  
    
What followed bodes well for the run in. Very well.  This is League 2, a league where good football can be played but where a desire to run yourself into the ground and throw your body around gets you a heck of a long way.  Combining both might just be an idea eh?  The 2nd half was ugly, football in scant supply partly due to Sergio’s absence and partly because there was another decent team out there with the cheek to turn up and play.  From McGleish back, the defensive display was immense and playing a left footed player on the left is working wonders, Woodman showing great promise at left midfield too following Johnson’s switch to full back.  Welcome back Williamson, well done all.  Grown men in blue quartered shirts charging around for the sake of 3 points and chasing the dream of more away games within a 3 hour radius of London.  It’s all about dreams. 
    
When the whistle finally blew, the celebrations were loud, proud and tinged with no little relief at having kept the home side at bay – restricted to long-range efforts bar one alarming opening that Le Fondre blazed high.  Jigs of delight both on and off the pitch, more of the same come May please.  I dare to dream.  So does Matt Bloomfield – leading the celebrations at the end to bring to close a superb afternoon that warmed away the cold and swirling wind.
    
This was a good idea.  This was big. 
    ]]></description><pubDate>Mon, 25 Feb 2008 15:48:32 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/theres-no-heart-you-cant-melt-/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/theres-no-heart-you-cant-melt-/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Jumble Sale Mums]]></title><description><![CDATA[It must be tough for many Wycombe supporters as the team grind out vital wins against promotion rivals such as Rotherham and Rochdale. There is a seething mass of naysayers just waiting for Wanderers to slip up so they can infest the gasroom abusing the manager and demanding mortal action because a substitution didn’t quite work in the way it was supposed to be.     

Nonetheless, it would be easy to put the rose tinted glasses on and claim that this is a new phenomenon, fuelled by the internet, alcopops and Poles but back in 1993-94 it was little different. Despite the club riding on the crest of its most successful ever wave, led by a manager so good even Bullet Beeks gave him five years, many Wycombe fans were still complaining viciously as the promotion push faltered.     

A commanding start to the season was followed by a late winter/early spring of woe and the knives came out quicker than a moody chef on a crack pipe. Nothing you do can placate these people, every Wycombe win is only a sign for them to hold fire for a week. Then when the defeat does come along they emerge all guns blazing, their buzzwords of PASSION, BELIEF, INCONSISTENCY, SHORTBREAD and MATTERS exploding like a dog full of semtex.     

Well Wycombe have won two games in a row and the rest of us, the sane, are delighted. Just like people never get to read the nice things in their own obituaries, not enough is made of the wins when they come along. So thankyou to Paul Lambert and the team for making our Saturday evening more sparkly. You never know, even the hateful spite-monkeys might muster a smile as they knock back another shot of Cillit Bang.     
]]></description><pubDate>Sat, 23 Feb 2008 18:28:13 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/tucker-chump/jumble-sale-mums/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/tucker-chump/jumble-sale-mums/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Focus On... Rochdale]]></title><description><![CDATA[            
SMBU soccer historian Paul Hunchback looks back at connections between Rochdale and Wanderers ahead of tomorrow’s game.     

  Hitler’s Window    
Rochdale is famous for its stained glass window, a thing of such beauty that Hitler was rumoured to be keen to seize it had his invasion of Britain been successful. In a curious twist, Wycombe council are currently known to be funding a stained glass window of Hitler, though its destination remains unknown at present. 20 feet in height, the window will show Hitler playing backgammon with a wrestler in 1942. Council spokesman Godwin Law added “it looks really good, he’s got a little moustache and everything.”    

  Where’s Your Dinner Son?    
In 1795 food riots swept the north of England and Rochdale was engulfed. Wycombe sent a crack un-codified football outfit to play an exhibition game for the hungry locals. Sadly, heavy drinking on the stagecoach north amongst the Wanderers players [NB: it was a squad of 45 with 43 in the starting line-up] caused massive problems. As the players came out for the second half, Wycombe player Lord Hotcross whipped out a picnic blanket and laid out a hearty spread of potted meats. As ravenous Rochdale fans surged forward to smell the food, Hotcross ground every piece into the turf with his boot, shouting “let them eat cake, or rather, let them not”. He was cut down by a cutlass but the rest of the Wycombe team escaped fairly easily.
    

  Simon Says     
Simon Stapleton will be guest of honour before Saturday’s match and the former Wycombe midfielder will be presented with a kind of trophy in memory of his atrocious miss in the 1-1 draw between the sides in April 1994. Still regarded as the worst miss ever seen at Adams Park, the howler inspired a group of Rochdale fans to start to worship Stapleton as a messiah, a process that ended badly in 1996 when the sect set fire to their own faces and had to be taken down by police marksmen up on the moors. When their retreat was searched afterwards, forensic scientists found video recordings of the group trying to recreate Stapleton’s miss. In 2,593 frenzied attempts, not a single person managed it. 
    
]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 22 Feb 2008 13:19:09 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-rochdale/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-rochdale/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[We&#039;re not shivering, we&#039;re excited]]></title><description><![CDATA[  oily sailor       

Wycombe Wanderers 1 Rotherham United 0    

The usual people were along for this one. There was Captain Scott, Roald Amundsen, Captain Oates and that Ben Fogle, all men with experience of the cold, but none of them were prepared for the Valley End. As leering specialists with Nikons snapped the red kites shitting frozen pellets onto the pitch like dark rain, the mutterers prepared for Wycombe’s latest attempt to win a home game since the bad run had begun after someone had said “oh we’re strong at home, yeah”.     

It was the same line-up as the midweek CAPITULATION at Bury, which meant that the shortbread snappers were raging at 45 central midfielders and barking out sentences like “I’m worried, the Scottish don’t really cope with cold weather, we need some Bucks men from the central Bucks plainlands where horses stamp their hooves through frozen puddles just to look at their own reflection”.     

These men are, were and will be idiots all their lives.     

Still, the temperature had now dropped to -8c and one fan was licking a frozen pool of Bovril from his own twitching arm. Could things get worse? Yes, Wycombe were attacking the Valley End first half, which is the football equivalent of eating your piri-piri chicken leg before the cabbage. Not wise.     

Still, Rotherham were here with their cultured Euro ways, a 39 metre TIVOLI flag announcing their continental prowess. Faceless northern team in a yellow away shirt is another way of looking at it but let’s not get nippy, it was nippy enough.     

The first half flashed by with few chances, though Sergio Torres did wail an effort high of the bar at some point. This inspired a “S-e-r-g-i-o” chant but through gritted chattering teeth it sounded more like Monday morning in the East Penge Constipation Clinic. Neil Lennon was impressing some fans with his endless time on the ball and calm delivery, while others were flecking up with rage that he was not surging past the Millers’ defence like Jermaine McSporran on a motorbike.     

It could well have been this latter group that booed as the referee (not bad for a terrorist) blew his whistle for half-time. Booing the team when they’re level in a promotion clash at the break is about as ungrateful as urinating on your grandmother’s face on Christmas morning as she weeps uncomprehendingly into the fudge. There is a culture at Wycombe that needs to be stamped out, and fast.     

The second half was a little more entertaining, with the game opening up, especially after SMBU cult hero David McCracken scored his first Wanderers goal on 50 minutes. McCracko has decent hair, is a leader of men and is Scottish. All great teams have a Scottish captain and Cracky is as Scottish as a Buckfast soaked pound note.     

You would have expected promotion-chasing Rotherham to have mounted a counter-surge but this never really transpired. Gary Holt and Neil Lennon formed an auburn axis that looked solid and once Matt Bloomfield had come on for Michael Knight Wycombe could have extended their lead further. To be honest, it was hard to see what was going on at the other end of the pitch as the cold had brought on Aurora Borealis above Sands, although it could have been the new disco lights going into the Hour Glass.     

Wycombe fans traipsed out of the ground as happy as they ever can be, frozen fingers trying to pull pound coins from cylindrical plastic money pouches slung around their necks. As the windowless bleak beacon that is Scores dragged us inside, Captain Oates whispered to me: “I’m going to queue at the bar, I may be some time.”     
]]></description><pubDate>Wed, 20 Feb 2008 12:47:46 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/were-not-shivering-were-excited/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/were-not-shivering-were-excited/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[A Kiss Without a Beard is Like an Egg Without Salt]]></title><description><![CDATA[  Every so often the ultra stylish men of smbu get the notion that growing some facial hair is a good idea. Days and weeks pass by, checking mirrors and glancing at shop window reflections thinking 'it’s just a matter of time' but it’s not. It is always the same old story. Just like half the teenagers in the Valley End, no matter what the effort of cultivation they are left with a disaster less Marvin Gaye and more Amish farmer. Too wispy, too blotchy, too pubey, too ginger. Always a waste of fucking time.
    
On the same note there are men at smbu who think they know what to do with a football, talk a good game, shout the odds, dissect intricate tactics and regale everyone with tales of heroism in pointless six-a-side games. They are just as deluded.
    
But there is a man who lives our dreams, a warrior, who quite frankly is too good for this division. He can be found patrolling the midfields of the fourth division crushing opponents and donning a beard that looks like he wrestles bears. Yet watch him carefully and he is nothing like the majority of clowns who play centre midfield at this level. He knows how to bring a ball down gracefully, make space, look around, bring other players into attack, pass sensibly, sometimes nonchalantly... er make intricate tactics look easy. Whatever. Spiky yet cultured. 
    
      
  
In   celebration   jealousy smbu are proud to announce the sponsorship of Tommy Doherty’s away shirt. Now if ever there was a reason for the club not to pointlessly change the kit on away trips this is surely it. Do not bring him down to our level. Good luck Tommy.
    ]]></description><pubDate>Tue, 19 Feb 2008 17:01:22 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/a-kiss-without-a-beard-is-like-an-egg-without-salt/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/a-kiss-without-a-beard-is-like-an-egg-without-salt/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Big blubbery lips like Mick Jagger]]></title><description><![CDATA[  Ron Waller  
    
Words get wasted in football in 2008. All the time, words are spoken and written and they mean nothing. When the Premier League makes proposals that they know are going to be unpopular, hundreds of thousands of words get wasted on blogs, message boards, in fanzines, in pubs, by coffee machines. When football clubs raise ticket prices, words get chucked around, articles get published, there are chants, songs and plenty of abusive shouting. All a waste. Big waste. Cyril Smith’s trousers.      

Football fans talk a lot, and in the Internet age, they write a lot. The more political or issue-based writing on football, though enjoyable, sometimes thought-provoking and even entertaining, is starting to come across as the biggest waste of them all. 
    
Time to face facts, for facts sake. On the announcement of the 39th Step by the Premier League - the extra game to please the ex-pat fans across the world - an internet petition against it was quickly set up. To date, around 14,000 people have signed the petition. 14,000. A full Adams Park and nearly a half. Wow. From the whole country. From every fan for every club in the country. For every single person who is involved in the 43,000 registered football clubs in England, 14,000 people have signed a petition against the dreaded 39th game. It is an eye opener for some, a nail in the coffin for others. In case you’re still a bit sleepy though, give them a rub. 
    
There are enough people in this country who support the Premier League plans. There are plenty of people who support Premier League clubs and have no interest in the remainder of domestic football. There are thousands of people who don’t look at £52 for a ticket at Craven Cottage and feel repulsed. They just pay it - they can afford to. There are   fucking loads of them.   Everywhere you look, everywhere you drink, there are people who are football fans, who love the Premier League, and don’t even know, let alone care, what division Wycombe Wanderers are in. Why should they? The Premier League is run to make money for its clubs. Football League clubs are run to make money for their owners. People pay thousands upon thousands for tickets, hospitality and all the rest. This is how it is. 
    
At Wycombe Wanderers, it is no different. The club spends wildly beyond its means, in the hope that League 1, and then the Championship, and the money that comes with it, will be the end result. Everything at the club is valued by money. There is no other possible purpose for anything the football club does, other than to make money. The much-vaunted Football in the Community schemes are possible because they are cheap and they pay for themselves. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t happen. Any community work that creates goodwill is welcomed, not for the goodwill itself but because the goodwill might create some more customers, who bring some more money.  Match reports are written on the official site in the hope that someone will read them and then come to a game and spend. The state of the pitch can be jeopardised but justified by anything that brings the club money. And where does all the money go?  On the greedy players. Greedy, greedy Kevin Sheedy, as the old Bucks nursery rhyme goes. 
    
So why do we have to pay these gluttonous players so much? The ones who Football Club Directors fawn over in one bar, then move through to the next bar to tell supporters these players are the reason - the greedy, greedy reason - for the club’s impending financial abyss. Well, really, because everyone else does. Bit childish? Would we jump off a cliff if Reading did it? Er, like so totally, yeah. 
    
Why do we charge £5 for a child’s birthday to be advertised on the Great Big Screen? Answer: Well, Watford charge £30 –   so have a pop at them eh  . Why is £5 to park at the ground now? Answer: Well, Reading’s a tenner –   so whinge at those fuckers.    Why do the club take a £3 entrance fee from about 11 people for Reserve games? Answer: Well Aldershot charge that for Reading Reserves, and might even have to stand up there. The only reason to not charge would be goodwill, because goodwill brings more money, but then people who go to Reserve games aren’t big spenders, so we need their money up front. Cough cough, Frank Bough. 
    
The big one of course is: why do we pay up to £1500 a week for players? Answer: Because we have to compete. We have to be promoted, and that’s what all the other top teams pay. If anything is certain in football, it’s that nothing is certain. One or two people will tell you different, that there is no certainty that money will bring promotion, or that a player paid one wage will be guaranteed to get you promotion, while a player paid another won’t. The only certainty, says the old man in the anorak, is that if you keep borrowing money, you have to pay it back one day. 
    
Basic stuff son, basic stuff you say. It’s the way of the world and we have to live with it. We do, but we only do if everyone agrees with it. I don’t agree with it. I believe football clubs have greater value than money. I believe there is more to Wycombe Wanderers Football Club than the pursuit of cold hard cash. But it only matters if other Wycombe fans believe it as well. I’d like to think they do.
    
I could start an internet petition and eleven people could sign it, and it would probably be the same eleven twats who pay to watch the Reserve team. What a waste, and all that. 
    ]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 15 Feb 2008 10:21:07 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/big-blubbery-lips-like-mick-jagger/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/big-blubbery-lips-like-mick-jagger/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Focus On... Rotherham]]></title><description><![CDATA[

SMBU soccer historian Paul Hunchback looks back at connections between Rotherham and Wanderers ahead of tomorrow’s game.                 

  The 2007 Floods    
Rotherham was hugely affected by flooding in summer 2007, with water sweeping off the bleak moors into the town centre, leaving everyone but arrogant waterfowl apoplectic with rage. As usual a crack Wanderers team was sent to play an exhibition match but heavy drinking amongst the Wycombe team again caused problems. The game was suspended early in the second half after the visiting players came out after the break wearing snorkels and flippers. Once the home fans realised the coded insult (54 minutes) there was a widespread pitch invasion and the Wycombe team had to be rescued in an orange boat by the RNLI.  
    


  Those Fellas    
Pub quiz aficionados are to present a special trophy to the two team managers, Paul Lambert and Mark Robins, before the Wycombe v Rotherham game this weekend. Lambert, known usually as “the British player who won a Champions League medal with Borussia Dortmund” and Robins, known usually as “the player who scored the goal that saved Alex Ferguson’s job at Manchester United” are said to be ‘slightly pleased’ at the joint-award. The trophy will be presented by someone from the only western European capital city without a river running through it. [NB: Picture bonus round has been cancelled as the photocopier’s gone on the blink].
.    


  Construction News     
Wycombe’s builder chairman Ivor Beeks has banned use of steel from steelmills in Rotherham as it has been touched by gruff proletariats and is therefore “unclean”. He instead prefers his company to source metal from an upper-class production centre in leafy Surrey, even though the southern steel has only 10% of the strength of the Rotherham product. This is largely due to the usage of Wellington boots, foxes and port in the smelting process. 
    
]]></description><pubDate>Thu, 14 Feb 2008 21:05:38 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-rotherham/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-rotherham/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Better get yourself together, darling]]></title><description><![CDATA[  Ron Waller  
    
Wycombe Wanderers 1 Mansfield Town 2
    
Two results in the space of a few weeks that could shape a season, says the man in front of me. Losing at home to the bottom two in the division isn’t in the plan.  If there’s a Wycombe fan that’s not desperate for promotion this season, then they’re keeping pretty quiet. Things are starting to get itchy again. Itchy and Scratchy. 
    
I missed the first sixteen minutes of course. I’m still working hard to adjust my matchday routine to fit the ticketing system at Adams Park, but there’s a long way to go. A mountain to climb. Arriving at 2.53pm, I might have expected to miss the first five minutes but a person buying three tickets on a credit card, who presumably had never used the fucking thing before, taking fifteen minutes to do so, meant that was an optimistic estimate. Wycombe conceded a penalty while I was outside, venting like a poor man’s Meldrew, apparently a lunging Gary Holt was lucky to stay on. 
    
Mansfield look decent enough from what I can make out and you wouldn’t have thought they’re Conference Contenders based on the first 25 minutes. Soon enough though, a thinly bearded Sergio back heels to the man everyone insists on calling Woody, who crosses well for McGleish to head politely home via the underside of the crossbar. Half time comes, and it’s really mild today, especially for the time of year, you know.
    
And so it begins, and this is how it works. The second half kicks off and Wycombe have large amounts of possession on a bobbly old pitch. The opposition sticks men behind the ball, and Doherty and Lennon shuffle the ball between them neatly with little effect. The ball is played across the park, slowly, assuredly, occasionally a ball is chipped in behind and runs through to the keeper. Lambert makes changes, to the personnel at least, if not to the end product. It gets scrappy, it gets frustrating, and greying, balding Mansfield keeper Karl Muggleton has practically nothing to do. Someone comments that he seems to have been on loan somewhere since his sixth birthday. I think we all secretly hope Karl Muggleton’s life is more settled now.
    
Like at the   Deathwish   Premiere, the Winner arrives and everyone is truly sickened. New signing Jefferson Louis finishes impressively to send the away fans, cramped in the old main stand like it’s a Berks & Bucks Senior Trophy Final, mildly bonkers. Anyone who’s ever gone out later than 9.30pm on a Saturday night in Aylesbury knows Jefferson of course. He’s played for everyone, big Arsenal fan, always gets his bottle of bubbles in at the bar, and  was once written off as an ex-Thame United player who did six months for driving badly when he wasn’t supposed to be driving at all. 
    
Working well with Boulding up front, Louis has looked decent all day and yet he personifies the sort of player Wycombe will never be linked with again. There’s no glamour, no former big clubs, no famous friends or family, no recommendation from a media friendly name. Bit like Jonny Dixon really. Meanwhile, John Sutton finds it hard to make an impact up front, and Leon Knight works hard to no avail in replacing him. 
    
The crowd head home, many loudly dissecting Lambert’s decision to play Holt centre-half. It’s hard not to imagine the press conferences for home games resembling something like Groundhog Day:
    
  “So Paul, they got men behind the ball and we couldn’t break them down?”  
    
  “Pretty much.”  
    
It’s not the end of the world, of course, far from it. Most of us are far more optimistic about Bury tonight, simply because the team seem to be more suited to playing away from home. It’s in the must win home games that you can start to see the play-offs slip away. But only a little bit. 
    
We’re still very much in this, you know.
    ]]></description><pubDate>Tue, 12 Feb 2008 09:07:50 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/better-get-yourself-together-darling/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/better-get-yourself-together-darling/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Focus On... Mansfield]]></title><description><![CDATA[  
SMBU soccer historian Paul Hunchback looks back at connections between Mansfield and Wanderers ahead of tomorrow’s game.     
              

  The Miners’ Strike    
An arch-Thatcherite delegation from Wycombe council travelled to Mansfield (when it became clear that many collieries in the area were refusing to strike) to hand over fine wine and egg salad to what were called “Nottinghamshire’s heroes” by acerbic Bucks Free Press columnist Lord Cecil McGhee. As usual, a crack Wanderers team was sent to play the Stags in an exhibition match. Sadly, rampant drunkenness amongst the Wycombe team again caused problems, with left-back Dave Davidson enraging home supporters by “digging for coal” with his bare hands as the teams waited for a corner ball. The team had to be evacuated in a police helicopter [NB: not Airwolf as reported in some books], which accidentally returned south via Yorkshire and blew up a pub in some town or other.
    


  Whose Field?    
Mansfield is named after the Anglo Saxon word for a man’s field which is Mans-field. Historians have argued for many years about which man’s field it was, with the majority settling on muscular lawyer, Sir Michael Mansfield. However, I can reveal that there has been a motion lodged in the high court by Lisa Stansfield who has uncovered evidence that she may own the whole town, although she has urged that no-one forces her to move there as she’s just bought a pretty decent semi in Bovey Tracey.    


  Sex Scenes In Wycombe     
Wycombe Swan will see a stage version of Lady Chatterley’s Lover open this autumn and delegates from Mansfield are planning to campaign for the anti-Mansfield line “that once romantic now utterly disheartening colliery town” to be altered in the new performance. Current favourites to replace it are “Mansfield, it has great access to the M1 but you can barely hear the noise of lorries and that” or “that once landlocked now beachside resort town”. A spokesman for the Wycombe Swan said “any changes must be approved by DH Lawrence, so we’ll give him a bell”.     
]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 08 Feb 2008 19:06:54 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-mansfield/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-mansfield/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Get Innocuous]]></title><description><![CDATA[

Football can set people off on unexpected journeys, the roads as confusing and unsignposted as the lane linking the People’s Republic of Brill Hill with the scum in Ludgershall. Think of Jermain Defoe and Leon Knight, who played in the same team as youngsters. Both scored their first goals for their new sides today, though the former was facing the richest team in Europe while the latter was facing Accrington Stanley.     

No matter, each goal will have felt as sweet.     

Think also of Neil Lennon who 11 months ago was playing at the San Siro against AC Milan and today was performing in front of 1200 flat-capped northern droolers at the Crown Ground.     

No matter, he’s a professional footballer, this is what he does.     

If the team had beaten Dagenham last Tuesday there’d now only be one team (and not even a proper club at that) with more points in the division. With 16 games to go, this is the best chance of promotion since being relegated into this godforsaken division four years ago. All the hysterical drones who campaigned for Paul Lambert to be sacked just two months ago should spend time this evening reflecting on how a 46 game season is a long time. Let’s get physical.     
]]></description><pubDate>Sat, 02 Feb 2008 17:10:16 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/tucker-chump/get-innocuous/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/tucker-chump/get-innocuous/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Focus On... Accrington]]></title><description><![CDATA[
SMBU soccer historian Paul Hunchback looks back at connections between Accrington Stanley and Wanderers ahead of tomorrow’s game.     

            

  The War    
During the war (NB: I’m not sure which one, the page is smudgy) Accrington challenged Wycombe to an exhibition game to entertain the women working in the local gate factory. A crack Wanderers outfit caught the train to Manchester and then were driven to the ground in a red bus. (NB: some eyewitnesses have said the bus was blue but I don’t believe them). As local paper ‘The News & That’ reported at the time: “The High Wycombe players seemed inebriated, with the goalkeeper urinating in great arcs in his goal at regular intervals, something that brought steady jeering from the home supporters”. Rumours also spread that Wycombe were supporters of the enemy (NB: probably Germany) and a pitch invasion saw many of the Wanderers players attacked. The match was never completed and while the WWFC party made it back to Buckinghamshire safely, three days later the gate factory was bombed and every single person killed. (NB: I am informed that wartime gate production was not affected because of another factory eight miles away.)     


  Snowy The Dog    
Do you remember when that dog ran on the pitch during the Accrington v Wycombe game on the opening day of the season? Yes, it was shocking. But it wasn’t the first time it had happened. No, it happened last season as well (NB: unproven using modern definitions of “dog”). Last season the dog was called Snowy and there is an amusing story about Snowy the dog, unfortunately I do not have it to hand. Suffice to say, this dog will never be forgotten and is in many ways the symbol of Wycombe Wanderers, although a swan is the true symbol, not a dog.    


  Cultural Event    
Wanderers fans travelling to Accrington tomorrow could well find securing a room at a local hotel difficult as the town will be celebrating Chinese Jew Year, a festival dating back three years. Every Chinese Jew within eight miles of the town hall is allowed to perform 10 minutes of light entertainment to the rest of the town and it has proven slightly popular. (NB: If you are a Chinese Wycombe fan or a Jewish Wycombe fan it must be stressed you are NOT welcome at the event but if you are a Chinese Jew then please come along, as there aren’t enough people.)    
]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 01 Feb 2008 12:05:56 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-accrington/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/home/focus-on-accrington/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Help The Aged]]></title><description><![CDATA[The news that Neil Lennon has signed for Wycombe Wanderers has sent shudders around the Meat Clinic, as recent cries for the Chairboys to try and control their uncontrollable debt seem to have fallen on deaf ears. The Managing Director may claim that no player earns more than a tenner a week (and an all you can eat buffet in the Vere Suite) but it seems that Wycombe’s midfield wage bill is now a larger fiscal burden than the British Government’s overseas aid package, and with little of the grainy kudos.     

Signing Lennon is a strange move considering that the club already has 2,000 central midfielders, many of them in the “ageing, experienced, plodding” variety. Perhaps the rumours that Matt Bloomfield and/or Sergio Torres have already signed for other clubs are true, but Lennon at Wycombe just doesn’t feel right. He looked off the pace in Dave Carroll’s testimonial, he’s gonna get outrun by the ballboy manageress.     

Braver Wycombe fans sometimes say that the team will walk their way to the title. With Gary Holt and Lennon in the centre of the park, that could literally come true.     
]]></description><pubDate>Thu, 31 Jan 2008 21:41:37 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/tucker-chump/help-the-aged/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/tucker-chump/help-the-aged/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Spoilt rotten]]></title><description><![CDATA[  Harry Secombe  
    
Wycombe Wanderers 0 Dagenham & Redbridge 1
    
Shortly before kick-off, sinister rumours are sweeping the Valley End that those pathetic socialists at the FA have ordered Dagenham to find a new nickname.  A top local journalist has let it be known that, with the East End in knife-crime turmoil, there was an ultimatum from Barwick’s red madmen to get rid of the “Daggers” moniker erm … sharpish.  
     
Much discussion followed of political correctness gone mad and what aspect of East End life should be reflected in the new title – jellied eels? the car industry? pearly queens? multiculturalism? Or maybe they should make use of the Redbridge connection – their turn perhaps? But these riveting lines of thought were rudely interrupted by the football.  
    
We are all unusually optimistic after the Chairboys 1-0 demolition of the Spireites on Saturday, as the game kicked off, and only slightly worried at Bloomfield’s absence. We were reassured that we could cope without him in that first quarter as there was space and generosity aplenty in the Daggers’ (go on, say it while you can, the Daggers’) defence.  Surely our stellar cast of model pros, respected journeymen, Premiership loanees and ex-Championship bad boys can deal with this hapless bunch.  Indeed the Daggers defence puts one on a plate for Sutton – the centre-back ducking under the ball in an “after you” moment - only to see the big man loop it tamely into Tony Roberts’ grateful arms.  And the ball seems always to fall to one of our midfielders – Doherty and Holt in particular seeing plenty of the ball.  
    
But Bullock and Martin are making minimal headway down the right, suggesting that “Gollum” is as short on confidence as he is on match practice.  In one pleasing but apparently accidental moment he finds himself at the byeline but the cross disappoints – a touch of vertigo, maybe.  And the half drifts further into aimlessness the longer it goes on.  If this team gave the impression on Saturday that they could have strung crisp, effective passes together to infinity, so tonight they show glimmers of inspiration, but are always thwarted  - not on the same wavelength, the pass just misdirected, or the run mistimed – and most tellingly, the final ball just isn’t there.  Even Beardy Tom looks weighed down, probably by eric plant’s post Chesterfield hyperbole.  
    
But still, the Daggers haven’t threatened us.  Oh, hang on.  Big Leon, who’s made two mistakes all season, makes two in a minute.  He slips and allows Strevens a run in on goal.  A corner results, as Fielding tips the shot wide.  But from the corner the ball is struck back into the box and strikes Leon on the arm.  The ref pauses a moment – ball to hand, or hand to ball? - then points at the spot.  
Rainford, whose only previous function seems to have been to kick Doherty, tucks the penalty away without fuss. 
    
This sours the half-time mood.  Dream up a challenge for Bodger? “How about he tries supporting Marlow for a season?” mutters my usually affable companion.  But surely we can’t lose to this lot? 
    
The second half starts tamely and dismally for poor Bullock, who tries to take on Griffiths, the excellent Daggers’ (sod you and your lefty friends Brian, I said the DAGGERS’ …) left back.  Griffiths has excellent East End credentials: looks like a bovver boy and has his Nan’s “they shall not pass” attitude.  For every attempt  by Bullock to take him on, he emerges with the ball and launches Dagenham forward.  Cruelly baited by the crowd, Bullock is withdrawn to cries of “gerrrimoffffffff” from the sympathetic voices in the Valley.  
    
Perhaps sensing the lack of entertainment on offer, John Still generously brings on Alan Biley to put in a shift up front.  It’s some hair cut, to be sure.  
    
But things are starting to look up.  Little Leon has replaced Bullock and looks distinctly lively.  We’ve lost a bit of shape, but we’re having a go now.  On 70 minutes Knight guides a shot goalward but too close to Roberts in the Daggers’ goal.  We’re having the vast majority of the pressure and the possession, but there’s still space for Doherty to send a back pass across his goal to one of the Daggers’ front men.  Thankfully it’s not Shevchenko this time, but even so, I swear I see Doherty’s lips through the facial hair cursing eric plant.  
    
The players squander opportunities like their paymasters squander cash.  In rapid succession, Sutton and Knight combine as the latter sends a cross flashing across the six-yard box, but McGleish fails to get a toe on it.  The Doc then gets to the byeline only to see his cross cleared.  All this pressure must surely get us a goal.  We end up playing a 3-2-5 formation which I haven’t seen since I played for the cubs and Doherty gets tetchy with one of the Daggers’ lads, just to use up some time.
    
The game peters out and we troop out, despondent, as the opposition players celebrate on the pitch.  Like we celebrated at Maine Road and the Memorial Ground, I guess.  A gaggle of their fans in the car park are singing out their delight at an unexpected win.  
    
That nickname? The 'Bridge Boys? The Motors? No.  The Spoilers sounds better.  A fair jibe at a game plan to strangle the life out of the game and steal it? Or a noble East End name in the tradition of Cable Street and living through the Blitz – making the best of the little you’ve got?  Oh … and it has the added benefit of being something they like to tart up their cars with.   
    
A bad night.  But the Milkmen had better watch out Saturday. 
      ]]></description><pubDate>Thu, 31 Jan 2008 09:42:36 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/spoilt-rotten-/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/match-reports-0708/spoilt-rotten-/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[I Can Hear Your Heart]]></title><description><![CDATA[So Jonny Dixon has signed for Brighton from Aldershot, one of what must be nearly 100,000 WWFC youth products who, after being deemed not good enough by men in stained tracksuits at Adams Park, have made the grade elsewhere.     

It’s not like the sane Wycombe fans (dwindling but handsome) could not see that Dixon was good enough. His debut spell was the one bright spot in the grim latter days of Len Sanchez, but manager after manager, from the Moaning Mexican to Lambert, via Adams and Scotch John, refused to give him the chance he deserved.     

It seems the affluent nature of south Bucks grips every single manager at Wycombe and they hate to see their team made up of home grown talent from the vegetable patch. Instead they want a whip round Waitrose and even if it’s Drewe Broughton, John Sutton, Gavin Holligan or Drew Carey, as long as they come from outside the club then everything’s ok. The manager’s done his job.     

China-hating coach Richard Hill once remarked that as long as he had a hole in his arse, Martin Rowlands would not make a professional footballer. It was the second biggest mistake of his career. I feel much more confident in saying that as long as I defecate proudly in the bushes and hedges of Long Crendon, Wycombe will never give youth a chance.     

And if anyone thinks of muttering “Roger Johnson” in the club’s defence, please go and mop up Lewis Christon’s tears first. He’s over by the statue of Anthony Clark, weeping like a hen.     
]]></description><pubDate>Wed, 30 Jan 2008 23:54:29 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/tucker-chump/i-can-hear-your-heart/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/tucker-chump/i-can-hear-your-heart/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Big Blind]]></title><description><![CDATA[  
Louise Wener  
    
A long time ago in a Galaxy Far, Far away (okay it was this one and only about 11-12 years ago), inside the covers of NME magazine the cold war was being recreated between Blur and Oasis, deep inside that whole Indie/Brit Pop scene was a band lead by an angel sent down from the heavens, whilst the others bands around the time abused each other she sang about having sex and urban myths to do with the Apollo 11 moon landing, the band were called Sleeper, and her name was Louise Wener. 
    
For many of us students who had an A1 poster of the band on our wall at university and regularly banged one off the wrist to her shapely figure, it’s always been one of those burning questions “what ever happened to Louise Wener?” Well the answer is fairly simple, she became a fictional writer and is currently working on her fourth book.
    
I decided to plunge in and break my Wener virginity (if only) with her second book; named “The Big Blind” this is based around Poker*.  
    
The story is written in the first person and centred on Audrey Unger; we join her life as she’s fast approaching her 33rd birthday, having dreams about threesomes with Bono and The Edge from U2. It’s obvious something is missing in her life, her mother is now deceased and her father left them when she was nine years old. It’s not too difficult to work out what she is looking for is her father. 
    
The characterisation is simply brilliant, you really get immersed into Audrey’s life, her childhood is very sad, the circumstances around which her father left her, the bullying from her twin step brothers, her brilliant Mathematical brain earning a GCSE aged just fourteen to when she rebels against the system and subsequent arrest. Her quick-witted current day demeanour is very funny, and her mannerisms actually remind me of an ex-girlfriend to the point where I start to fancy the character in the book (this probably speaks more about me however). Audrey ends up by chance in the flat of an morbidly obese American suffering from Agoraphobia and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder named Big Louie, the outcome being he has not left his home for nearly twenty years.
    
Audrey’s father was a gambler; Big Louie is a card player of some repute. Since Louie was left this London flat after his wife died he’s made his money from a mixture of poker tuition, winning his home games and the Internet. On learning about Big Louie’s background Audrey sets out to use Louie to learn the game as a way of trying to track down her father.
    
Wener’s style is superb, the scene setting really immerses you in the book, and the dialogue is as times laugh out loud funny. I got stuck in the middle of nowhere on a business trip and basically read this in a couple of days, I literally couldn’t put it down the only bad thing I’d say was the final poker scene, but it’s a pet hate with all poker movies, books, television scenes where suddenly values bet are moved away from table stakes. That said it doesn’t detract from what is a very amusing, feel good book. I heartily recommend it to anyone especially anyone looking for something in the poker genre.
    

    NB* There is one particular member of the SMBU writing team who will be tutting and looking away at not only my choice in novel but my love of the game. In a way it’s because of his disapproving eye that I chose this particular book. This review’s for you buddy!    
    ]]></description><pubDate>Tue, 29 Jan 2008 09:15:47 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/petrol-ronnies-literary-review/the-big-blind/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/petrol-ronnies-literary-review/the-big-blind/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Waving Flags]]></title><description><![CDATA[And the rain came in our butcher’s shop washing the blood out of the bone trays. And we haven’t been saying much recently, just been doing three days a week at the Meat Clinic, devoting the rest of our time to the Meat Cellar in Fife, north of the border.     

Thing is, SMBU’s on a firm footing due to massive investment in 2007, Tucker Chump (that’s me) has got time to put his feet on the counter and slice up the stats. We’ve got women in libraries in Iran reading, the Vladikavkaz industrial massive are eager to learn more about the inimitable Chairboys and Canada is going wild, literally. They’re dancing in the streets of Fort St John every time Ron Waller speaks.     

We’ve got our knockers, mainly OAPs in Oxfordshire who say “you can’t run a Scottish butchers and one in Buckinghamshire, it can’t be done.” But they know nothing. You can keep a lamb shank cooking all the way from Fife to Brill Hill and it still falls off the bone like a clown’s fingertips on the high wire.     

Can anything stop us as we steam into 2008 like a bullish bull on red bull? Well yes, people at Wycombe games are increasingly buying their snacks from vendors inside the ground like good little boys and girls. Only two years ago the Meat Clinic had 87% coverage of any sandwich eaten in a seven mile radius of the groundsman’s flat at Adams Park. That figure has fallen to 56% in the last few weeks and the outlook is bleak.     

Down our way they’re calling it the credit munch crunch hunch.     

So if nothing else, can we urge you to visit your local Meat Clinic before tomorrow’s game with Chesterfield and select from a range of delicious cold cuts and bone weaves. Wrap them inside a polish rye and wave them in the air every time Wycombe score. Let’s get this show back on the road.     
]]></description><pubDate>Fri, 25 Jan 2008 16:47:37 +0000</pubDate><link>http://www.smbu.co.uk/tucker-chump/waving-flags/</link><guid>http://www.smbu.co.uk/tucker-chump/waving-flags/</guid></item><item><title><![CDATA[Tony Crow Interview]]></title><description><![CDATA[  Jimmy Saville, Larry Levan, Frankie Knuckles, John Peel, Francis Grasso, Kenny Everett, DJ Kool Herc… pioneering DJs one and all but not one of them could read out a teamsheet and welcome visiting dignitaries like Tony Crow. For 10 years he twiddled the knobs on the Adams Park sound system and now for the first time since hanging up the microphone the man behind the voice speaks exclusively to SMBU.
  

  

  So first things first, how, when, and maybe even why, did you become a Wycombe fan?   
  
  I was at school in the early 70s when Bryn Lee joined. We discovered that his dad was manager of WWFC. That's when I first started taking an interest in them although I didn't actively follow them until I gave up mobile DJing in England in 1995, when I could go to matches. I do remember though being gutted that my dad and brother went to Bournemouth in the 70s whilst I had to stay in Flackwell Heath as a Saturday boy in Budgen's.
  
    What has been your most memorable moment in supporting Wycombe?   
  
  Two really, one as a fan and one as PA. 
  
  I was at Leicester for the FA Cup Quarter Final. As I wasn't a season ticket holder, I couldn't get a ticket for the match but Hutch arranged that I could stand in the wooden gantry with Sky and their camera crews. I was inches away from their main cameras and Martin Tyler and Alan Brazil commentating. Before the match, I was told that if Wycombe scored, I had to be quiet and not jump around in case I rocked the cameras. When Roy Essandoh scored, like most people, I was beside myself and it took all my will-power to obey their instructions. It gave Alan Brazil a good laugh though as he was watching me trying not to implode at the time.
  
  As PA, the highlight happened within weeks of me starting. Hutch was manager for Dave Carroll's Testimonial in November 1997 so I was left to do all the PA work on the night. It was fantastic reading out the teamsheets for both halves. I'll hopefully never forget "and changing sides for the second half, .... Steve Guppy".
  
    …and the worst?   
  
  Without a shadow of a doubt, it was the final game of the season against the scum ColU after the FA Cup run. I had prepared the FA Cup songs to play every 15 minutes leading up to the game. I had the two versions of the Quarter Final win and the Semi-Final "Proud" song. I'd also made a new one with both games featured. We were going to ram it down their throat that we had got to the Semi-Final. I got to the ground and Hutch came up to tell me that the PA system had failed on the Friday and they hadn't been able to mend it in time for the game. I was devastated. If you remember, I ended up walking around the ground with a megafone at half-time. What a disaster.
  
  Another memorable one was when the scum scored in about the seventh minute of extra time to equalize. There was only supposed to be three. I was in a foul mood all weekend after that. Sanch told me not to stop the clock at 90 mins after that game so that we could see how many minutes we had really played. That earnt me the first of my two letters from the Football League warning me not to leave the clock running.
  
    How did you get into the job?   
  
  I went to the Vere Suite before a Tuesday evening match and a mate (Eddy Belsham) told me that there was a job for me advertised in the programme. I worked with Andy Reston in the 80s at Equity & Law and I was always dead jealous that he was the WWFC PA. So, I applied the next day with my "International DJ" CV. I was asked to the next home match to see the gear then started the following match against Bristol Rovers in October 1997.
  
    Why did you decide finish?   
  
  They banned smoking!
  
  No, the management decided to change things this season and bring in a new team, which is their prerogative. I decided that perhaps it would be better if I leave them to it as it was obvious that I was going to be less involved than before. 
  
  I'd not missed a single home match, be it first team, FA Youth Cup, evening Reserves, B&B, etc. in 10 years, which is something I don't think many other employees can say, so I decided to quit whilst I was ahead.
  
    Which WWFC director had the best taste in music? Is it true Alan Parry asked you to play Aga-doo at corners?   
  
  In 10 years, I had one chat with the Chairman early on. In the rest of the time, I was never told to play anything specific except for the Team Out, Goals and Corners music. I was the DJ. It was my job to decide what to play. I didn't tell the manager how to pick the team or the Directors how to run the club so they didn't tell me how to play music. Hutch was exceptionally good about that. 
  
  Whenever a new manager or CEO came along, they asked him what happened with the PA on match days. He always told them not to worry about that because Tony looked after that side of things.
  
  So, I have no idea about Directors' taste in music and AP certainly did not ask me about anything other than the Team Out music.
  
    Favourite album of all time?   
  
  As a DJ, you don't buy albums unless you think there will be several dancefloor fillers on it. I spent up to £150 a month on singles/12"s/CDs and rarely bought an album for myself since 1978 when I started mobile DJing. 
  
  In my teenage years, I was into MAN, Quo, Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, Alice Cooper, Led Zep and so on. I used to be bored rigid going to parties as all they played was namby-pamby disco music for what we used to call the "suede heads". It was one of the reasons that I started DJing. It seemed better to me to be behind the disco rather than in front. 
  
  Obviously, my taste in music changed to "what fills a dancefloor" rather than what was a good record. I remember doing a Christmas Party in a Heathrow hotel in 1994, I think. This girl came up to me and asked why I was playing "this crap". I pointed her to the room where everyone-else was up and dancing on the dance floor, carpets, tables, everywhere to Boney M's Rivers of Babylon. "That's what I'm paid for. Who cares how good the record is?".
  
  When I first came to WWFC, people moaned that I played too much disco so I started playing indie music (or whatever it's called nowadays) more. By the end, I was probably playing more of that between 1:30 and 2:30 than disco.
  
  If I was really pushed, my favourite album as a teenager was Status Quo's Hello. I still rate Reason for Living as one of my favourite tracks.
  
    If Wycombe Wanderers were a band, who would they be?   
  
  Not sure. As I said, I'm not really into bands, more individual tracks.
  
    You've been fairly critical of the Trusts' recent inactivity. What are your feelings on the proposed merger and even the state of the club in general?   
  
  I believe that the Trusts were set up for completely different reasons. 
  
  One was to protect the rights of the original members, the other to be in a position to rescue the club if it ever needed it. Instead of keeping to their original briefs, they both appear to want to be involved in everything the club does. I don't think that either of the two were set up for this reason. 
  
  The Founders' Trust should be heavily involved in looking at the club's proposals to move ground and little else. 
  
  The Supporters' Trust should be raising money like mad to take over if any of the Directors die or remove their financial support as I can't see anyone-else doing this. 
  Neither of the Trusts need to be involved in day-to-day decisions to achieve their aims. The Directors can't tell the Trust what they hear in the boardroom so where has it got us? 
  
  Ooh look, we played a match on a Friday because the fans wanted it. Whoopee. Oh, we haven't sold Adams Park because the Founders Trust blocked it. Now, that would be a result.
  
  I am on record as saying that I was staggered that members of the board that got the club into a serious financial position were allowed to take over the club for themselves. My view is that they've realised that the only way they will get their money back is to sell Adams Park and move to a free stadium, thereby releasing the cash to wipe out their debts.
  
  I'm not convinced that this is for the benefit of the club.
  
    How many times did you play Simply The Best in the early 1990s?     

  Hardly ever. I was a Dance DJ so it wasn't high on my play list.
  
    What did you think when Sanchez wanted drum beats played at corners?     

  Whatever people think of Sanch, he was the only manager that talked directly to me about what he wanted to hear. I met him in the team hotel in Bristol just after he took over. I was working there at the time and happened to be in the same hotel that the club used before Rovers matches, He immediately talked about the music. All the other managers made occasional comments to Hutch but Sanch was the only one who wanted to talk directly to me.
  
  Having said that, I hated the Corner music as it caused me a lot of grief.
    From my position, especially when the Hospital Radio crew were next door, I could only just see the near corner by the terrace if I leaned over the desk and almost smacked the window with my head. For evening games, it was a nightmare trying to work out in a second whether the linesman had given a corner, goal-kick or throw. People didn't half moan if I missed one.
  
  Also, he wanted the lead in drums from Apache by The Shadows. Have you ever listened to that? It's only just audible. I had to record it about three times to try and amplify it so that it could be heard in the stadium. It was years before I had the digital technology so it was all done with tape decks and a mixer. It was crap.
  
  I was so glad when Huddersfield put in an official complaint to the referee and we got a letter from the Football League telling us to stop playing it. We always thought that it was a bit ironic that Huddersfield complai