The Ginger Scrolls – Part 3 (Of Many)

We posted a week or two ago about the great scrolls found in a Canister in Norway by Robert Hamstrangler, Norway’s greatest anthropologist and hot water blower upper that told the story of Ginger Volk.

You can read Part 1 Here and Part 2 Here

Now ’tis time for Part 3……..

THE GINGER SCROLLS – THE DEPARTURE continued……

As we say “In the darkest times night follows night”. The wisest knew that such darkness and cold meant that other tribes suffered from similar tribulation. We lived with our way and them with theirs. We hope it would stay that way. It was, alas not to be.

The King of the Hup, a mighty warrior ennobled as Overath, bade blood and fury to reek vengeance upon nature itself and tear the gentle Earth apart to teach her a lesson that never more would she treat the Hup with such disdain. His rage a madness that could only be lessened by death.

He crushed the skulls of thirteen House Carls with his double headed axe and bade for the blood of others. “Tis our tithe to kill, Tis our right to life, Tis our right to blame,” he cried. The people of Hup agreed and foamed with false anger and blazed with sham rage. Strangers. To blame. To find. To punish.

“To the North, to the North. The Ghingars have wrought this upon us with their devilry and odourless magic. It is they who must be stopped. For they are seeking to capture our souls for their own evil intent. They seek to starve us and steal the sun from us – we must destroy them. Summon the other Kings from Lup, Jup, Cup and Wup – I declare Council must be opened!”

It was as if they had become a single terrible beast spoken of in our own fables but never seen, whiffed or heard. A beast of ignorant rage and no more. “To the toll booth then –who has change?” cried mighty warrior Overath. With the Lups, Cups, Jups and Wups now in unison with the Hups, they sailed in mighty force in stone clad ships, captained by the black hearted sailor birds of the Vogts tribe, half man half puffin who sought no more reward than fish for their black hearted deeds.

 

They sailed for evil intent.

We still huddled in our homes, yearning for lost sun and warmth and food did not see, hear or sense their approach. Three hundred or so ships melting from the east, slicing through our frozen waters in their stone clad vessels like a snore through dreams.

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The Ginger Scrolls – Part 2 (Of Many)

We posted a week or two ago about the great scrolls found in a Canister in Norway by Robert Hamstrangler, Norway’s greatest anthropologist and hot water blower upper that told the story of Ginger Volk.

You can read Part 1 Here

Now ’tis time for Part 2

THE GINGER SCROLLS – THE DEPARTURE continued……

 

Ours was a simple world, made good by kindness, potatoes and a lack of foot disorders.

Kindness would be shown to strangers who ventured to our Homestead. The stranger would find life so satisfying that he would stay in perpetuity. On these rare times we would learn of the times in other worlds, the rise and fall of empires far to the South, East and West –  of men of different creeds and living their lives with many more laws, too many I would wager for peace to be allowed to roam over their lands and their people.

For the outsiders, where contentment was a threat rather than a treat, the non-return of strangers, or Nonomers as they were titled, from our lands only saw a further sense of mystery wrap itself around our people.

Tales of devilry and witchery amongst we Ginghars came common to these ignorant tongues. Tales were told by their story men and women of how we would eat our own, raw flesh torn limb from limb. How we savage hearts would allow our women to lay with wolves to produce offspring half man half wolf and how these desperate creatures were used by us to mortify the souls of neighbouring peoples.
Such tales are nonsensical in construct and meaning. Our great thinkers communed closely with the Wolf King, Haan for we bordered each other’s land and it was in each other’s interest to understand each other’s lives. But as we learned, efforts to understand anothers nature were oft seen by other men as an opportunity to curse our namewith their peoples in the name of greed and ignorance.

We lived on vegetables with animal flesh barely passing our lips – only then when the wolves left us offerings at the beginning and end of the dark season to mark their return to the forests that neighboured our lands. Again this was taken as signs of sorcery and witchcraft from our eventual foes.

For we ever understood their ways. We had no good or evil only what we termed Way (author’s note – the Ghingar term used here is actually Veluxmindacimentorroulatersnttfghping – literally translated as “direction of life within our snowy lands – we consider Way to be an appropriate translation).

 

Way of life, Way of death, Way of things, Way of meaning, Way of loving – we had many Ways.

(Note; there is now a lengthy passage in the Scrolls on agricultural techniques employed by the Ghingar. The main topic is how they managed to grow so many root vegetable in such Northern climes and only having snow and ice to grow them in. Whilst this may be considered an agricultural miracle, it is not considered relevant for gingerfightback’s purposes to include these pages. For an in depth assessment of Ghingar growing techniques the reader may like to obtain a copy of “In Ice and Snow We Made Things Grow – Ghingar farming practices and rituals – by Douglas Sandwell – OUP – 956 Pages and includes pop up lettuce).

 

The Dark Stayed…….

……………………………………………..Why the Sun decreed to stay in that year nobody will ever reason. Why the famine took hold, why the fish left the sea waters and why the reindeer moved deeper into the forest, man will look askance at man and never find an answer.

When Mother Sun departed, we bade her farewell and sought her return with due speed. But she did not return at the known time, leaving us and other men to speak with hoar frost breath.

No plant or animal would grow that season. Haan led his tribe further into the Taiga for sustenance, their howling farewells bidding us safe return to summer warmth. Our left flank was exposed. We huddled in our homes for warmth and boiled snow and ice for miserly sustenance, only our stories and madrigals keeping us from mind loss and starvation.

 

The dark is upon us

But your beauty lights my soul

A bright arc fills mine eyes

You are near to me

That I know

Dance with me

Sing with me

Laugh with me

Lie with me

My love

Be among my dreams

And dart among the stars
As we say “In the darkest times night follows night”, so the wisest of us knew that darkness and the cold in our lands could only mean that other man tribes suffered from similar tribulation.

We lived with our way and they with theirs and this it should stay.

It was, alas not to be.

Part 3 to follow……….

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The Ginger Scrolls – Part 1 (Of Many)

 

Hello!

We posted a week or two ago about the great scrolls found in a Canister in Norway by Robert Hamstrangler, Norway’s greatest anthropologist and hot water blower upper that told the story of Ginger Volk.

Here is Part 1!

THE GINGER SCROLLS PART ONE – THE DEPARTURE

Note; The following translation of the Ginger Scrolls is based upon the original work of Professor Tor Legolam, Professor of Nonsense at Bergen University. The Scrolls were discovered in a canister by a man coated in reindeer spittle in October 1927.

A gerbil was also found in this canister.

In all over 1,000 pages was discovered. The Ghingar language employed 34 vowels, 212 consonants and could locate a cedilla over the letter A after it followed GH, at no less than 37 separate angles of elevation.

Gingerfightback’s editorial board has decided to concentrate on the main narrative contained in the Scrolls.

Part 1 is known as “The Departure” and concerns itself with the departure of the final few hundred Ghingars from their beloved homeland and the journey towards their new lands west and south.

 It is impossible to establish with true veracity where the Ghingars finally alighted, but using DNA tests from ginger people in Southern France and examining the contents of mummified Ghingars discovered in Southern France in the late nineteenth century it would be fair to assume that they landed in Southern France.

This is confirmed in Part 3 of the Scrolls entitled “We Landed in Southern France”. A few landed in bonny Scotland due to the accelerated melting of their lard hair boats.

Professor Legolam’s favoured textual translation method is based upon the Albensian system of translation of the ancient texts, perfected by Cardinal Pietro Albensian in the late13th century.

The basic metronomic approach to translation in this manner can be found in the “Digitales Summa Orbis” written by Albensian and his brother Ted the Knife in 1287.

 Recent studies of the Albensian techniques point to the fact that the Cardinal, or Ted the Knife were probably dyslexic and so given all this carry on what you are about to read is probably not very accurate at all and hardly worth the effort. Still now that you have read this far you may as well carry on for a bit and find out a little of the history of ginger folk.

Enjoy!

** Poetry was an intrinsic element of the Ghingar culture as they found expressing themselves in verse to be a far more effective way of communicating in the perishing cold. The poems recited in the Scrolls are an attempt by the author to reflect the mood, tenor and verve of the times. For further reading we would suggest the following;

Notes on Ginghar Poetry and Polemics – Douglas Sandwell – OUP (445 pages with some nice join the dots pictures for when you get bored and also a cut out and keep Ludo set)

The Ghingars –Battling the Cedilla – Douglas Sandwell – OUP (657 Pages with a cut out and keep ice berg and waterfall)

More Ghingars – Please Somebody Buy It! – Douglas Sandwell – OUP (1,234 Pages with a built in sleeping bag and feathery pillow).

The Ginger Scrolls Part of Part One – The Departure

Of my name there is no cause for you to know. I am nameless but not silent. For these tales must be set down, their words appropriated from the mouths of others and our tragedy told. These words will not be tethered to this script dear friend. No! They are freeborn and will fly around this earth and the great bright skies in the North will act as permanent testimony of our suffering yet passion for life untrammeled by that suffering.

Carried by the beating wings of the great Gull, Exeretheon, the Night Flyer our tales will be told and recalled for all time.

Words of passion, wisdom, hope and of love for our homeland and of our people. Words can be the heartbeat between two lovers, the blood that flows between kin or the bile that proposes enmity between men.

We, the Ghingar always value words as tools of joy and hope. We would use them to sing, tell tales and even dance amongst them on our nights of festivals, before the Sun departed us for the other realms of the great heavens where she bade other people light and sustenance.

Our words to her, warm to the touch and comforting to the feel, bade her speedy return but offered her safe passage to her new home and the peoples who would bathe in her rays and affection.

The Ghingar people. Taken from our homelands by those evil pillars of famine and fear that forced us to roam amongst mortal man and his surly ways to ensure our kin hath future enough. We shall return to our home when the stars in the heavens bid it so.

The stars are not hung in the sky by your Gods or our Gods for amusement. They are there to guide, to inspire and to allow us to dream of other worlds.

But truth, dear friend we know not when that glorious day beckons us North once more and to the comfort of the shores and the ice that we called our Home. We people are from far North, distant from your own tribulations and vapours. A world so barren and untouched by the guilt and pleasures of other men that it will remain lost to all until we return.

Hard as life was and as dark as it was, those lands, icy, cold, fearful of strangers and a little bit weird – (translation note; the original Ghingar word here is Maleanstoricbmisltistr – which literally translates as “those who do not always allow the ice to melt before they drink it” – we think that weird is a close enough approximation of that term.) – But they were our lands. Our home.

Malady for loss is something all Ghingars carry. We grieve.

For so long isolated from other groups we had learned to live in peace with each other.

A land of hope, benign gods, tuneful music and a world of smiles. That is why the outsiders gave them the name Ghingar, from the ancient Arctic Empire tongue of our kings meaning “Those who smile”.

But we are not a people to dwell in the past. Indeed our land was governed by only three laws. Not to kill. To always seek shelter from the sun. Never revisit the past with sad intention.

Only the dead were entitled to declare war upon another nation and only those given sanctuarial position were allowed to venture past the great Buttock of Truth, erected before memory began it is said, to protect our people from those with barbarous intent. No God we worshipped only the Sun, fearing its long absences in the cold winter months would hasten our demise,

“Hasten to me morning Sun

That I may bask in thy balmy rays

Hasten to me morning Sun

That I may enjoy the best of days

 

Do not leave so soon morning Sun

That I will have to endure

Darkness and the stalk of night

And deaths tainted allure”

 

Ours was a simple world, made good by kindness, potatoes and a lack of foot disorders.

Part 2 to follow……….

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The Ginger Scrolls – The History of Gingers

Ginger history is shrouded in mystery.

In the academic world argument has raged over the “Ginger Origin” question for 150 years.

There is the Derby School who cling with limpet like passion to the idea that Gingers originated in the Derbyshire Peaks, based upon the digs of the archeologist Maurice Picker in the late 19 Century.

Picker uncovered a large Stone Age encampment on the outskirts of Matlock and observed “…the overriding sense of gingeriness within the place. I for one become covered head to toe in freckles!”

Although he was barking,  Picker’s theory became established orthodoxy amongst gingerologists. His theories were only challenged in 1934 when in the Guadalajara peninsula ancient Inca papers, now known as the Popomatic Texts, were unearthed.

Translated by Herbert Sctonlicker in 1935, these papers suggest that the origin of “Ein redheadshers” actually lay in the isthmus of Central America, just north of the Panama Canal. They suggested to Sctonlicker that, “ein incidencen de ein gingermenschen eist ova da strasse from der bierkeller os Bob.”

Whilst it may seem strange that a pub run a man named Bob in Panama could in anyway have something to do with the origins of Gingers there does seem to be some veracity in Sctonlicker views.

This is because the “Bob” mentioned in the translation is non other than Robert Hamstrangler, Norway’s greatest anthropologist.

Hamstrangler had two passions in his life. Cross Country skiing and blowing up hot water bottles to prove his lung function.

In his native town of Narvik, hot water bottle blowing (or Huffty Puffty in Norwegian) remains popular to this day and a male suitor displays his worthiness to a potential mate by bursting a hot water bottle and reciting a passage from Ibsen’s Enemy of the People.

In October 1907 Hamstrangler was skiing on the outskirts of Narvik with his fiancé Marta, a heavy limbed girl from proud fishing stock and was attempting to burst his mother’s quilted bottle on the move (known as Ruffty Huffty Puffty) a dangerous manouvre at the best of times.

As he struggled with his task, Hamstrangler noticed among the rocky outcrops a small cave. He approached the opening, laid down his hot water bottle and peered inside.

The gap was no larger than 8 inches, yet inside the chamber Hamstrangler could see an aged canister. The barren landscape provided neither twig or branch to prise the canister toward him.

They say fortune is a bedfellow of grace. Despite his inability to grasp the canister, his years of hot water bottle bursting gave him the ability to suck the canister from the cave and land it with puckered force on his lips.

Inside the canister were shredded and blood splattered papers. They were in a language that neither Hamstrangler or Marta (now certain to marry the golden lunged Titan) could decipher.

The local minister Per Tart could not help, so Hamstrangler took the canister to nearby Bergen University.

Professor Tor Legolam, the University’s professor of Nonsense, recognized the texts as a cross between ancient Norse and the language of the Inca’s.

Legolam a keen friend of the Starling and campaigner against Huffty Puffty, was so shocked by what he discovered, he ordered the canister sealed and placed in Bergen University’s “Vaults of Nonsense” (or Valhalla Bollox in Norwegian).

These papers became known as the Ginger Scrolls.

Gingerfightback has been granted access to the Scrolls so that our readers (yes all 3 of you) can become aware of the true history of Gingers.

Over the next 12 years we will reveal them……….in full………

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Almanac – Your Futures Foretold – By The Mystic Milkman

I am Barry Belcher. I am a Milkman. I am Psychic. I have been predicting predictions, with little accuracy for a number of years now. Previous predictions can be read here. and here

I am up with the Lark, delivering milk – in bottles.

So, without further ado…….Milk Bottle of Mystery…….what does the future foretell?

1. June 2012 –  Germany will win the World Cup.

2. March 2015– A joint Transformers and X-Men movie will be released under the title “Transformen – Robots With Sideburns – Rise of the Pygmies”. The film will be shown in VD.

3. December 25 2014 – A cauliflower will be proclaimed King of England much to the chagrin of Prince Charles. King Cauli will prove to be a wise and benevolent leader. The House of Brassica will rule England for the next 3,000 years.

Miffed

Now it is time for messages from “THE OTHER SIDE” –

Michelle, Arizona;

Look in the biscuit tin.

Macy, Munich;

Feel your varicose veins for the answer to your conundrum!

Liang Bo in Shanghai;

Right a bit, now left a bit – THERE!

Antoinette, Enschede;

Find the man with the name Alfonse on his name tag. Fortune awaits when you do!

IF YOU KNOW ANYONE WHO MAY BENEFIT FROM HEARING THESE MESSAGES PLEASE PASS THEM ON….

I am now returning the Milk Bottle of Mystery to the Crate of Destiny.

Until next time……….

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Germany Win The World Cup – Lahm Lifts The Golden Sausage! – Ginger Sooty Reports

 

Ginger Sooty filed this from Copacabananananana Beach last night.

Hello,

Philipp Laum Lifts The Sausage Of Destiny

Germany Won The World Cup!

Philipp Laum held the FIFA Golden Banger of Destiny aloft in the Maracana last night and proclaimed, “V R der Champs Ja!”

Their win had much to do with the inventive attacking play of midfield dynamos Glock and Spiel and the extremely strong ankles of Bastein Shcweinsteiger who took a pasteing from the leery Latin layabouts of Argentina (who should have won).

The Germans wonderfully coiffed Coach, Joachim “Me Dye My Hair? – Never!” Louw can now relax and work out the final piece of his masterplan for footballing dominance – the reintroduction of the mullets.

Holland beat Brazil 3-0 in the 3rd place play off game and this probably means curtains for Brazil coach “Big” Phil and his team of wailing God botherers.

So well done to Germany.

My highlights revolve around two moments involving the Dutch team.

Firstly there was Arjen Robben’sh,”I tripped ova der Mexican’sh shaushage to earn der penlti,” incident.

 

 

And then Robin Van Persie’s dive-volley header against Spain which marked the beginning of the end of a wonderful Spanish team. This is even more extraordinary when you consider RVP had a meat pie on his head at the time.

 

Other Things You May Have Missed

Darth Vader has mad himself available for selection for Germany.

On Me Head Luke!

Sadly,  Buddha has announced his retirement from international football.

 

Benedict Cumberbatch announced that England would never win the World Cup, “Until we play 3 at the back.”

Thank God It Is Over!

 

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Football Glory – The Jersey Gingers – A Story For The World Cup

Hello!

To celebrate the forthcoming World Cup final between Germany and Argentina – here is an old old story about the relevance of sport in our lives – Glory and a willingness to Cheat to achieve Glory.

THE JERSEY GINGERS – A LONG LOST TALE OF FOOTBALL, THE NAZI’S AND MAN’S INDOMITABLE SPIRIT

The following quote is a transcript from on aged acetate recording recently found in the National Archives of the Island of Jersey (War Years – Sporting Activity File 45/7689/QGT/*).

“Dribble is away! He flies down the wing, beats one, beats two – he looks up! Tongue IS FREE! Tongue IS FREE! He must score – Tongue has scored! Tongue has scored! Mercy Me! The Gingers have won the Cup. The Gingers have won the Cup!”

He is an old man now. Worn with age and withered by arthritis. But mention of that game, of that moment in that game and a light kindles in Derek Pasty’s rheumy eyes. Once more he is the heavy limbed twenty-two year old man of his youth.

“Of course we went out to win,” says Derek tapping the top of his boiled egg, “It is in every footballer’s nature to want to win every game.” He looked me in the eye, a dribble of yoke spilling down his chin, “We were not Collaborators, just footballers. Could you cut me some soldiers please.”

Derek is recounting a long forgotten chapter in the Beautiful Game’s history and the attempts by the Government of Jersey to place a shroud over it. It is about a football team who took on the might of the evil Nazi war machine and won.

Won for themselves, for Jersey and their corrupt trainer. They were the Jersey Gingers.

The Fabled Jersey Gingers

                                                                  

Derek finished his egg and wiped his chin. From a dusty sideboard he retrieved a small battered cardboard box. Alongside the forgotten detritus of everyday life including fingers, pens, a glass case with no glasses and ageing Christmas cards, lay a Match Day programme dated June 6^th 1943. A game played between his beloved Jersey Gingers and the crack Hungarian outfit Lepidan FCSS at the famous Stades de Colombes in Paris.

It was the final of the Sportsmanship and Athleticism Amongst Aryan Occupied Nations Cup. Perhaps the most notorious football match in history.

As he flicked through the browned pages, muttering to himself of memories lost, I could sense he was once again running out at the Stadium in front of nearly thirty thousand French spectators.

“Nobody expected us to win. Hitler himself had given direct orders that Lepidan must win. That explains the use of Half Track and 88mm Howitzer up front. But they reckoned without us Gingers.”- His aged back stiffened with pride and he looked into me. “Mind you that 88mm had a hell of a shot on him.”

The Programme listed the Gingers team that day as;

Square Root (GK)

Pear Tree Fennel

Moat Dribble Pasty Drain Parsley

Dickins Tongue

“We were a match for anybody. Even the mighty Arsenal or Sunderland would have struggled to come to terms with us. Hughie Tongue. What a player. Ex Third Lanark, four foot two but feet like a cobbler’s hammer. Lovely lad too, always a smile on his tooth. Jeff Drain, strong as a dose of dysentery and as nimble as TB. Tackle, head, shoot. He had it all and he made his own clothes. Nat “Crafty” Parsley, nippy, tricky and ironic all in one stride. Sheridan Square Root in goal, proper Toff he was. Could speak Spanish you know. His wife Maude used the goal net at night to keep her perm tight. Big girl she was. Only me and Harry Moat left now. And Julio Emphysema. He was from Spain. He could speak Spanish as well.”

Hughie Tongue

 

In June 1940 the Channel Islands were occupied by the evil Nazi empire. Life on the Islands, soon became a harsh regime of spiteful labour and daily hunger as the Islanders came to terms with evil Nazism.

Food was in such short supply that some Islanders forgot how to chew.

The Gingers were the leading football team on the Channel Islands. In the pre-war years, now seen as a golden period in Island football, they had edged out their fiercest rivals The Jersey Royals in league and challenge cup competitions. This should come as no great surprise as the Royals were a team made up exclusively of potatoes and a knob or two of butter. Lovely in a salad.

The Gingers had turned their ground in Holter Street, Saint Peter, known lovingly as The Plague Pit on account of an earlier use, into what we call today a Fortress.

The Plague Pit

 

Such was their dominance that there was talk of the Gingers joining the French League, “French fancy dans we called ‘em, all flicks and shrugs and improvised modern dance when a goal was scored. Not our sort at all. Proper la-di-da.” commented Pasty tartly.

“We really thought that we were in with a chance of joining England’s Division 3 South in 1939. Lyme Regis Bucolics had left the Football League due to a rickets outbreak in their squad. But as with so many things at the time the war put a stop to any of those ideas.”

The Gingers (so named because of their kit of orange shirts to humour the Club’s founder Johann De Kuyper an eccentric wool merchant from The Hague) took part in various inter-island knock out competitions and dominated with a wilful, wistful ease. “It helped that we were the only team with goal posts, although the nets were stolen by Maude.  The posts bamboozled a lot of our opponents and no mistake.”

The dominance of the Gingers owed much to the quality of their players but also for the tactics they adopted. Known as “Boot and Chop” the Ginger’s game plan was simple.

Kick the opposition in the testicles at every available opportunity and bribe others with the promise of pork chops from Percy Dribble’s butcher’s. These tactics led to a record in the 1940/41 Season of;

P. 24 W.24 L.0 Goals for 46 Goals against 3 Pts 48

The most successful league campaign by any team on the British Isles ever.

Pasty remains a staunch defender of his team’s abilities “If the war hadn’t come I am convinced that we could have played in the league. Numerous scouts caught the ferry from Weymouth to watch us play. Everton, Wolverhampton, they all came to see the boys play. If only…..”

Such success inevitably drew the notice of other, darker forces.

The Sportsmanship and Athleticism Amongst Aryan Occupied Nations Cup has a dark history. Borne out the evil mind of evil Doctor Goebbels assistant Herman Beckanbauer as a means of displaying unity amongst the Greater Reich, the cup gained traction amongst the upper echelons of Nazi High Command. Teams were selected from each of the occupied lands and a simple knock out cup plan was determined on the strict proviso the Lepidan FCSS won.

Pocket – Hero or Villain?

The entry of the Gingers was first mooted by Major Fritz Dumpkoff, Camp commandant of one of Jersey’s Stalags, stamp collector and inspiration for haughty German officers in war films. Dumpkoff, in his time a tricky left winger (a term banned in the Third Reich to be replaced with the word Aussenaussenderscneiderbooter – which translates as “wide player not on the right but on the opposite side of the pitch”) took to watching the Gingers home matches and became a firm supporter. He even penned a club song.

“When our jackboots stamped upon your throats

With our knives piercing your guts

Little did we know that now

You Gingers are our boys!”

It was Dumpkoff who approached Gingers coach, Stan Pocket, an avuncular abattoir owner, after the perennial mauling of Sark Casuals 7 – 0 in November 1942.

“He was a very tall man if I recall. Cocksure. I remember him watching us wash in the showers, a leer on his face. He turned to Stan and whispered something in his ear. Stan looked a little taken aback, he always did when you asked him something, but then a smile spread over his lips. He laughed out loud and then shook the Major’s clawed hand saying, “I will see what I can do Major”. They walked out together with Dumpkoff occasionally peering over his shoulder at us as we dried ourselves down on the nice towels he had provided us with.”

It was only at Pocket’s trial at Weymouth Assizes in 1947 that the full extent of the plan they hatched was revealed. In return for entering the Gingers in the Cup, Pocket would be allowed to smuggle as much contraband as he could find on his travels with Dumpkoff receiving a cut. During the cup run, an amazing treasure trove was smuggled by Pocket and his cronies into the Island. Meat, vegetables, bread, milk, nail clippers, jumpers, cod, clogs, tortoises and thousands of mirrors all sold on the island’s thriving black economy to desperate people starved of essential foodstuffs and a touch of vanity.

“We never knew about this plan,” argues Pasty, “All we wanted to do was represent the Island and show that we could play football with the best.” He refused to answer questions about the thirty or so mirrors that adorned his hallway.

Older islanders remain tight lipped about this time and it does appear that much of Pocket’s smuggling was aimed at placating opposition to his team’s forays into occupied Europe. “It is amazing what people will do for a piece of liver,” said Pasty.

The Ginger’s campaign began with a 2-0 victory (goals from Tongue and Dribble) over Eindhoven Quisling at the Plague Pit one bitter January afternoon.

This was followed by a hard fought away victory at Oslo 5^th Column Wednesday by a single goal (scored by the prolific Tongue) in icy conditions. That winter saw the people of Jersey dressed in the finest woollen jumpers and also gorging themselves on salted cod from Norway’s verdant fishing grounds. Although those that had forgotten how to chew gleaned less satisfaction from the cod.

It was now March, daffodils spawned a shimmering golden carpet throughout the Island. The island folk awoke to the possibility of sporting glory visiting them.

The 3rd round beckoned and the draw pitted the Gingers against the reigning cup holders Brussels Blue Shirts, the legendary Flying Flem. The Flem were arguably the greatest pre-war team in Europe and boasted a full array of internationals in their team. They were bankrolled by the Belgian Government’s ill gotten gains from the Congo and could count on Belgian Royalty amongst their legion of fans.

Nobody gave the Gingers much hope, after all the Flem boasted a front line of Maginot, Verdun and they quicksilver winger Franco (a naturalised Belgian of Spanish descent.) whose dancing feet earned him the nickname of The Cantilevered Catalan.

“We knew we had little chance. Pocket introduced a tactical variation to Boot and Chop. The Salient. Basically get round the back of Maginot and Verdun and we would neutralise their attacking prowess. Stan was adopting the Belgian’s own offensive tactics and using it against them!”

Tongue again scored, rifling home Parsley’s through pass in the 41st minute and then a fearless rear guard action led by Tree and Fennel limited the opportunities for the crafty Belgians. Then at Pocket’s signal, the team completely switched formation – attackers became defenders and vice versa . Thus the Gingers managed to get behind the Maginot Line for the remainder of the game with victory sealed by Tree’s injury time winner after a dazzling dribble and cross by Pear.

The Gingers had made the Semi-finals due to arguably the most significant innovation in football since the advent of the bladder in the ball.

“We knew we could win. Had faith in ourselves and in Tom’s tactical nous. The trip home was a joy. Lot’s of beer. And combs! When we arrived home there were crowds on the jetty to meet our fishing smack. We were carried shoulder high through the streets of St Peter to Mr Pocket’s abattoir. There was a right to-do that evening!”

Pocket’s Abattoir Today

 

“Remarkable man Mr Pocket,” recalls Pasty, “Evil, corrupt, drank liniment for fun and chased every woman on the island. But he loved football and that made everything he did, however evil, justifiable in his eyes.”

A Slaughterhouse man from Jersey had invented the game’s greatest defensive structure, yet Pocket never received recognition for his achievements. In his only interview about those times he told the Leicester Mercury in 1956 “It is all about football. Just the game. It brings Joy, Happiness and the ability for limitless personal gain.”

Pocket died in 1966 the day before England, using a variation on his tactics, won the World Cup. The bribery of officials at the Final would have brought a smile to his face.

With the people of the Island now behind them the Gingers easily swept aside the Sudetenland Anschluss 2-0 at the Plague Pit (Tongue again among the scorers). Pasty recalls the game as a “drab, dull affair only enlightened by Square Root’s penalty save in the 75^th minute from Anschluss’ star player Jiri Jawa.

A miracle had occurred. The Gingers had reached the final.

Howitzer – The German Centre Forward

 

June 6^th 1943. Stade de Colombes Paris. The Jersey Gingers versus the mighty Lepidan FCSS. Lepidan had swept all before them in the previous rounds with ruthless Teutonic efficiency. “We didn’t have a chance really. It was a complete mismatch. They had the best players in the world at the time and if they didn’t win, then their tactics were simple. Invade.”

Indeed if we look at the Lepidan team that took the field in Paris that day we can see what Pasty means.

Scharnhorst (GK)

Arbeit Macht Frei

Stuka Graf-Spee Luther Siemens Nietsche

Howitzer Half-Track

Despite protests from Pocket before the match, Howitzer was allowed to play, “Lack of mobility but what a shot, even from twelve miles,” Pasty recalls, “Graf Spee scuttling in the middle, a proper pocket battleship of a player and the sublime Siemens supplied the ammunition for the front pair. Stuka’s aerial threat. They were an awesome team. Unbeatable in most people’s eyes.”

Except for one man. Pocket. “Stan told us before the game that we could win. We had to win. For Jersey and for ourselves. No matter what history would write about us we had a moment in which to live free of oppression and the right to call ourselves free men. Holler to the world that Jersey Gingers would never bend to the jackboot of tyranny!”

It later transpired that Pocket also secured several tons of onions and two hundred pairs of socks to smuggle back to Jersey and needed the adulation on the pier to affect his dastardly plan.

Graf Spee – The German Pocket Battleship Midfielder

The game itself was a minor miracle. The Bulgarian referee Marko Payov, a man with pederast tendencies, had been instructed by the evil Nazi’s to make sure Lepidan won. But subtly. For the first 20 minutes he allowed a barbaric assault on the Gingers attacking players by the notorious defensive line of Arbeit, Macht and Frei. Tongue lost the use of his left leg after one particularly sickening aerial assault from Stuka and there were fears that the Gingers may not have been able to complete the game.

But a strange thing happened. After twenty five minutes, a white dove appeared over the ground. The sun’s rays dappled its plumage and it fluttered over the prone Tongue as he received treatment for a head wound after an off the ball clash with Graf Spee. Was it a sign? From God?

No. But it proved to be pivotal.

Pierre Bossu was a six year old boy at the time and had been given time off from his slave duties to attend the match and cheer on Lepidan. Now a successful orthodontist, Pierre recalls the moment, “The dove. Beautiful. It filled our hearts with joy and hope. These poor lads being pounded by the Germans. But they wouldn’t give up. They kept getting up and playing. And the more it went on, the more our hearts, previously cold to them, reached out and embraced them as our own. They were fighting for us.”

It was a low murmur at first. From the popular end I recall “Allez Les Rouge” but it spread like a winter cold virus around the ground until we were all chanting as one “Allez Les Rouge, Allez Les Rouge!” 30,000 of us for the first time in years free to express ourselves in our beloved land.”

We return to the Acetate recording, “Punted out by Square Root…..picked up by Nietzsche …..He is tackled by Pasty. Through to Drain. Parsley. He’s running now, dummies Frei…To Tongue. He’s scored! Tongue has scored! One to nothing the Gingers! By Jove!”

One to nothing at half time.

Howitzer levelled after 56 minutes with a speculative shot from three miles.

Lepidan laid siege to the Gingers goal for the next 20 minutes.

Pasty continued,“Wave after wave of attack, relentless stuff. Graf Spee was controlling the centre and they pushed Panzer into attack. God knows how we hung on. And then the moment that changed our lives.

We return to the Acetate recording;

“Marvellous clearance by Square Root there, by Jove he is playing well. But it is picked up by Siemens – on to Half Track on the right. He crosses diagonally. Mistake by Pear. The ball just bobbled over his foot. Oh No! Howitzer is in on goal – Root is out to meet him. Sweet Lord Above. The ball has crossed the line. No, no wait a moment that is not the ball….. it is Square Root’s head! The ball has gone out for a corner! Square Root has lost his head but kept the Gingers in the game. Good lad.”

Was this the single greatest act of bravery ever witnessed on the field of dreams? Pasty certainly thinks so, “Howitzer was in, Rooty threw himself at the barrel and his head came clean off. That was his speciality, unorthodox saves. That one certainly was. I saved his cap as a souvenir. It had his ear in it.”

Call it fate or sublime good luck, but Sheridan Square Root’s sacrifice for his team mates changed the nature of the game. As Root’s torso was carried from the pitch, an even mightier roar of “Allez Les Rouge” rolled around the ground.

Pasty went in goals. The Gingers began to play like men possessed. Power, passion and no little skill filled their legs and hearts. The dove returned and played out the remaining minutes of the match as a makeshift midfield player (with minimal effect it must be said). And then that moment in the 88^th minute.

“Dribble is away! He flies down the wing, beats one, beats two – he looks up! Tongue IS FREE! Tongue IS FREE! He must score – Tongue has scored! Tongue has scored! Mercy Me! The Gingers have won the Cup. The Gingers have won the Cup!”

Cup Winners!

There was no crowd on the dock to meet them when they returned from Paris the following day. No adulation from the people of Jersey. Dumpkoff left the Island the following morning and official German war records note his death during the Battle for Berlin in 1945. Inside his tunic was found a fluffy towel.

A number of the Gingers were arrested and deported to labour camps across Europe. Among them the star of the team, Hughie Tongue whose goals and impish Scottish jinkery had done so much to carry his team-mates to glory. He was never heard of again. Fennel and Pear escaped to England and joined the war, both dying on the beaches of Normandy exactly a year after the final. Jeff Drain developed a successful career as a painter and decorator.

And as for Pasty? He married Maude in the spring of 1946. Her wedding dress was made from the original nets the Gingers had used in their goals. They remain a devoted couple. Square Root’s ear was best man.

Pasty was asleep when I left his house, chomping on a bread soldier he had left. The spread was a cheap brand of margarine which I found lacked taste. I felt a pang of regret that his extraordinary story had lain hidden for so long, like sediment at the bottom of a still, dead lake.

Those names Square Root, Tongue, Parsley et al all deserve to be remembered as more than Collaborators. For the Jersey Gingers pulled off one of the greatest victories in the history of football. And they dared to hope. And for that their achievements should never fade.

 

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World Cup Update – The Sausage Of Doom – Ginger Sooty Reports

 

Ginger Sooty filed this from Copacabananananana Beach last night.

Hello,

The Sausage of Destiny with Big Phil

 

As you will know Brazil are out!

Their coach “Big” Phil  blames the magical sausage he put so much faith in pre-tournament.

Nothing to do with the fact that the team spent their time wailing and gnashing their teeth like a cult of poorly coiffured neurotic evangelical Christians who thought the direct route to God could be achieved by kicking the shite out of their opponents.

David Luiz, their louche centre back even prayed to Big Phil’s banger of destiny – to no avail .

Such is the shock in Brazil that yesterday temperatures rose by 2 degrees Celsius in central Rio de Janeiro as the city’s populace becalmed their buttocks in shock at the thrashing handed out by the Raiders from the Rhine. Sashaying will resume Sunday by Government decree.

The football has become increasingly sterile and apart from the collapse of Brazil against the Teutonic Titans nothing of any merit has occurred.

Even that cheating, diving bashtard Arjen Robben of the Netherlandsh couldn’t enliven the bore fesht that was der shemi final with Argnteenar. There were hopesh he would replicate der now infamoush “I tripped ova der Mexican’sh shaushage to earn der penlti,” incident.

Sadly not and the Argentinians went through.

Pope Argie celebrated by blessing his fence.

Other Things You May Have Missed

The Costa Rica team have been offered free Trans Gender surgery as a gift from a grateful nation for reaching the quarter finals. As yet none of the players have taken up this offer.

Chile forward Sancho Pancho Poncho Panpipe Parper was awarded a special medal by FIFA for over coming a dry scalp during the match against Brazil.

Pogues legend Shane  McGowan announced his retirement from international football.

Gollum has announced his retirement from international football.

Benedict Cumberbatch announced he would be available for selection for England once again after patching up things with England manager Roy “Watson” Hodgson. Benedict told Gfb, “I need to play off the main striker and not wide left. That way the lads’ll get the best out of me.”

Enjoy the World Cup – nearly finished

 

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World Cup Famous Scenes – Did The Chicken Cross The Line In 1966?

Hello!

With the World Cup in full swing and with too many matches on TV to allow me to write anything new here is another famous scene from World Cups of yore.

1966 was a great year to be British. Dentistry had been bought in from the cold. Roofs were becoming commonplace and plugs of all varieties were no longer in short supply!

Brown and Bitter was a staple drink of the working classes and not a comment on inner city racial tensions.

On July 37th 1966 England won the World Cup for footballing.

Yet it was a game not without controversy!

The Queen is caught stealing fried onions from the burger bar at half-time but The Establishment cover up her chronic kleptomania.

But there is one moment that still counts as one of the great talking moments in a game of many moments.

Did the chicken cross the line?

This image that proves conclusively nothing at all.

 

England claim success. The referee is unsure. He confers with the Georgian linesman. With a firm nod of his head Dimitri Yashmilli-Vanilli confirms a goal has been scored.

England go on to win the greatest prize in world football. In West Germany there is outrage. So angry are the Germans that they take revenge by developing a sustainable industrial base.

 THE BASTARDS!

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World Cup 2014! Brazil! Prince Charles’ View Of The Competing Nations – Part 4

The World Cup Is Here!

Brazil is hosting the tournament.

Prince Charles provides his rounded view of the 32 Nations taking part. Here is his take on the final two Groups (Thank God) G and H.

Group G

Germany – Leiderhosen laden, oompa loompaing, thigh slapping titanic Teutons – massively hammed to a man – made a few mistakes in the past but who hasn’t? I’d slip Angela Merkel a length! Still have relatives there.

Portugal – Port swilling Latin layabouts obsessed with sardines and hair styling products -World centre for dandruff research.

Ghana – Ex colony (weren’t they all? sigh) – people smile a lot and wear clothes so bright their jumpers are visible from Saturn – cheap place to buy sandals but sadly not brogues for one.

USA – Ex colony – they have a penchant for shooting each other indiscriminately yet keep to a strict oral hygiene regime – invent their own games involving shoulder pads to make sure they win them.  Saved our bacon in WW2 when they finally got their arses into gear! Never forgiven Travolta for dancing with Dia*a all them years ago – no wonder he turned to Scientology (she was barking by the way – in case you weren’t sure).

Group H

Belgium – Mussels, chips and getting invaded a lot – Belgium!

Algeria – Cous-cous chomping nihilists who kicked the Frogs out decades ago – up yer arse De Gaulle! –  not  a fan of cous cous – the bits get stuck in one’s teeth.

Russia – Light hearted libertines with a soft spot for totalitarianism and gay rights – their idea of fun is amoebic dysentery – they burn puppies in the winter to keep warm – the rich ones have bought London.

Korea – Workaholic loons – bastards stole our ship building industry – trapped wind archery is the national sport (use your imaginations – does not make an appealing spectacle).

ENJOY THE COMPETITION!

TTFN

Charlie

 

 

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