April 8th: Turtles 1(1) vs Stop Out Red 4(3)
Match Report by Stevie 'Wolfman' Hambleton

The year was 2006. Early April. The Hutt Valley leader, Napoleon, was convinced that his fleet could beat the invaders from the South and go on to dominate all of Wellington. In the week before the battle, he wrote to his admirals “Come to Trafalgar. Bring our united fleet and Wellington will be ours. In only 90 minutes, all will be over, and six decades of shame and insult will be avenged. I count for nothing the loss of ships, provided they are lost with glory.” Admiral Villeneuve was charged with commanding the Stop Out Fleet, while Napoleon stayed back in Wainui and shagged Josephine. Villeneuve was a vastly experienced commander, and looked forward to locking horns with the commander of the Wellington fleet, one Horatio Viscount Snout.

Snouter, as he was known by his men, was a large, one-armed man, blind in one eye and shabbily dressed, but his appearance concealed a tactical genius unsurpassed in modern warfare. With limited resources, he had moulded a superior fighting machine that was strengthened annually with new recruits from the backstreets of Karori and Island Bay. (‘Press gangs’ raided quiet suburban homes, and literarily whipped the newly commissioned sailors into submission).

The day dawned clear and bright as the two fleets gathered. The Wellington force were in good spirits as they left shore to head north, but within minutes a strong northerly blew up – this would test the seamanship of the northern forces, who were used to calmer waters. HMS Law led the way down the gorge and out to open sea. However, her mast was creaking so loudly that her captain missed the turn and had to take a long route to the battle site, further tiring the men who sailed in her.

As the opposing fleets gathered at Trafalgar, it soon became clear that two of Snouter’s key ships were missing. The good ships HMS Telboy and HMS Gordie had either been detained elsewhere, or perhaps scuppered by marauding locals on their way to the battle site. Snout’s last encouraging message to his fleet captains was a text message: “Wellington would really appreciate it if every man did his duty. Please”.

The two great naval leaders manoeuvred into position, and the battle was joined. Almost immediately, Snouter lost a ship. A simple attack down the right flank caught out the Wellingtonians, and it was a simple kill for one of their forward vessels. Snouter was livid, and urged his captains to tighten up and press forward into battle, for “Mayor and City”.

The blustery wind was making handling difficult, and the more experienced Valley sailors seemed to know how to manage the conditions better. Also, their ships were much taller. Snouter had been forced to push forward using his two smallest ships, the Rat 1 and Wallace. While the latter still retain some of its speed in spite of her age, the Rat 1 had just been brought back into commission after spending many years in dry dock, and almost certainly had a lot of molluscs on her rudder. Behind them, in a standard 4-4-2 formation, the good ships Guthrie, Rat 3, Nash and Kyne work away earnestly but without much penetration.

After a while, Snouter was cheered to see the late arrival of HMS Telboy, who had been delayed by over-zealous customs officials insisting on inspecting her infrastructure for signs of artificial stimulants. This joy was short-lived however, as a piece of blatant cheating by an observing UN official meant the loss of a second ship for the Wellington fleet. The official accused HMS Guthrie of ‘conduct unbecoming a gentleman inside the rear defensive quadrant’, and the resulting penalty was severe. The crew aboard the HMS Dodge sent out a volley of abuse in response, but it fell on deaf and stupid ears.

This latest set-back galvanised the Wellington fleet, and they pressed forward. Rat 1 seemed to have loosened up her rudder, and Guthrie was surging back and forth earnestly. The good ships Wallace and Nash caused some stress to the Valley up the right, and from there an opportunity arose to take back an enemy ship. The honourable men of HMS Rat 3 made an attack, were repelled, but the opening was there now for HMS Telboy, freshly arrived on the battlefield, to strike home the kill with his right cannon.

This all seemed quite encouraging for Snouter, but just as the UN observer was about to call a temporary halt to proceedings to enable the ships to refuel, sleepy defensive work meant the loss of another Wellington ship. This was entirely with the run of the battle though, as numerous Valley attacks had already damaged much of the woodwork of Snout’s fleet.

Snout gathered his captains around him as his fleet of ships and their crews were refreshed. Unfortunately, the only liquid refreshment available to the men was some kind of pineapple concoction, so most of them were violently ill over the side. Snouter gave out tactical changes for the next phase of the battle. Rather than hold to a formal structure, he wanted his ships to wander around aimlessly all over the place, so as to confuse the Hutt Valley defenders.

Meanwhile, in Wainui, Napoleon received a text from Admiral Villeneuve. “All going well. Stop. Got three ships. Stop. Better Stop. Stop. Running out of credit. Stop.” Napoleon got up out of bed, wiped his dick on the curtains, and took a slug from a half-empty bottle of Asti. Josephine rolled over and looked at the little General. He could still do the business, she thought, but I prefer the maids. She longed for him to go off on some other campaign, so she could get on with ‘interviewing’ some of those Spanish girls who tended the royal garden. Napoleon farted loudly, scratched his arse, and put on his tunic. “I’m off down the pub, love, looks like we’re going to win today. Don’t wait up.”

The second stanza of the battle began with HMS Gordie leading the line for the City-based marauders. Suffering from an ever-increasing turning circle, the Gordie had been severely delayed for this battle by work needed on one of her secretaries. But now she was probing at the Hutt Valley defenders, with the help of HMS Spratt. HMS Wallace probed relentlessly around the right flank as well, and from one of these HMS Telboy was able to inflict some damage on the woodwork of a Hutt ship. But soon the Wellington crews tired, and resorted to long range efforts from the corners by the HMS Rat 2, none of which inflicted much damage.

As the sun began to set, the Hutt Valley forces surged forward once more. Snouter’s fleet was stretched, and another ship was lost. It could have been two, but another dubious adjudication by the UN observer only resulted in some damaged woodwork.

During this final assault, Snout was mortally wounded. Hardy, a sergeant of the marines and two privates, rushed forward to lift him up, and carried the great leader below decks. Later, Snout’s life was now ebbing away fast when Hardy returned from the fighting to inform him that the battle was lost. Snout said “I have done my duty. I thank God for it. Now kiss me quick, Hardy." Hardy’s response was “Fuck off and die, you old Queen.”

And so it was, ten years ago this week, Wellington lost the Battle of Trafalgar, and the Hutt Valley hordes swarmed virtually unhindered into the great city. The rest is history. As we all now know, the crews of HMS Rat 1 and Dodge were already mutinous, and helped transport the victorious raiders south to their utopia.

Within days, teenage solo mums in white ugg boots roamed freely along Lambton Quay. Sheet metal workers started ordering soya decaf lattes in cafes, and skate board ramps started appearing on The Terrace. Accountants and IT executives were forced into menial labour, and Churton Park was converted into a boot camp for troubled teens. Mortgage brokers and real estate agents started moving into the abandoned houses in Oriental Bay, their occupants having fled to the Gold Coast.

It was the beginning of the end of life as we knew it.

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