This game was the last in Turtle colours for Don (pictured), for a few years at least. Our hard tackling webmeister is off to the other side of the world to seek money. For many this man is an enigma, being very high profile in the Turtle organisation, and having a well-publicised private life (any Turtle not married with kids is fair game). But is there more? Could there possibly be any dirt under that well scrubbed facade? Well, this reporter was given the task of finding out.

It all started by being called in to the chief editors' office on Level 23 of Shell House, head quarters of the Turtle business empire. Cornelius Stool is an unpleasant man, having a liking for minestrone and jousting. Left behind him in his drive to the top of Turtle publishing were three wives, lots of dirty dishes, and a barrel load of severed heads. He made it clear that he didn't like the way Don was escaping overseas with his image more or less intact, and wanted that to change. 

To scrape up some grime, this reporter dived headlong into the seedy nightlife of Welly, where, it is said, Don has left a trail of stories. For four consecutive nights, every square inch of town was covered, a sordid job that involved propping up a succession of bars, asking anyone who came near if they wanted to sell a grubby story, preferably involving Don. Most of the material collected will be used on future articles involving Spratty, but finally, in the wee hours of Sunday, we struck gold. Slumped in a dark corner of The Blue Note, a haggard old whore called Tinkerbell had, for a small fee, a tale about Don so vile that as she told it her teeth fell out at regular intervals. 

For some reason her knowledge of Don was encyclopedic. As a young boy he attended Wellington College. At the time there was a tradition that new entrants to the school would fag for boys in the year above, and Don was assigned to Steve Langridge. The practice was outlawed within days, but these two got on so well that Don was happy to fag away until Steve left the school four years later. They have been close ever since. When Steve headed over to London, Don was not far behind, so to speak. Little is known by current Turtles of their time over there, but Tinkerbell knew it all. One fateful Thurday night in Soho, Don's life changed forever. 

Steve and Don had spent the evening drinking in The Spotted Dick. Steve was ready to leave at 9pm, but Don wanted one for the road, so Steve left him to it. A couple of minutes later Don was approached by a man not unlike Hercules Poirot in appearance. He introduced himself as Klaus Ingerbuns, a successful Belgian film director. Klaus went on to tell Don that he had been observing him throughout the night, and was convinced that he was perfect for a role in his next film. Don was understandably cautious, but flattered as well. Klaus made an instant offer - 2,000 pounds for one week's work. 

Tinkerbell's description of what happened next was hazy, as some sort of withdrawal was kicking in, and she was becoming incoherent, but she was able to reach into her briefcase and pull out a video tape. The battered cover had on it some foreign writing, and a blurred picture of two dwarfs in wetsuits being whipped by a strangely familiar person in fishnet stockings and a tutu. At this stage Tinkerbell slid to the floor, an opportunity for any caring citizen to help one badly in need. This reporter slipped the video into his jacket pocket, knocked back Tinkerbell's unfinished drink (Pernod and black), and left hurriedly. 

Later that morning Cornelius Stool was shown one of the most depraved porn videos ever made. Don, wearing a blond wig and an assortment of saucy lingerie, went through the full range of sordid behaviour, in the company of three dwarfs (one of each sex), a bald six foot dominatrix, and a stuffed turkey. Afterwards, Cornelius locked the tape away in his safe, saying "this stuff will be very valuable one day, when Don makes his fortune".

Is it any wonder then, that Don has such a violent streak just under the surface? Such an experience would turn anyone into a raving psychopath. As well as being the master of the badly timed, sprigs-up tackle, Don's reputation for violence extends to off the field as well. The most humorous example of this was on the famous Martinborough team trip, when, late at night CJ was describing, in nauseating detail, his recent snip. Don couldn't handle it, and resorted to violence. For some reason Weasel's bollocks were his first target, and those present laughed heartily as the Weas fell to the ground and writhed in agony. More violence occurred at Blobby's 30th birthday, when Don drank heavily prior to arriving, and once there proceeded to assault anyone within reach. (This may have also been the occasion when Trudy orally assaulted Dodger's nob on a very public sofa. Note: must check facts, do not publish this bit).

More recently, Don's behaviour has become even more erratic, including offering free pussy over the email system, and giving Dodge a cellphone. We hope he gets better soon.
Saturday's venue was Melrose Park, which borders the zoo. A female gibbon on heat found the sight of the Turtles going through their pre-match routine of stretching and dry-wretching highly exciting, and shook the fence violently. Livi wandered over to size her up, thinking how sad it was that gibbon was not a delicacy in NZ. Inspired by the gibbon, the oppo started at a hectic pace. The first of four early corners came in the first minute, and the lads were stretched by the oppo's high-speed approach. Don had been assigned their number two, who was absurdly quick. Not able to keep up with him, Don often just tripped or grabbed him. The No. 2 could obviously see that Don is a troubled soul, and let him get away with it. 

When we finally got our breath, some nice forward passing resulted, Livi and Spratty combining well with Murray up the right. Against the run of play, we scored first. Spratty played a ball forward, their chubby centre back miskicked his clearance, and Paily nodded it on into the path of Livi, who finished clinically into the far corner.

Despite all their running, the oppo only managed long range efforts, mainly due to the presence of Tel and Brendan in the middle at the back. Up front, Spratty made a few runs, and from one of these he gave it to Livi and demanded the return. Livi stuffed it up, and Spratty lost his rag completely, a sad but funny sight. A short time later a Weasel run up the left gave Spratty a shooting chance on the edge of the box, but he was 10 years off target. The rest of the first half was played at pace, but no clear chances came at either end.

Livi jinks through the Wellington United defence

At half-time Mat came on. After a big night on the piss he had got up at 2pm and was late for game. He played like he was on the point of throwing up, and after the game admitted he was going to MacDonalds then home to bed. Perhaps he should seriously reconsider his career in the liquor industry, and discuss this with his area manager, a serious and sober young man. 
By the ten minute mark of the second half most of the people on the park were knackered, and the rest of the game was played in slow motion. Only occasionally someone would get a burst of energy and the oppo equaliser came from such a burst, with a couple of extra numbers in attack giving them one free on the right side of the box. Waiting there was the clutz who had been standing out on their right wing the entire second half, doing nothing of note, and appearing to have no skill at all. As the ball bounced enticingly for him, Steve came across to cover, and Snout awaited what he thought would be some dribbly scuff. Imagine our surprise when it was smashed over Snout at high speed. Very odd. 
This bouyed the oppo briefly, but they didn't have a lot of running left, and Mat and Paily were creating the better chances. Oh, and Livi. Stationed at left half, he had taken this to mean left wing 50 yards from anyone else. Whilst over on the right Phildo (on for the crumbling Weasel), and Murray were getting in each other’s way, Livi was enjoying space and time to observe the sunset. 
Finally something happened. Mat put in a testing cross to the far post, and their keeper fumbled. Paily battled for it in the crowded area, and was able to poke it square for Spratty to finish. Down the other end a short time later the oppo scorer tried to rugby tackle Tel to secure an opening, and he nearly did when his feeble cross was missed by Murray, but the follow up shot was wayward. Soon after that we made the result safe. Livi awoke, and made a great run down the left. He went right to the line, and cut it back for Paily to score. Spratty regarded this event as nothing short of orgasmic, and hugged his two strikers passionately. The sight of two Asians and a Pom, none of whom are over 5 foot, in a close embrace, is not at all pleasant, and we hope not to see it again thank you.
In the later stages Snouter had to make a couple of tricky stops looking into the almost horizontal sun, and he grabbed them safely, bless him.

Don was later awarded MoM for his exhaustive running and fine career. Bye.

The Turtles prepare to clear a corner