It was a dark, windy morning in the hills. As the army gathered, the murmured greetings were nearly drowned out by the howling northerly. It was an odd assortment of characters, drawn together from all over the kingdom by their belief in what was right. From Paily, the fresh-faced sun-dial maker, to Wal, the tired old abacus seller, they were all prepared to fight and die for the cause. Most of them were feeling a combination of excitement and fear - this was going to be an historic day, but how many of them would return at dusk?

Cardinal Tel signaled to his trumpeters, and prepared to give his first speech of the day. He hadn't really needed to be told, but the Archbishop had given specific instruction on how and when to rouse the troops. That silly old fool, thought Tel, I'll have his chair before the year is out. Tel was one of several ambitious young Cardinals who knew the gospel backwards and kept themselves fit. He knew the time would soon come when a few vials of poison coupled with a some high profile victories in battle would seem him ascend to the highest office.

"Men, it is with a full heart that I stand here before you today". (Rousing cheers - "Hooray", "Whoopee", "Get your kit off"). "It is full of love for HIM" ("Waahaayy", "Faggot"). "We embark on this mission to bring the good word to the heathens. I don't need to tell you how wretched their lives are - carousing and devil worship, with no hope of redemption. It is our responsibility, nay, duty, as well adjusted, pious citizens, to go out there and save them!" ("Hooray", "Whoopee", "Where's the mead").

With that, Tel waved his stumpy little sword and strode off down the hill towards the mist-shrouded valleys. His faithful troupe surged after him with a cheer, waving their weapons in the air. To anyone watching it would have made a daunting sight - row upon row of fearless warriors streamed down the hillside, flanked by apprentices carrying their flagstaffs proudly, and led by Tel, his finely toned features displayed in black tank top and speedos.

As always, the two Murrays lagged at the back. It wasn't that they weren't as brave as the rest, it's just that, well, there was no point in rushing was there. The larger Murray preferred to be last in to battle, just in case things got ugly, and he had put on an extra mesh jumper. The smaller Murray liked battle, but always liked to have room to run away if threatened. As they trotted after the others, Murray the larger chatted away about his new house, that had real thatch. Murray the smaller smiled quietly.

When they reached the sea at the bottom of the hill, the crusaders stopped briefly to have a nice cup of tea, then headed north. They followed the sea for a while, warmed by the weak winter sun as it rose. Moods were lifted by the sun and sea air, and Wal pulled out his piccolo and started to sing - "Hey nonny nonny, were off to smash the oiks, with a hey and a nonny nonny". Others joined in, and for a while it was all very jolly. Then they approached the dense bush of the valleys, and a somber mood returned. At the edge of the bush they were met by Dodge and Spratty, who had successfully infiltrated the Valley people to gain insight into their ways. Neither was unscathed from their assignments. Dodge had put on a massive amount of weight and lost all his hair, and Spratty was slurring his words and stumbling about. Seeing these once proud men reduced to this state got the blood boiling again.

The crusaders took their first tentative steps into the bush, being careful not to step on any dog eggs. Their first challenge was to cross the river. Brought along for this reason was Boy, an engineering expert. He walked out into the raging torrent, and was promptly swept under and drowned. Not put off by this, the troupe moved up river to a shallower bit, and crossed safely.

It was now only a mile or so to the battle ground. As they marched, they began to suit up - mouth-guards were put in, shin-pads slipped into socks, and shorts tightened. Tel gathered his troops around him within sight of the clearing that would see the battle. He raised his arms for quiet, exposing a cleanly shaven armpit - "Men, in a few minutes we will engage the unwashed heathen that pollute this land. If you doubt yourself or our cause, then turn back now - this is not a time for doubts. I won't courage, passion, ball control and slick passing. Now get out there".

Gathering on the opposite side of the clearing were the foe. And my god they were ugly. Weasel went a bit faint, but took a slug of gin and got it back. PK threw up, but everyone had come to expect that. This time it appeared to be rabbit stew. Paily wet himself. Then suddenly a whistle blew, and battle commenced.

The start was fast and furious. The visiting crusaders were soon on the back foot against their more ferocious opponents, not least because of the way the bumpy surface made control difficult, and a lot of passes were misdirected under pressure. In the middle, Matt was the first to fall. He had obviously come unprepared, and to save time fell on his sword after ten minutes. Murray and Brendan were now battling in the middle, but found it too much to get up and support Paily and Stu, who were left to attack the home fortress alone. Tel, leading from the back, was staunch, but on either side of him, Steve and GT were being taunted by some quick and skillful opponents. GT lunged clumsily several times, and was parried easily. 

After about 15 minutes, GT was turned inside out, not a pretty sight, exposing Snouter, the last line of defense. An opponent held on to him to reduce his effectiveness, and it was, to coin a phrase, one nil.The injustice of it all angered Snouter, and from that moment on he was inspirational. This man, who had gone on more crusade than any other (nearly - passes Blobby next week), flung himself about athletically for the rest of the day, including one astonishing moment in the second period when, after a fluffed clearance, he was out of position, but leaped back like a heavily pregnant salmon heading upstream.

Back in the first period, Brendan was putting it about a bit in the middle and incurred the wrath of the unofficial adjudicator. As an aside, this adjudicator had no involvement or knowledge of the proceedings, but rather liked the idea of coming out of his mud hut once a week, leaving his donkey and turnip collection, and wandering around on the grass annoying people.

Battle was halted briefly for a nice cool drink. Wal and Dodge decided they were too old for all this, retreated to a nearby tent, and PK and Simon joined in. Si possesses an imposing physique, but prefers to sit at home with his loom, and seldom strikes fear into anyone. PK doesn't have any kind of physique.

The resumption of hostilities brought a different look to the battlefield. Through the efforts of Brendan especially, the visitors were gaining parity in the middle, and Stu and Paily had a bit of support. Weasel and Stu worked away at the left flank, and several times got into promising positions. To counter this, the home mob retreated to protect their base, and were able to protect their frail looking "keeper" from too much work. This pattern opened up a lot of space in Snouter's half, and on numerous occasions he was in danger. Two of these occurred because the wind and malnutrition caused Steve and then later Weasel to fall over. Fortunately, the home forward line was profligate.

As time wore on, the effort began to take its toll. Cardinal Tel limped away to the recovery tent, where his hand-maiden Meropi administered a hot poultice. His troops tried manfully to draw level in his absence, but couldn't quite breached the walls of defense. Finally, the adjudicator called an early halt to proceedings, because he missed his donkey. The crusaders, after first washing themselves in a nearby stream, limped away from the clearing. It had been a tough, but unexpectedly clean battle. The reputation the heathens had appeared unjustified, apart from the tosser adjudicator. They had honourably defended their right to live in debauched squalor, and were welcome to it.