In which certain observations are offered regarding the recent victory in the provinces and the prospective imminent fortunes of our zealous and active band of gentlemen are addressed in their generality.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that an Association Football establishment in want of fortune shall also want of points, and thus of the good fellowship of those that might otherwise lend it their support. For without fortune, there is nothing to recommend it to any prospective suitor – neither owner, player or supporter. Thus it shall languish in the lower reaches of the league, looked upon with sympathy by some, disdain by others, and cold neglect by those whose heads would be turned by the allure of the wealthy, no matter how far removed they may be.

Those who attended the recent engagement at the Molineux estate will, no doubt, be quick to attest to the veracity of this observation. The Wanderers of Wolverhampton, who find themselves victim of both ill-fortune and ineptitude, shall soon be forced to withdraw quietly into the company of  the improvident, ill-advised and ambitious denizens of the Championship. There, they shall be forced to retrench or be subsumed further into financial difficulty. For it is also acknowledged that rank and position, once having been lost, are exceedingly difficult to regain.

For the residents of  Ashburton House (formerly of Highbury) however, the engagment proved to be a satisfactory event. The clumsiness of their hosts served not to injure their well-being but to enliven the proceedings, affording opportunities for both entertainment and profit. And being gentlemen of both talent and experience, they ensured that they took advantage of such opportunities, while at the same time showing admirable forbearance for the sensibilities of their host, Mr. Connor, by contriving to disdain opportunities to widen the margin of victory beyond a mere three to nothing. As for the affable and well-meaning Mr. Connor himself, the experience was clearly a most vexing one, and he struggled to maintain his composure when under the mild duress of a bland but obvious query into the dismissal of young Master Bassong, whose moral character, it is clear, has been corrupted by his intimate connection with the dissolute and reprehensible set of blackguards known to frequent the most unsavoury region of the Northern area of London.

What, then, may be said of the prospects of our gallant band of heroes? They return once more to their welcoming environs of Ashburton for a further engagement with the talented but perhaps under-achieving athletic gentlemen of Wigan, to commence at the hour of eight on the forthcoming Monday. Whereas the gentlemen of Wolverhampton were uninspired in their opposition, we must expect their counterparts from northwestern climes to provide a potentially more dangerous challenge, being as they are emboldened by their latest victory against the irascible Scot and his cohorts. Yet might we not allow ourselves to believe that for all the genial adventure of Mr. Martinez, we are possessed of all the requisite qualities to ensure his men are consigned to defeat, and victory can be assured if we apply the necessary application and zeal?

Were we to secure such a victory, a gap of significance would then separate ourselves from our despicable rivals, amounting to eight points; and then who could chastise us for suggesting to the reprehensible Mr. Redknapp that he may place his own testicles in his mouth for the purpose of self-gratification?