This year’s tour saw a return to Westward Ho! after last years excursion to Yarm in the northeast. There were some notable absences in the shape of (and an unusual shape it is too) Steve Taylor who late in the season developed a loathing of driving long distances, a trait that he keeps in his golf game. Ian Saunders who, “Had some unfinished business!” Paul Mason who went mad, John Mellor who couldn’t decide whether to go or not (we will tell him soon that it doesn’t matter now) and Ian Salmon who wasn’t invited along with John the Post and Eastgate.

As usual, the forward party of Jacobs, Smith and Goodge left 2 days early to play golf and prepare the way for the troops. What happened in the course of their early visit cannot be reported here due to a code of silence highly honoured in the team.

The remainder of the squad arrived on Friday lunchtime at Portmoor golf club to enjoy the pre game beer and hearty renditions of our journeys there.

“Woody nearly fucking killed us!” explained Buzz.

No one asked how but Buzz told us anyway. Apparently it was down to a bad decision made by Woody. This means that Woody nearly fucking killed each one of us several times during the season.

The golf games themselves were uneventful and there is nothing much worth reporting other than, ‘How does Knocker win every year?’ We’ve seen him play and he’s less accurate than Goodgie! A good point well made.

And so to the chalets at Braddicks which sadly had other people staying this year. The doorstep banter usually so subdued had to be shouted fair distances much to the annoyance of the old boy in ‘29’. Our first complaint came at 7.35 pm when a young girl complained about, ‘a small fat sweaty man wandering around in his boxer shorts’. An apology was issued and a sensible representative was sent to get Neil from the bar. Once dressed, he was released back into the bar and was joined by the others. A 10 minute taxi ride later and the boys were across the river in the ‘Wayfarer’ listening to the old standards. When Buzz had stopped, we enjoyed the singing of a rat pack soundalike. An hour later and the fire drill was impeccably observed in record time when the alarm, ‘Mack the Knife’ rang. By the end of the night, most had joined in either singing or chatting up toothless, aged lesbians. Some chose to try Bideford’s nightlife again, even after several failed attempts in previous years. One club was enjoying traditional beer glass throwing with the local thugs who seemed pleased to see us. A small group of others enjoyed a river side stroll where they saw some wife beating. Buzz bizarrely intervened and even more bizarrely didn’t kill anyone. Neil was incensed at the locals behaviour and in his most threatening manner shouted, “Where is the taxi rank?” On return to the chalets, the complaints had started to arrive swiftly and manager Wood dealt with them efficiently as if he was in a press conference.

“It wasn’t me.” “I wasn’t here.” “Charlie did it.” “He will undergo a fitness test in the morning.” Satisfied with his answers, the site manager left and Neil came home. Neil played football with Jaz in the chalet and enjoyed a few Foster’s sandwiches.

In the morning the boys went into the village for breakfast where they recruited a local visitor to play for them that night against Putford. The rest of the afternoon was enjoyed in separate ways, some opting for a drive into the country and others to sleep or play pool. The boys opting for the drive into the country were rewarded in the Hoops Inn by a magnificent pair of tits that kept them in there for a further 8 pints. By the time the evening game arrived, everyone was tired and pissed. It is important that Zeus arrive at a match in a similar condition each week.

The game was fast on their part and reluctant on ours. No one can remember the score but we think we lost. The pitch was on a slope and a mixture of grass in abundance and bare earth. This was Wembley compared to Eastwoodbury Lane!

And so back to the pub to train for the morning. A trip to a local ‘private members club’ and the music of a local blues band with a lock in suited the older members of the team (over 50’s) while the others returned to Braddicks in the hope of the traditional school reunion. Sadly it was booked for the week after and Neil’s collection of ‘named stickers’ were of no use. A pool tournament was arranged and a chance for Goodge to shine. It is absolutely mystifying how he can make such good contact with a snooker cue on a ball the size of John the Posts testicles and sink it, and be completely the opposite where a football is concerned! Sadly, Bobbo insisted on shutting the bar and it was off again for Foster’s sandwiches.

The boys arose early again and tidied up, payed the bill (reduced thanks to Neil apparently. Glenda was smiling!) and left for the mornings contest at Dolton.

Team selection was again bizarre with players actually getting a game. It was again far too fast and furious. Buzz was exposed at right back (but it was dealt with quickly by the police) and Goodge and Smith were far more concerned about a bet as to who was the worst player. On what criteria would you ascertain an answer? Anyway, they were both shit. 5-0 down at half time and Woody contemplated changes. Remarkably like the rest of the season when changes are contemplated a tad late perhaps? But what a turn around! The magic touch came like the stirring end to those films when the crap team turn the season around because the worst player (usually related to the manager) finds form. Yes!!! Simon stopped letting goals in and Goodge controlled the ball….twice! We won 23-5.

The pub after the game was quaint and hospitable and after Buzz had beaten the landlord up unless he made us some sandwiches, we ate heartily before saying our goodbyes.

The tour was again a success and North Devon applauded our visit and held a fete when we left. Next year? Well who knows? Will Zeus still have a team? Will the majority of the squad have retired? If not why not?

The following appointments were made in the closed season.

Secretary – Mr. Paul Mason

Manager – (until someone else volunteers). Mr. Rob Wood

Sexual Director – Mr C. ‘Buzz’ Saunders. (when we want his fucking opinion we’ll ask)

Groundsman – Mrs. C Docherty.

Barman – Dr. D.S. Taylor

It was also decided at an extraordinary meeting of the committee to abandon the squad rotation system in favour of intimidation tactics. This means that both Saunders brothers will play every week as more coverage can be achieved if they are on the pitch. Any complaints about the season must be addressed to Mr. Paul Mason.

Oh yes........Jacobs scored