The Meat Clinic

Summer News Roundup #37

2007-06-29T13:48:00.000+01:00

New Players
The club has been trumpeting the arrival of a seemingly endless list of journeymen to the club. Some of them may be up to scratch but the Wycombe way is to herald all of these players as saviours for three minutes, then to start destroying them before they've even kicked a ball. One man to escape this fate so far is rangy striker John Sutton. Brother of Chris, which is in fact his middle name, he comes to the club as a genuine transfer coup, or so they say. But does anyone else have the feeling that scoring 11 times for St Mirren in a league as bad as the SPL is not really that impressive? This was a division in which Henrik Larsson used to rack up 39 goals before the August Bank Holiday.

Still, he's on youtube, he's white and he hasn't played yet so the Drone Army are yet to savage him like a dog eating a chump chop.

Old Staff
The news that Steve Brown, Keith Ryan and John Granville were all being booted out of the club was a sad moment. No-one begrudges Paul Lambert the opportunity to shape the staff as he wants but the way that the news about the trio was handled was appalling. The club maintain it is for financial reasons but this blatant spin has generally been coughed back in their puffed-up faces by the fans. Ryan in particular, made many financial sacrifices for the club in his playing career, and now is officially being let go so that we can waste money on facepainting tents and Keith Blagbrough's long-held dream of a seven-course lunch.

These men were all heroes and they should depart knowing that they will always be remembered by Wycombe fans, long after the club sign their 4000th loan player of the 21st Century.

Let The Right One Slip In

2007-06-11T17:30:00.000+01:00

Sensational news in the world of Wycombe Wanderers today as it was announced that the new writer on the club website is none other than Henry Hill. This surprising move has sent shockwaves through the Wanderers fanzine community with one person commenting "if Hill has turned state's evidence then none of us are safe". With mattress sales going through the roof (something that will please stadium sponsors Dreams) these are confusing times for Wanderers fans.

South Bucks has seen many friends of ours nervously building bonfires and hiring slots at the jpeg incinerator as the news spreads like wildfire. Rumours that Hill has been wired for years has led to certain investors in SMBU moving their families down to Miami.

These are extraordinary times and until the knock on the door at midnight comes from the police or the Ballboy Manageress we at the Meat Clinic will continue to operate business as usual.

Power Chords

2007-06-07T13:54:00.000+01:00

I, Tucker Chump, was a visitor to Wembley last Friday for a game between two disinterested teams in front of howling fans, faces painted with blood and stained with cherished memories. Little stood out, other than the CGI architecture and the crows swooping down from great heights to feed on the dead grass.

But at half-time as I urinated powerfully I could not avoid the truth any longer. The two men either side of me had clearly been eating asparagus as the stench of their foaming piss was more than enough evidence. This is some change from the old Wembley, where the piss smelt of a simpler era, one when men were men and vegetables were processed and tinned.

We have lost this forever. Mourn it.

Die Mensch-Maschine

2007-05-24T11:25:00.000+01:00

Vile news emanating from the club this week in the form of Wycombe's pre-season in Dortmund being a behind-closed-doors special. Yes, that's right, no Wycombe fans will be allowed to watch their side taking on a bunch of keen Germans, instead they are being offered the chance to watch Wanderers play dreary failures Oxford United later in the summer.

Fair enough, you might say, Wycombe will be working on some special tactics so that they don't lose every fucking game once the season reaches February. Or perhaps the German side will be smashed up on growth hormone and could endanger the fans. But the fact remains, the club pumped this trip like Christmas Day earlier this year and for many Wycombe fans it was the only thing keeping them going towards the end of the campaign.

At Barnet I saw grown men toying with cyanide capsules in the palm of their hands at half-time, so physically repulsed were they by the dreadful exhibition they were watching. These haunted, troubled dreamers were only kept from the sweet stench of suicide with the promise of Germany, the Fatherland, and a continental summer. These luckless lads must now cancel their foreign roving and instead trudge down the A40 like so many lame horses before them.

Wycombe Wanderers take your dreams and pack them into a tiny ball and then fire them into the heart of the sun. And they laugh while they do it and they charge you for the privilege. But book early and you'll get €3 off.

Time After Time (Annelise)

2007-05-14T14:32:00.000+01:00

Just how much of his career does Lulu "Lawrie" Sanchez owe to Liverpool FC? The gloom-filled tactician has benefitted from the Merseyside club over and over again and frankly I am sick of it.

1988 - "Sanch" nods a goal in for Milton Keynes against Liverpool and milks it so dry that even the molten surface of the sun has a higher humidity level.

2001 - Wycombe fight their way into the FA Cup semi-final against Liverpool. Cue Sanchez saying he "doesn't want to talk about 1988" more than 5,258 times and even going on Match of the Day to DEFINITELY NOT TALK ABOUT THAT GOAL. (They showed it twice, as Sanchez talked it through).

2005 - England draft in Liverpool defender Jamie Carragher for the away game in Northern Ireland and are left stunned when Sanchez's team dump them 1-0. Liverpool captain Steven Gerrard has a dire game and is substituted with 15 minutes to go. Sanchez demands that the media talk about his players, not him, but refuses to leave the room.

2007 - With Lulu installed as temporary Fulham boss, Liverpool roll up at Craven Cottage with a team made up of local cub scouts, three milkmen and a triallist from Canal+ who Rafa Benitez knows from Spain. Fulham somehow scrape a 1-0 win and stay up, fooling Mohammed Al Fayed into hiring Super Sanchez permanently.

We all know it will go horribly wrong in the end but I have little stomach for the surly, preening interim.

Memorize The City

2007-05-09T23:45:00.000+01:00

There is something about April & May in a football that seems to herald disaster. From Bradford to Heysel to Hillsborough, every fan knows the routine macabre order. Well another one can be added to the list after Tuesday night: Oxford United failed to get back into the Football League.

Yes, no-one was killed this time, and that's something to be thankful for, but the mental scars in Headington could take a long time to heal. If the city hadn't suffered enough after Inspector Morse died and the rowers came second, losing to Exeter on penalties was a low blow in anyone's book.

Why, it is only a few months since we met our comrades from across the border in the FA Cup and their friendly and enthusiastic chatter about returning to the League was one of the highlights of the season for many Wycombe fans. I know because I asked them. Oxford are a great example of a community club who pull together and value their place at the community table of football and it will be sad to see such a giant slumming it in the non-league for another season.

Their kindness even extended to thinking of building a temporary fourth stand at their ground to house the travelling Grecian fans, but the home faithful managed to find enough people to not go to the second leg so that the City followers could be housed in one of the three permanent stands. This attitude is sadly missing at Wycombe, where Adams Park was sold out in minutes for the visit of Premiership champions Chelsea in January. We could certainly learn from Oxford: the biggest game of the season doesn't have to turn into an ugly bunfight for tickets.

Frankly, the thought of former winners of the Milk Cup being in the fifth tier is hard for us at the Meat Clinic to stomach and we will certainly be backing the mighty U's in their trips to Histon and Droylsden next season. At least their league will be called "The Premier League" next season, and in these dark times that could well be a crumb of comfort for the passionate and loyal fans of Oxford United. Good luck!

Mongrel Love

2007-05-07T10:57:00.000+01:00

As the ball heaved its way backward and forward like a tennis match played by the infirm and angered there was a stark moment of clarity, captured forever in the May sunshine. The Drone Army, The Geek Army, the muttering OAPs and the men in brogues all had the same thought at exactly the same time:

"This is fucking gash."

Away trips to Barnet are to be avoided at the best of times. Even if qualification for the FIFA World Cup depended on a win at Underhill you'd think twice about going, so why so many Wycombe fans trailed to Hertfordshire on Saturday remains a mystery. Perhaps it was the promise of the three middle aged men who gestured and gave it the full Gerard Lavin when Barnet equalised, seemingly mistaken that they were at a football match with atmosphere and importance. Perhaps not.

The game was similar to eating breakfast on Christmas morning when you were a kid. Something normally faintly enjoyable that you couldn't wait to end. Hurry up, hurry up, let's get it done and move out.

As the late Barnet winner laughed its way into the net there was a collective shrug of the shoulders amongst the Wanderers support and the players were already trudging back to the dressing room before the referee (the true enemy yeah?) had finished fellating his pea-whistle. 10 games without a win, our season ended when it was snowing and snowmen melt very quickly in the gulf stream.

The only positive was not having to head back west for a £65 carvery, that would have been like a shovel in the anus, a slap around the chops.

She's Lost Control

2007-04-19T14:25:00.000+01:00

Today it is exactly 60 years since Frank Adams opened his wallet, pulled out the Visa Electron and said "Give me a Loakes Park with fries, Wycombe's gonna own it." Yes, the greatest benefactor in the club's history (even better than miracle man Brian Kane) is a person who should always be remembered by any Chairboys fan and we are lucky that until the club find a new sponsor, the ground will be called Adams Park, or the former Causeway Stadium, or Wasps' ground. A fitting tribute.

1947 eh? The rebuilding, the austerity, the NHS, it was a time of gestures and Franco's real estate gift was nothing if not a sign of the times. Fast forward 60 years and things have changed a little. No more will supporters get to see the player of the season being announced on the pitch. Instead, a cool £65 will see you get a slap-up roast dinner and a droning procession of club officials before a bored overrated player accepts a trophy and vows to himself to get a transfer in the summer even if involves moving to the Isthmian League or Poland.

Everything has a price now at Adman's Park and in an era when it is technically illegal to send your friend details of a goal on a text message from the ground, we should be glad that it is still (currently) possible to breathe air at the ground for free. And what about the supporters' representative Keith Blagbrough? Has he come out and said that hiding the player of the season award like it's a Jew in a Dutch attic is wrong? No, he has not, he is too busy seeing how many roast potatoes he can fit on his solid gold WWFC fork. Nice work.

Electric Avenue

2007-04-01T12:51:00.000+01:00

Due to financial constraints this will be the final Meat Clinic entry in its current form. In an exciting development SMBU will now be incorporated into the club's official website as a "fun section" to go alongside the match reports, stats and great offers from Wycombe Wanderers.

The club have been courting us for a while now and the opportunity to work under the umbrella organisation of the excellent Premium TV is one that is very exciting to us and will make for some great reading for the fans!

This new era also means some new writers will join SMBU, including club director Keith Blagbrough and Sky TV's top commentator Alan Parry, both of whom will be providing maximum entertainment in their own inimitable styles. Sadly there will not be room on the club's web server to store all the old SMBU pages so these will be purged sometime this week.

Our new URL will be www.wwfc.org/SMBU/Krazy.html so make sure you bookmark it and join the party! It's been a great season and it will only get better as we move forwards together.

SMBU - OFFICIAL HUMOR SECTION OF WWFC

Cindy Of A Thousand Lives

2007-03-20T21:06:00.000Z

It had to be didn't it? Like Shaggy and Scooby Doo pulling the mask from the friendly janitor, it emerged today (in the Daily Mail no less) that one of the keenest supporters of the harebrained idea of ending drawn Football League games with a penalty shootout was none other than Len Beeks, Wycombe's brown-coated figurehead. The howls of derision that greeted this news have led to a media crackdown from the club, with talk of misrepresentation and "the last decent thing the Daily Mail did was back Moseley in the 30s".

But the Meat Clinic cannot blame Robber Beeks, even if it does turn out he gave the penalty a huge thumbs-up. He is simply confused and nostalgic, and considering he sits through most games at Wycombe who can blame him for wanting some more excitement?

For starters, all Wycombe home games now finish as draws, most of them as turgid as a sandwich from a service station. Add to this the utter lack of atmosphere at the Adams Park in association with Magners Arena and you can see why Leonard was so keen to inject some excitement into the gnnnnnghg MATCHDAY EXPERIENCE in Sands.

He is wrong of course. Penalty shootouts should be used rarely like auto-asphyxiation and Night Nurse.

What Beeks should have realised is that years of dreary family-based policies and the banning of supporters for celebrating goals has made a game at Wycombe about as high-octane as a butcher's bicycle. Perhaps if he and his exalted friends on the Football League board stopped courting American corporations for just one second they would realise this and try to reverse years of damage to the game. Fat chance my dear, fat chance.

Winds Of Change

2007-03-18T13:09:00.000Z

And so it began my dear, and so it ended also, with the northern wind howling down Hillbottom Valley like a nuclear blast taking the rosy chops clean off a group of children, the dry conclusion instantaneous as they looked up into the morose sky. In the midst of it all was a workmanlike Wycombe team, huffing and puffing against a workmanlike Walsall team, there was bustle everywhere but you can't build an empire out of bustle.

As we all saw a year ago, the key to football in the spring is momentum, it drives you forwards on the sticky pitches all pock-marked by a million studs, and it seems that once again Wycombe do not have the necessary momentum. There are sides like Darlington and Peterborough just below us, all massed and seething like pitbulls headbutting a door over and over again. Can Lambert's Lions hold on and scrape into the endgame lottery? I have to suggest not. I have to do this, for it is a lifestyle choice.

But we'll not give up until the gates have been slammed shut and the disinfectant pours into the Valley End like a justice tsunami. Nine games to go, four of them cup finals, two of them charity games, one of them a World Cup qualifier and the last pair are Schoolboy Internationals. The power and the glory, the power and the glory.

Money For Nothing

2007-02-22T16:30:00.000Z

The Meat Clinic has just received word from our commercial department that January 2007 was a record month for SMBU with more than 125,000 hits and 14,000 unique visits to Brill's premier website in the opening 31 days of the year.

At a time when attendances are dwindling at Adams Park, our power and influence is growing by the day. Are the rumours of a forthcoming significant cash investment into SMBU correct or not?

Well as the chief steward is increasingly saying to his staff on matchdays this season, "Watch this space".

Love Spreads

2007-02-21T17:07:00.000Z

There was a furious row at the Meat Clinic this morning when two of our customers refused to pay for their meat after a dispute that threatened to spiral out of control. This what happened:

Yesterday: We announced that we'd be selling some cheap mutton, a delicious cut from a sheep that I'm proud to say was once a personal friend (before I shot it). The only clause was that it had to be stored in a different carrier bag from normal as the Chinnor cash-and-carry had run out of our specially designed ones, (They were introduced in 1990 to little acclaim but have grown ever more popular amongst the hill-proles) and we were saving the few that we had left for a special occasion.

This morning: After selling a good few slices of succulent mutton to a cheering public, a brick came tinkling through the window with some paper attached to it, by way of a band. It read "this is not meat, this is not even ligaments, this is nothing to us. Where are our carrier bags?".

Eventually we found the culprits, for they were stood outside shouting at anyone going into the shop saying that unless the meat was transported home in an official Meat Clinic Bag, then the flesh they had purchased would turn into maggots and that any sauce poured onto the meat would taste like a rectal prolapse.

Such are the vagaries of running a small business in Brill these days, but we will not be bowed or cudgelled.

Mute Witness

2007-02-19T16:52:00.000Z

As the mayhem furore over the non-event of the Gigg Lane kit decision rumbles on it is surprising that no-one has picked up on the fact that the hated win at Bury was Wycombe's eighth of the season, more than they have collected in the cursed environs of Adams Park this term.

This is the third campaign in a row where the team has been more effective away from south Buckinghamshire and such a trend demands an explanation. The reason is simple, the karma and lay lines and atmosphere at Wycombe have been damaged to such an extent that it may now be irreparable. From the outrage of the Curseway sponsorship to the ticket pricing specifically designed to make casual fans feel uncomfortable and like a sex pest, the matchday experience at Wycombe has gone from being above average to as much fun as a kick in the septum.

If you can muster the $388 it now costs to just enter the worst part of the ground, the Drone Army's passionless spittle spion kop, then you will experience an atmosphere so quiet you can literally hear your hair growing and your arteries getting clogged up. Occasionally the quiet will be broken by a tractor dumping some chemicals into a bonepit in the field behind or by the screech of the referees whistle as someone does something not 100% honest but mostly you will feel alone. Alone.

In the search for a family-based support base, the club have now banned any fans who have not given birth or fathered a fat child in the last four years, and rumours persist that next season the entire Woodlands stand will be given over to the under sevens, with just one executive box (with broken lights) for childless men. The Meat Clinic is not against children, just as it prefers lamb to mutton, but as the crowd dwindles and Wycombe fail to win at home once more, there has to be a new course of action.

We need a King Herod to cleanse our ground of its zest for youth and we need some 4-1 home wins and some whooping and jeering in deep voices.

Hairshirt

2007-02-18T13:46:00.000Z

The Meat Clinic was stunned this week to learn that a certain cabal of Wycombe supporters were enraged by the fact that the team wore one if its alternative kits at Bury yesterday.

Quite simply, the Bury home kit and the Wycombe home kit clash, despite the fact that the Shake Shakers wore their first choice at Adams Park earlier in the season. But two wrongs don't make a right and it is little short of ridiculous that some howling glumsters maintain that yesterday's decision is an arrow into the heart of the club's heritage.

They are their own worst enemies as there are plenty of occasions when Wycombe have changed unnecessarily, so to complain this time weakens the argument and makes them look ridiculous. To compound the error, rumours abound that some fans did not celebrate the Wycombe goals yesterday, so twisted with rage and hatred were they. If you're going to make the grimy trip to north Manchester then you might as dig in and enjoy the cake.

Sadly it seems agendas are being wielded to the detriment of the team. Who needs enemies with friends like these?

Fat Children

2007-02-08T11:37:00.000Z

You'd better hope the snow piles up so high you'll need to dig your plump wailing mother out of the bath this weekend, for if the Wycombe versus Notts County league game goes ahead then only one outcome is possible. Snivelling defeat for the Bucks Bottlers.

Harsh, you are thinking as you nod your way through another pain au chocolat and touch your balls, but you are wrong. This is not a harsh judgement, this is cold hard icy FACT. Wycombe may have impressed bored newspaper reporters when being dismantled by a disinterested Chelsea side but when it comes to the bread and butter, the pain est fromage, the jelly and ice cream, Wycombe Wanderers have been little short of appalling this season.

Time and again the big game comes and the team meekly rolls over and waits for the kick in the skull and the spleen to rupture. And here is the evidence:

Yes, just four points from 10 games against the other seven teams "gunning" for promotion, is it any wonder that attendances at Adams Park are falling like a drunk on the snowy road to Aston Clinton? Hey, opposition, come down to Bucks and fill your boots. We'll be the team preening like smacked-up swans just because we played on the same pitch as Michael Ballack last month.

The frustration will go on, I'm afraid, and there is nothing that we the punters can do about it, other than request that our details are removed from the hated CRM machine, our pallid minds erased and every scarf we've ever owned chucked into the furnace at a BUPA hospital.

Wycombe 0 Notts County 2.

Disappear Here

2007-02-05T17:55:00.000Z

So the rabid have passed judgement on Ricardo Batista already, deriding him as an Iberian maniac for launching one into the howling faces of the predictably racist Wrexham fans on Saturday. He was subsequently shown a red card, and will serve a generic ban, but this is not enough for some Wycombe supporters, and you know in your heart that the Bucks Free Press will be filled with letters this week, blaming Batista for crimes as varied as their minds are staid.

Or perhaps they won't, for the season seems to be drifting to a dull conclusion already, one that even wins in north Wales cannot remedy. Like a poor Sunday lunch the day after you've ridden a horse to a trophy we are already thinking of pre-season 2007 and the free transfers from Grays and Newry City. Can something happen between now and May? Have you even seen the fixture list?

And to cap it all off, tonight on national television Kevin Betsy will be jinking and probing in the reeking colours of Bristol City as we kneel in front of the screen and let the teardrops splish-splash onto the carpet stains. Now I know how the mentally ill felt when Lady Diana died.

Green Fields

2007-01-24T14:20:00.000Z

The snowstorm was flowering in the distance as the final whistle blew at Stamford Bridge and ended an era for Wycombe Wanderers, one that perhaps John Gorman was watching on television, well let's hope he was anyway. For Tuesday January 23 2007 was the final giant flourish of The Project, that madcap, electric dream that pulled us in and threw us around like popcorn in an 1980s microwave.

From the strength of Antwi, to the poise of Oakes, from the delight of Betsy to the harrowed screech of Mooney, to the beasting drive of Easter, this was Honest John's team's final show of defiance before the vultures and the knackers yard comes to claim them all, leaving us with nothing but memories that we can never really articulate.

Of course Paul Lambert has added his own ideas to this team, as well as new players who gave just as much as everyone else in this blessed, hated, cup run. But like Bob Paisley winning countless pots with Shankley's team, Lambert knows that it was what he was bequeathed that actually gave him last night. The sight of Kevin Betsy, trotting forward on his toes, his shoulders twisting like a romantic fairground operator was haunting last night, everything he did bathed in the knowledge that soon he will be gone, like the glamorous woman who got a job with the Avon and then ran away to Crete.

Promotion was blown in 2006 but this team was far more suited to one-off moments of magic, and this season they dominated Fulham and Charlton and even Chelsea in parts, they dominated them as much as they floundered against the rough boys of League Two with their flat banks of four and their assistant manager in shorts. This cup run was the true flowering of what John Gorman envisioned, and as it fades into the memory we will all give thanks in our own twisted way.

But like waking up on New Years Day with blood on your ankles and empty pockets, the harsh reality of the winter sun now faces the team and its supporters. The spine will be gone soon, and though replacements will come in, they will probably be of a sterner hue, with the aim of combating the stone age netherlads of League Two. If the club is serious about rising out of the bottom division then our gorgeous waves of artists and thinkers must be sacrificed. Pragmatism led to concrete council buildings when we all wanted the Parthenon or Brill Hill itself.

So as we push out to sea, with our petty, pretty belongings laid amongst our feet, we can be grateful for what we saw, what we heard and and what we said. These were the salad days and we'll all raise a glass of tomato juice sometime in the future, somewhere where the trombone player honks against the eastern breeze.

Death Of A Disco Dancer

2007-01-14T18:20:00.000Z

The Meat Clinic was left aghast this week to learn that Wycombe's squad will be taken on a guided tour of Stamford Bridge this week, where no doubt the club will be offered gas money to guarantee they do not put in too much effort in the second leg. Even if no actual blood cash changes hands, there is no reason for the squad to be taken on a star-fucking jamboree around the stadium; it will merely inforce juddering inferiority complexes and end any chance of an upset on January 23.

Thankfully the league campaign, away from the vile corruption that winds through the top division like tapework through the Drone Army's intestines, is back on track, thanks to a late winner at Chester City. By all accounts it was a wretched game, livened only by vultures from the Welsh mountains that had flown into the town and were feasting on the corpse of Grange Hill.

Nonetheless, the feeling that evil racist Mark Wright must have experienced as Lovely Gemma knocked one home is something to be cherished, and hopefully it will bring forward a deep depression for him, ending in a squalid motel and an elastic band tied round his arms and legs.

Under The Western Freeway

2007-01-12T15:44:00.000Z

There was a moment in the second half when Geremi (Njitap to his chums) went to defend a corner and got roundly booed by the braying, seething mass of the Drone Army. It seemed odd, as the Cameroonian had not done anything particularly odious during the game but in truth it was a sign of the Wycombe crowd's inferiority complex, booing merely because they were afraid and awed by these famous names strutting on the same OS grid location as Mickey Nuttell. They were like Gavrilo Princip unleashing into Ferdinand's chops, terrified of the multi-shimmered complexity of celebrity.

Thankfully the Wycombe players did not show such terror and in truth they bossed the second half like it was a B&B game against Kingshill Academicals. Chelsea didn't do themselves any favours by turning up in a white kit that made them look like Macclesfield or Gateshead from a distance. Outfought in south Buckinghamshire, even Charles I avoided that fate.

As the mist rolled down from the drug deals on Booker airfield and big game hunters prowled the woods, we kept the tie alive for another two weeks and a third League Cup (it's not the Milk Cup, that ended in 1986) trip into London this season awaits. All we can pray for is that vile wolf-haired prick Rob "One Cap John cheers" Lee is kept away from the Sky coverage. Piling back into the Meat Clinic television room at midnight on Wednesday, it was distasteful to see the greying traitor giving it plenty on national TV. "Lovely little club," he sneered, as a revolving badge with I HAVE MEDIA COMMITMENTS spun on his suit jacket. Six months without you Wolfy and we're one step away from a cup final, thanks for that.

Elsewhere, the strutting of the tallest East German since that girl with a penis left this contingent with muck on our brows. As the nationals were keen to point out the next day, Ballack earns more in ten minutes than an entire factory in Tyne & Wear makes in 45 years, and he has spent the first portion of his monster cash on a war memorial for that beady fella off 'Allo 'Allo right in the middle of Sloane Square. Political correctness gone mad and then some.

So now Wycombe head off to Chester this weekend, which is now as appetizing as a deep fried scarf. Will the players be able to muster any semblance of effort when the cruel spectre of injury and suspension for the BIG GAME looms? I doubt it. We can all remember the league games in early 2001 and this time won't be any different. Still, we'll soon have enough loans and new signings to put out a specialist league team and keep the NICE LADS fresh for the mauling on the Kings Road. Roll Out The Barrels.

Elephant Shoe

2007-01-09T23:20:00.000Z

We are victims of cliche, newspapers trotting out lines about Lambert's Champions League medal being sold to men who paved his driveway and how Ivor Beeks' brown coat has done more to heal racial divides in Europe than anything else. Steve Brown has been interviewed and has managed to avoid saying that referee Steve Bennett is a hulking great sex pest with a whistle where a truck driver's pride and joy should be. Even the stories about Sergio Torres peeling the eyelids off animals so that Boots could test a new range of shampoo has been revived, with the midfield icon recounting his childhood in Argentina where his peasant father used to charge tourists to draw pictures of the Belgrano in brick dust.

Meanwhile every Chelsea player is a billionaire and their urine flows upwards towards the international space station, and there is a special branch of Catholicism for each of their pretty little heads.

And while they are deified and Wycombe are patronised, there is precious little comment about how the Premiership champions use techniques such as blood spinning, a practice that would get you thrown out of the Olympic Games or the Long Crendon Steeplechase. They march into battle with oxygen flowing through their skulls and if a wolf is sighted in the woods behind the ground tomorrow night, then it will have no chance against the eternally youthful Pensioners, as they are filled with liquid nitrogen, with NASA's finest.

We are filled with nothing more than hope and the whispers of our minds as the famous young ground hosts what can only be a disappointment, surely.

End Of A Century

2006-12-30T11:56:00.000Z

Another year in the epoch of men comes to an end and while there are still bones propping up doorways in the Meat Clinic, the SMBU end of year awards will be doled out. Happy New Year to all our readers.

Ian Stonebridge Conventional Hair Award
Sergio Torres began the year by banging home his first goal for the club and ended it with short hair and an injury record to rival the Devon Michael Owen himself. News that the Argentine Clementine has started to regrow his mop represents Wycombe's best chance of promotion in 2007.

Ivor Beeks Self-Publicist Award
Once again, the main main Robber Beeks wins the award. Barely seen all year other than on CCTV, he popped up on the pitch at Charlton in his vile brown coat, claiming credit for a win masterminded by Paul Lambert and funded by Steve Hayes. Nice one Beeksy.

Lazarus Revival Award
Alan Hutchinson's media profile has suffered in recent years as the blasted internet has triumphed over phonelines that cost 45p a minute and rape phonecards your mother gave you in case you missed the school bus. But by forging a genuinely amusing double act with Paul Lambert, Hutchinson has seen off his executioners and is now installed permanently at the training ground like some sort of wild-haired sage.

Drone Army A NEW LOW Award
Consistency was the keyword from the Drone Army in 2006 as they maintained a level of squalor from January to December. Abusing children at Swindon, travelling in numbers to Milton Keynes, voting to sell off the ground name again for £8.99, remembering Mark Philo's goal at Sheffield Wednesday (sic), the list was virtually endless. Can they keep it up in 2007? It looks odds on from here.

Grey Haired Media Prick Award
When John Gorman was sacked in the summer, Rob Lee wasted little time in telling everyone how he could not wait to leave the club. "I don't play for Wycombe Wanderers, I play for John Gorman" opined the wolf-haired prick, shortly before disappearing from view. I'd be loyal if Gorman had given me an undeserved England cap but Lee is a no-mark who can be filed alongside Ray Wilkins in the shameful Wycombe ex-internationals folder.

Marketing Disaster Of The Year
There were some heady brainwaves at Adams Park this season, such as the chance to get 20p off a pie if you bought 17 replica shirts and a new club shop with more Wasps in it than the Marsh Gibbon insect zoo. But first prize must go to whoever thought Wycombe's play-off campaign would be improved by handing out plastic tubes and encouraging the fans to clout them like a special needs kid in a drumming school. Shamed on national television, we were the shitty Angel Delight after the gourmet FA Cup final.

Self-Justifying Idiocy Award
In the weeks leading up to the away game at the Franchise, a series of Wycombe fans claimed that it was vital that they travelled to the National Hockey Stadium as the team needed our support. A typical claim was "it's much better if we go to the game and cheer on the lads to the three points!" Well Wycombe fans did travel and were there to see the team get gubbed 3-1. Conclusion, support means nothing so don't sell your principles for a gash day out in the midlands.

Time After Time After Time

2006-12-27T21:10:00.000Z

The papers may praise Wycombe's players for playing well once every three weeks but the truth is that promotion is slipping away like a crushed dog on a railway line. Titles and promotion are won in mini-leagues made up of the contenders and this season the Mighty Chairboys (tm) are falling short every time. In six games against promotion rivals, Wycombe have gained just one point and leaked 12 goals. Even the single point came as a result of a scrappy last-minute equaliser that was ridiculously praised, like a fancy wallpaper covering up a bullet hole.

As Swindon and even the wretched Franchise cope admirably with their battles for glory, Wycombe fade away, unless of course the game is in the League Cup and there is a chance for a transfer away from the club in due course. These players bottled it last year and we in the Meat Clinic can see no reason why they will not do so again this season.

Our heroes are made of glass and they are teetering on the edge of reason. Can we cope with being let down yet again? Unlikely.

Screaming In The Trees

2006-12-27T21:03:00.000Z

Vile news from Swindon where as Wycombe succumbed to their usual Boxing Day defeat, the hated Drone Army were witnessed abusing an eight-year old boy simply because he supported the other team. Our Meat Clinic spy noted that a grown man was seen shouting "do the cunt" at the terrified child, a definitive new low for the window-licking retards that follow Wycombe Wanderers.

Don't let the sight of 4,500 happy clappers at the Valley confuse you, Wycombe's support has hit new lows this season and perhaps the PLC's devotion to their sinister CRM system could be used to smoke these apes out. Not content with trekking up to Franchise to support their team (good job lads, those three points could be vital in May), they are now abusing small children.

This is the season of goodwill and yet the Drone Army have shown more cruelty to the young than even King Herod did. We can only pray that a reformed bunch of Chelsea Headhunters shatter their skulls like walnuts against a wailing wall. How full of shame we are, how full of idiots we are.

Lift Your Skinny Arms Like Antennas To Heaven

2006-12-18T23:45:00.000Z

Enough has been said about Wanderers' ill-starred trip to Milton Keynes at the weekend, though it is fair to say the club will not be going there again. The large numbers that turned out to support the team upset even the most crooked and capitalist members of the Football League board and sources deep within that organisation have indicated that next season, should there be a fixture between the teams, then it will be played behind closed doors, for everyone's sakes.

That said, the thought of the Wycombe "supporters" yelping like haggard mules in a two-bob hockey station did bring joy to my heart on Saturday as I didn't spend good money to help something evil (unless you count ETA as evil, which some people do).

Tomorrow sees a happier event, when the wretched scabs of Wycombe's fanbase will join forces with the great and the good and head to Charlton's The Valley to see the team take on Charlton's Charlton Athletic for a place in the League Cup semi-final, stage of kings (level 32).

And it comes down to this: would you take a season in which Colchester United got promoted to the Premiership and Reading got into the Champions League and Oxford won the Conference, would you take that season if Wycombe won the League Cup. Straight between the eyes, two barrels, full frontal. Of course you would, it's worth sending a wagon of gold to your enemies if it allows you to enjoy the feast at Beltane.

None of those things will come true, but deep down they could and that's what makes us wake up sweating in the night, hand blindly reaching for the Plaster of Paris and the netting.