I would like to tell you the story of a good friend of mine, who goes by many names. Some call him Nanny Goodtoes, others call him Barry Greenteeth. Some call him Wator Gatorface, others name him Steve The Buzzard. I call him by his mothers birth name though, Johnny Curtains.
Me and Johnny met a while back at random at an old antique selling event and auction. I was talking to David Dickinson about an old priceless antique I just sold for a small fortune, and as he was yelling out certain catchphrases such as “Cheap as chips!”, and “And THAT, is the real deal” at no one in particular, I felt someone tap my tensed bicep. I saw the man who I turned to face was impressed with what he saw and I enquired about his name after he thanked me for letting him embrace my strong arm as my hair blew in the wind like a flag at half mast on Thursday morning. After our initial introduction, I shared with him some Lemon Pie I happened to carry with me on my person at all antique events, and we got down to business. He was a keen lad with a thirst for knowledge and I could sense in his tiny semi circular bulging eyes that he was desperate to leanr from me. He asked me where I came across this most valuable of antiques, to which I replied by taking him to Chicken Cottage in Stevenage and proceeding to explain how it came to me over a Chicken Cottage Hunger Buster meal which was on offer at 18 Euros and 17 cents. Bargain.
It all started in 1938 and a man named Adolf Hitler, I don’t know if you have heard of him, and his local 5 a side team were still vexed about World War One so he decided the only way to exact his revenge was to join the local league at the local indoor 5 a side pitches with the local boys and beat the local teams in their local area, bearing in mind he kept it all on a local scale, very locally was his location in his local town of Hannover, he knew exactly which local lads to recruit. They payed the joining fee (45 Yen) and soon they found out they needed a bit of help after being drubbed constantly and starting the season very poorly (11 0-0 draws and 3 losses). After a lengthy debate with his fellow team mates, Hitler decided to enlist the help of the local wizard who was casually walking by in his Levis jeans and Ralph Lauren polo shirt, and happened to be a badger. The Magical badger blessed Hitler with a right foot even better than a centipede with a muscular condition with Gola football boots on. This was to be indefinitely, as long as young Adolf did not shave the new magical hair growing out of his unusually wide size 5 foot for the rest of his life. The badger explained in the language of love, Vietnamese, that his ability came from the magical strands that now sprung out of his right foot like a tuft of reeds in a Florida swamp, and to cut or shave them would result in instant loss of his now tremendous ability to command a 5 a side pitch like E.T can command a flying bicycle.
Hitlers team slayed all who faced them, winning their first game 2-0 and to repay the super funky magic badger with a keen fasion sense, he enlisted his services once more as the goalkeeper for their now successful 5 a side team on a 2 year contract. After reaching the Hannover 5 a side cup final against FC Jesus, Hitler predicted an easy win after a 3-0 drubbing of them in the league just 16 weeks prior (Adolf bagged a hat trick and the badger saved a penalty after a hugely controversial hand ball decision). The one thing he could not have predicted? Me. I had watched FC Jesus for some time, lurking in the back of the stands like a young wasp, circling a dandelion, and decided I should join them as a ringer in the final. I donned my best Jewish outfit, hat included to fit in with the rest and sported my fake designer generic beard to match. I appreciated FC Jesus’ attacking style and they have 2 flair players and I knew I must be part of this new revolution in 5 a side football. I made an instant impact in the match scoring 6 goals in the space of 2 and a quarter minutes, and we won the game 74-4. Hitler was furious that he lost the cup even though he scored all but one of their 4 goals (the other came from a cheaply defended corner when Hitlers friend Rory Delap latched onto his own throw in and scored with a debatable header/hand ball). During his frenzy over the loss, Adolf decided the best course of action was to declare war on the world and to persecute the Jews. I could think of worse punishments but Hitler was not one to think on his feet, he let his feet do the talking normally. By 1939, the world was once again at war. I started that war with my suave and dandy display, running around the 5 a side pitch like a sweet deranged kite. I promptly ended the war in the winter of ‘45 when I shaved Hitlers sweet right foot with my gillete mach 3 and kept his hairs in a box made from the fossilized saliva of a Mongolian Ox. As a result of his horrific shaving injuries, Hitler died and the war was won. I did not want the fame or money so I made up a story that Hitler killed himself in a bunker to credit the allies and take away the pressures of fame from my doorstep. After recognising my noble deed, the FA allowed me to continue playing football but at professional level for Burton Albion and I went on to win the World Cup with England in 1966, I hope you saw me running down the wings like a silky bat.
Now Hitler may have been a psychotic racist tyrant who was the main perp in the murder of 6 million Jews but he could grace the 5 a side pitch like a pidgeon, and I will never forget he was one of the best 5 a side players to ever live. Johnny Curtains was amazed at my bravery and to find out I had murdered in cold, pink, liquid blood, the all time great of the 5 a side scene in Hannover. He was so amazed in fact, he eventually choked on his Chicken Cottage Hunger Buster meal whilst eating a mouldy chip and died to death.
The moral of the story is: Always use a Gilette Mach 3 (sold at all major retailers) to defeat a tyrant or give someones feet a good trimming.
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