Since leaving Nottingham 3 years ago, I haven't played 90 minutes of football. I trained in vain with Marlow town when I lived in Buckinghamshire, but they were too 'hoity toity', what with their first team playing in the Rymans league. I then signed on for a team in Maidenhead called Riverside. That was equally unsuccessful as they were a church side playing in a church league, praying before each game and no swearing on the pitch, please. Didn't really fit in there.

Then when I moved up to Edinburgh, nearly 2 years ago, I went training with Edinburgh City a few times. They were a very good side, though I honestly think I could have held a place down in the team. They were very cliquey, though and I think it would have been difficult getting past that and breaking up their little gang.

This year is different. I've found a team that seem to be a good set of lads and are in desperate need of a bit of vision on the field of play. Someone with guile, panache and cunning. Someone with the ability to control the flow of the game and split any defence with a killer ball, just when the opposition least expect it. I told them I didn't know anyone like that, but that I would happily sign on for them as I had my boots and shinpads in my bag. They took this as next best thing and signed me up immediately.

After a couple of training sessions were cancelled due to lack of numbers and three games on the trot were called off to the dismal Scottish weather, I figured that team morale would be so low that I would have no trouble impressing them. And I was proved right during my first proper training session. I scored a couple of belters and controlled the game we played with even distribution of the ball and a calm and conservative approach to the whole match. This won over the manager and he had little choice but to include me in his first XI.

'You look good', he said to me in the shower afterwards 'Can you pass the soap?'

'Well?', I said 'How d' you like my tackle?'

'I'm impressed.' was his reply 'I'm also impressed with your long balls'

And as the conversation went on deep into the night, it was decided that I would play as Centre Forward in the next game.

The next game came along and with a vastly depleted squad due to injury and disease, the manager wasn't looking too confident. 'I want to see you shoot today.' he said.

I reminded him that we weren't in the shower any longer and I could see the embarrassment on his face. I felt for him. But he reminded me that we weren't in the shower any longer, so I put my shorts on and marched out onto the pitch.

It was a bitterly cold afternoon and the game got off to a bitterly disappointing start. The defence were torn apart within 3 minutes and the makeshift puppet that we had in goal could do nothing to prevent the opposition taking a deserved lead.

Seventeen minutes later and 'Pinocchio' was picking the ball out of the back of the net for the fourth time. Not even halfway through the first half and we were 4-0 down! Still, it wasn't over yet and if I could squeeze a rocket shot past their keeper then maybe that would lift the lads and we could fight our way back from the most depressing of circumstances.

The rest of the first half was slightly better, though not much. However, we didn't concede again and actually finished the half the stronger of the two teams. Honest, we did!

The second half started well and within 10 minutes, miraculously we'd pulled a goal back. After some good work by our midfield the ball had deflected off the back of a defender and given us our first corner of the game. I took a position at the near post, hoping to use my bulk to block the keeper's view. The corner was swung in towards the penalty spot and our fearless centre half rose like a salmon to head the ball towards me. I turned on a Scottish sixpence to produce, what can only be described as the most perfect left-footed half volley you're ever likely to see outside of Villa Park. the sheer power of my cross-cum-shot befuddled the defence and left the keeper bedazzled and confused. This allowed our left winger to nip in like a whippet and toe poke the ball over the line. It was probably going in anyway due to the ferocious spin I'd put on the ball on purpose, but he had to make sure.

That made it 4-1 and you could feel the energy in the air. Could this be the comeback of all comebacks? Could we achieve the impossible? Could we really pull this one out of the bag? I could feel it! We could all feel it! We were pumped up and ready for action!

We lost 8-1.

All in all not a successful first game. But I see a bunch of boys here that need moulding, caressing and with a bit of love and tenderness they can be formed into fine upstanding young citizens who'll grace the green of any football pitch. And certainly shower with the best of them. You mark my words and watch this space!!!!

Look out for my next installment.....FOOTBALL IN PRISON!