My dream football team — football_team 🇬🇧

Matchday 1 — vs Paris Saint-Glinglin

1-4 (L)

GOAL! Paris Saint-Glinglin have done the damage! Their number nine wheeled away in celebration.

Tutankhamun sprints the full length of the pitch from his six-yard box to join the pile-up. The bundle forms on Tutankhamun, you can't see him under the pile, just studs sticking out. All four subs have invaded the pitch. The ref has given up blowing his whistle.

Long ball from Elvis Presley to Aristotle, travels like a letter in the post. Flawless change of wing. Aristotle reaches the byline and cuts it back for Elvis Presley arriving from the second wave. The military personnel deflects the ball into his own net! In that position, this is the nightmare you have the night before a match. The ball bounces off him and lobs the keeper. NOOOO, this is CRUEL for him!

Elvis Presley mimes a boxer knocking out his opponent, throws two imaginary uppercuts, fells an invisible foe. Vlad the Impaler raises Elvis Presley's arm like a referee declaring the winner. Tutankhamun plays the man on the canvas. Full show.

Lovely on the eye but completely sterile, no penetration at all. The player winds up and fires, wide but close. In that position, keep pulling the trigger, the goal is coming. We're in a proper lull here, the game's gone to sleep. Diagonal from Mickey Mouse to Jesus Christ, surgical stuff, the ball cuts out six opponents in one go. The messiah finds Aristotle in the pocket with a ball into space. Understated quality, no fuss, but devastatingly effective.

Vlad the Impaler launches a forty-yard crossfield pass to Mickey Mouse, ambitious, clean, and it comes off beautifully. Mickey Mouse scuffs the pass, the ball spins off the boot and heads towards the dugout. Lonely moment. The player trips the opponent to halt the break. Comes with the territory in that position, sometimes you just have to foul. The player floats his free kick into the danger zone. In that position, that quality of delivery from dead balls is an absolute weapon.

They're turning this into a siege, the keeper's going to be busy. BLOCKED! Mickey Mouse hits it hard but the defender stands firm and deflects it for a corner. The military personnel sees his cross deflected behind for a corner. It happens, but you have got to keep delivering from that side. Monster clearance from Mickey Mouse! He has hit it like he wanted to send the ball to the moon. The danger is gone.

The keeper slams {his} gloves against the wall: "I cannot do it all on my own! Where is the protection?!" Elvis Presley takes the hit without responding. Mickey Mouse drops {his} head. The gaffer intervenes: "Nobody is pointing fingers. We are ALL in this mess together. Now we get ourselves out of it. Together." Despite the wages, Elvis Presley insists on a yearly caravan holiday in Skegness with the extended family. At 91 and 180, the lad folding into a caravan shower is described by teammates as 'physically heroic.' And now, our TV game show Deal or No Meal Deal! To win a signed Greggs loyalty card, text 8811 and answer this question: 'What is the shelf life of a broken promise in Scunthorpe?' Jimmy Neutron trots out with a fresh shirt and a look that could curdle milk. Whatever happened in that dressing room has put fire in {his} belly.

Tutankhamun takes his time and plays it short to Aristotle. The press is on but the keeper does not flinch. Royal interception from Aristotle! He positions himself in the passing corridor and plucks the ball out of thin air. Quick counter, the striker is in alone but his shot ends up in row Z.

GOAL for Paris Saint-Glinglin! Their striker has slotted it home, nothing our keeper could do.

Tutankhamun climbs onto Vlad the Impaler's shoulders, arms spread, like a living statue in the centre circle. Tutankhamun circles round them pretending to take photos with an imaginary phone. The Kop chants 'Champions' at full volume.

Dull as ditchwater, the lads look like they're on a Sunday stroll. Possession for possession's sake, not a single cross or shot. Brilliant opening from Julius Caesar for Aristotle, frees up the entire left flank.

Smooth transition from Mr. Bean to Thomas Tuchel, no delay, the game keeps flowing. Thomas Tuchel sends the game to the other side with a long pass to Jesus Christ. Simple in concept, masterful in execution. Inch-perfect cross from Jesus Christ, the ball clips just over the keeper's hands and finds Elvis Presley at the back post.

GOAL! Paris Saint-Glinglin strike! Their attacker has ghosted past everyone. Too easy.

Tutankhamun runs along the touchline cupping his ear to hear the fans louder. The Kop explodes, throws up an impromptu tifo. Thomas Tuchel joins him, both pumping fists in rhythm. The gaffer wipes an actual tear off his cheek on the bench.

Dead time on the pitch, both sides happy to keep it ticking over. The player opens up to Vlad the Impaler on the far side. That is exactly the kind of pass he is paid to deliver. One touch football: Vlad the Impaler to Thomas Tuchel, faster than the opposition can think.

Lightning counter but the attacker shoots when he should have passed. The polymath cuts open the lines with an inch-perfect pass for Jimmy Neutron. When you have got that kind of vision, you change a game in a heartbeat.

GOAAAL! Paris Saint-Glinglin score! That's a hammer blow, the fans are stunned into silence.

Solidarity move: Tutankhamun grabs Jimmy Neutron who made the assist, drags him by the neck to the main stand. 'HIM! IT'S HIM!' The stadium gives Jimmy Neutron a standing ovation right through to the restart.

Brilliant tackle from Julius Caesar! Slides in, wins the ball, and comes away clean. That is textbook defending. Julius Caesar picks out Jesus Christ with a short pass along the deck, the ball glides across the surface like it is on ice. A real dead period, the ball's being passed around with no intent at all. They've got the ball but it's troubling absolutely nobody.

Jesus Christ sits in the dugout after everyone's gone inside, watching the empty pitch. Julius Caesar reappears with two cups of tea. They sit in silence, sipping, staring at the grass. "Same again Tuesday?" asks Julius Caesar. Jesus Christ almost smiles. Almost. Football goes on. And here's the answer to Deal or No Meal Deal! Gerald Musty-Carpet, from Stoke-on-Trent, correctly answered the question, which was 'What is the shelf life of a broken promise in Scunthorpe?'. The answer was of course roughly six weeks, or until the next council election, whichever comes first. Gerald wins this magnificent signed Greggs loyalty card! Don't touch that remote! Up next: 'Antiques Roadshow: Nan's Attic — is that vase worth thousands or did she nick it from a Toby Carvery in 1987?'

Matchday 2 — vs México No-Era-Penal

1-2 (L)

What a ball from Jesus Christ! It nutmegs a defender on the way through and Vlad the Impaler is away on his own. That is velvet. OHHH the GOAL from Vlad the Impaler! On the gift from Pope Francis, he opens up his foot and sends the ball to the far post. SUMPTUOUS!

Jesus Christ and Thomas Tuchel do the rehearsed move from the last party: imaginary top hat lift, military salute, spin. Flawless. Tutankhamun arrives late, misses his cue, flubs it spectacularly. The crowd in bits.

GOAAAL for México No-Era-Penal! What a howler at the back, that's been gifted to them.

Julius Caesar launches it to Aristotle on the opposite wing. Raw, direct, and devastatingly effective. Oh what a challenge! Aristotle goes to ground, wins the ball, and is up on his feet in a flash. Top drawer. Quick exchange between Aristotle and Jesus Christ, triangles all over the pitch, the opposition is chasing shadows. The messiah roasts the full-back on the wing. That kind of acceleration in that role creates overloads and turns matches on their head. Good run from Jesus Christ who crosses to the near post for Jimmy Neutron. The defender is beaten to it.

Quick throw from Tutankhamun to Vlad the Impaler out wide, sharp and clever distribution. Off we go. Lovely anticipation from the actor who cuts out the opposition pass. In his position, that kind of interception is worth as much as a goal. What frustration, they were flying and the final pass goes nowhere. Thomas Tuchel catches everyone off guard with a solo burst, he is unstoppable. Thomas Tuchel tries his luck and BOOOOM it flies... wide. Brushed the post though, nearly had it.

Switch from Elvis Presley! The ball arcs over the midfield and Thomas Tuchel collects it on the other side. Stretching the play. Thomas Tuchel looks up and swings in a floated cross, Jesus Christ rises among the defenders. Jesus Christ tries to get up for the duel but the attacker beats him to the header. The timing was off.

The gaffer points at Mickey Mouse: "You are coming off at sixty minutes. I need someone out there who actually wants to play football, not a passenger." Mickey Mouse clenches {his} jaw. The room goes cold. Being publicly called out in front of your mates is the worst feeling in football. We can exclusively reveal that Mickey Mouse, standing 180, owns a pair of lucky pants that he's worn under his kit for three consecutive seasons. They're held together by hope and a single thread, but the results speak for themselves. And now, our TV game show Pointless But True! To win a Wetherspoons voucher for 47p, text 1515 and answer this question: 'In which decade was the gravy boat officially classified as a vessel?' The PA announces the restart and the stadium comes alive. Aristotle is already in position, feet planted, shoulders square. Locked and loaded.

The player legs it all the way back and cuts out the attack. That kind of sacrifice in that position is what wins you matches. Jimmy Neutron wraps himself around the opponent like a boa constrictor. Free kick, card shown. Yellow card. Jimmy Neutron committed the professional foul without a moment's hesitation. Jimmy Neutron strikes but the wall stands firm, it's blocked. Corner from Vlad the Impaler, the ball travels across the box but a defender clears at the far post.

On the corner from Mickey Mouse, Vlad the Impaler rises and powers his header but it goes over the bar. The actor throws it out to Mr. Bean, quick and clever. When your last line of defence plays this well with his feet, it changes everything. Mr. Bean gives it to Jesus Christ into feet, it is bread and butter but done with surgical precision. Jesus Christ rotates the play with an inch-perfect crossfield ball to Aristotle. The far side is completely deserted.

Blistering counter but the final touch is sorely lacking in quality. Elvis Presley sends Jimmy Neutron into acres of space with a clipped ball over the top. The defence turns, but it is way too late. The player misplaces his pass to Thomas Tuchel, the ball goes nowhere. Not his finest moment.

Short restart from the actor to Pope Francis, building out from the back. The modern keeper is basically an eleventh outfield player. Pope Francis aims for Aristotle but the ball is deflected off an opponent's foot. Pass cut out. Ball won, three passes, one shot, that's top-drawer transitional football. Mickey Mouse drops a lollipop in behind the defence, Elvis Presley read the play perfectly and finds himself one on one.

Every throw-in becomes a corner, every corner becomes a chance. WOOOW Pope Francis launches a missile! On target, the ball is fizzing but the keeper tips it around the post!

It's in the back of the net! México No-Era-Penal celebrate and our fans are gutted.

Tutankhamun climbs onto Mr. Bean's shoulders, arms spread, like a living statue in the centre circle. Tutankhamun circles round them pretending to take photos with an imaginary phone. The Kop chants 'Champions' at full volume.

Aggressive high press, the opposition keeper is already sweating. Pope Francis sprints at the defender and pinches the ball right off his toes. Aggressive pressing, decisive recovery. The chemist finds the gap that nobody else saw and puts Jimmy Neutron clean through. Pure genius from that position. He shapes up, he shoots... WHAT A HIT from Jimmy Neutron! On target but the keeper palms it onto the bar!

Loss against México No-Era-Penal and it stings. Julius Caesar still goes over to the travelling fans, hand on heart, mouthing "sorry" through the drizzle. Tutankhamun follows. The away end responds with a round of applause that almost makes it worse. These fans deserve better. And here's the answer to Pointless But True! Norman Pebbledash, from Stoke-on-Trent, correctly answered the question, which was 'In which decade was the gravy boat officially classified as a vessel?'. The answer was of course the 1960s, when the Royal Navy briefly commissioned HMS Brown Sauce. Norman wins this magnificent Wetherspoons voucher for 47p! Tonight's programming highlight: 'SAS: Who Dares Wins, but it's set in an Ikea on a Bank Holiday weekend.' Navigate the showroom. Survive the car park. Build the furniture. No one passes.

Matchday 3 — vs Casablanca Dima-Maghrib

1-3 (L)

Lovely interception from Jimmy Neutron, he anticipated the movement and cut off the pass before it reached its target. Ball won high, counter away, it's a proper turbo-charged break. What a nose for goal from Aristotle! On the rebound, he was on the prowl and places his boot in the right spot. GOAL!

Jimmy Neutron finds the TV camera and kisses it like a long-lost love. Mr. Bean plays the jealous partner alongside. The live broadcast lingers for eight solid seconds, the commentators crying with laughter. The memes are already circulating before kickoff resumes.

Tutankhamun launches it up the pitch, the ball drops on Pope Francis after a fifty-yard flight. Old school. Pope Francis springs up and wins the duel in the air against the towering forward. Timing and leap make all the difference. Pope Francis thumps the danger clear with a powerful boot, the ball sails the length of the pitch. The crowd roars, that is a soldier's work. Thomas Tuchel beats the attacker with a commanding header, he went up like a lift and came back down with the ball. The boss. Thomas Tuchel launches the ball into the stratosphere, panicked clearance but effective. The centre-back has done his duty.

Elastico from the polymath, the defender is bamboozled. That kind of showmanship in that role is the X-factor that makes the difference. Aristotle bombs down the right with a lightning acceleration, he is a rocket. Aristotle floats a cross in from the wing for Elvis Presley, the ball hangs in the box!

And there it is, Casablanca Dima-Maghrib score! The writing was on the wall after that pressure.

Tutankhamun mimes a boxer knocking out his opponent, throws two imaginary uppercuts, fells an invisible foe. Aristotle raises Tutankhamun's arm like a referee declaring the winner. Tutankhamun plays the man on the canvas. Full show.

Absolute PANDEMONIUM after Mickey Mouse's corner! Three shots blocked, the defense is under siege! Mickey Mouse throws himself at it and clears the ball just in time, he has saved the furniture with whatever was at hand. Back to the keeper for the fifteenth time, fans have had enough.

Tea cups everywhere. The gaffer has launched the lot. There is PG Tips running down the wall and broken ceramic on the floor. "That," he says, pointing at the mess, "is what our defensive shape looks like right now. An absolute disaster." Pope Francis stares at the carnage. Elvis Presley swallows hard. Nobody disagrees. Jesus Christ attempted a Jamie Oliver fifteen-minute meal that took the 2019-year-old two and a half hours and resulted in what witnesses described as 'a crime against pasta.' The smoke alarm went off thrice. And now, our TV game show Pointless But True! To win a potato peeler from Argos, text 9922 and answer this question: 'Which household appliance became mayor of Stoke-on-Trent in 2003?' The dressing rooms empty and the pitch fills up again. Tutankhamun does a few quick stretches on the touchline before jogging into position. Ready for war.

It's there! Casablanca Dima-Maghrib hit the back of the net. Our goalkeeper was rooted to the spot.

Tutankhamun sprints to the corner flag and poses alongside it, arm around it like an old mate. Jesus Christ snaps the moment with an imaginary camera. Tutankhamun waits at the centre circle tapping his foot: 'ARE YOU LOT COMING OR WHAT?!' The chant kicks off.

Thomas Tuchel nudges the ball to Jesus Christ from the free kick, the wall has been beaten by guile. Just wide! Jesus Christ struck it well but lacked that tiny bit of precision. Sterile football, looks like a testimonial out there. Elvis Presley winds up and fires... into another dimension. The keeper didn't even blink.

The corner from Mickey Mouse picks out Mr. Bean in the box, glancing header but it drifts past the post. Aristotle hacks it clear in a panic, it is not pretty but it does the job! The match has gone stone cold, you could hear a pin drop. Superb diagonal from the polymath to Jimmy Neutron, the ball sails across the entire pitch. When you have got that wand of a foot, you use it.

Vicious tackle from Pope Francis, he's left the attacker in a heap on the floor. Booking for Pope Francis, studs up at chest height. That's borderline red, he's lucky. The free kick from Pope Francis is floated in, Julius Caesar makes his run to the back post. Phenomenal leap from Julius Caesar who wins the header without any contest whatsoever. The opponent does not exist in the air against him.

What a waste, the counter was a thing of beauty right up to the end. Elvis Presley tries to pick out Pope Francis on the flank but the pass is straight at a defender. Missed. Decisive interception from Jesus Christ who cuts out the opposition's attempt to build from the back. The ball was meant for a striker on the run, but Jesus Christ saw it all. The messiah shifts the point of attack with an inch-perfect crossfield pass to Mr. Bean. Pure quality, as per usual.

It's in! Casablanca Dima-Maghrib take the lead and our lot are shell-shocked.

Tutankhamun spots a kid in the crowd, locks eyes with him, tears off his shirt and hurls it over the barrier. The boy is sobbing. His mum is sobbing. The entire stand is sobbing. Pope Francis gives him a pat on the back. Everyone grew up a bit tonight.

Pope Francis plays off Aristotle, the return arrives right down the middle and Pope Francis is free as a bird. The chemist accelerates and flies down the channel. On that flank, a player with that speed changes everything. Pope Francis rolls it back across the turf, Thomas Tuchel is lurking in the box, ready to pounce.

Jesus Christ to Pope Francis, it is direct, it is crisp, the ball zips along the turf. Ball into space from Pope Francis, Thomas Tuchel just has to run onto it and collect. Simple and genius. Thomas Tuchel drills a low ball back across the face of goal, Vlad the Impaler is free inside the eighteen-yard box.

It's over and Casablanca Dima-Maghrib take the points. Jesus Christ shakes hands down the line on autopilot — grip, nod, move on, grip, nod, move on. Mickey Mouse walks straight past the mixed zone without looking sideways. The dressing room door closes with a thud that says everything. And here's the answer to Pointless But True! Pauline Drizzle-Hatch, from Barnsley, correctly answered the question, which was 'Which household appliance became mayor of Stoke-on-Trent in 2003?'. The answer was of course a Morphy Richards toaster, which won by a landslide and to this day holds the highest approval rating of any mayor in the city's history. Pauline wins this magnificent potato peeler from Argos! Stay tuned for: 'Grand Designs — Kevin McCloud watches a man build a shed that costs more than your house.' He will be over budget. He will cry. Kevin will narrate.

Matchday 4 — vs Dakar Teranga FC

1-0 (W)

Mickey Mouse lobs the back line with a sublime cross, Jesus Christ collects behind the defence. That is the match-winning ball. Acrobatic overhead from the messiah! GOAL! In that position, that is the kind of finish that wins you the Puskas Award. A PERFECT scissor kick, PERFECT execution, PERFECT goal!

Constant harassment, the opposition is always a yard off the pace. The military personnel does not let up and rips the ball from the opposition's feet. In that position, that kind of high defensive work is worth as much as an assist. Firm pass from Elvis Presley into Pope Francis, right into the boots. No waste.

Brilliant recovery from Jesus Christ, stops the opponent from getting a clear run at goal. Jesus Christ hauls the man down before he can play the through ball. Intelligent cynicism. The ref brandishes the yellow. Jesus Christ committed a premeditated foul to stop the fast break. The wall stops Jesus Christ's free kick! The defenders didn't budge, solid as a rock. Corner from Mickey Mouse well taken but the defence does its job, cleared comfortably.

Mickey Mouse aims the corner to the back post but it is headed clear by the defence. Jesus Christ clears with his right foot under heavy pressure, the ball flies into touch. No frills, just survival. Tutankhamun plays out from the back with Jimmy Neutron, short pass, controlled. The gaffer approves.

The polymath bounces off Mickey Mouse for a lightning one-two. The kind of player who makes everyone around him better. Aristotle charges down the right flank, the full-back tries to follow but it is impossible. Aristotle sets up Mr. Bean with a lay-off in the eighteen, nobody between the shooter and the goal.

The boss writes three words on the board: KEEP. IT. GOING. Then turns to face the group. "I do not need to say much. You know what you are doing out there. Aristotle, you have been outstanding. Mickey Mouse, keep that right side locked down. The rest of you, same again. Let us finish this properly." Aristotle turned up to a school reunion in full kit and boots, apparently misreading the invitation. The 2410-year-old spent the evening doing keepy-uppies in the car park while everyone else had a carvery. And now, our TV game show University Challenge Yourself! To win an umbrella that actually works, text 4012 and answer: 'How many consecutive days of rain does it take for a British person to mention the weather?' Jimmy Neutron leads the team out for the second half, armband tight, voice booming across the pitch. The crowd rises. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. This is what it is all about.

Ball moves quickly, players run, but the finish is heartbreaking. Line-breaking pass from Jesus Christ! The ball slices through the centre-halves and Jimmy Neutron picks it up at full pace. Devastating. Poor decision from Jimmy Neutron on that pass, it is completely telegraphed and the opposition reads it.

The actor positions himself in the passing lane and intercepts the ball. In that role, reading the game is the invisible weapon, and he has just pulled it out at the perfect moment. Counter from their own goal, and all that just to butcher the cross. Thomas Tuchel absolutely butchers that pass, straight into the feet of the opposition.

Short free kick from Thomas Tuchel, Mickey Mouse receives in space and can play on. WHAT A SHAME for Mickey Mouse! Thunderous strike that flashes just past the upright. The opposition has eleven behind the ball and a smile on their face. The player gets his cross wrong, too much juice on it. The intent is there but the execution lets him down tonight.

The team is resisting with real discipline, no cracks in the shape. PHENOMENAL leg save from Tutankhamun! He closed the angle at the last second and blocks the lot. Tidy restart from Tutankhamun along the deck to Vlad the Impaler, the press is avoided, the trap is sprung.

The pressure is building and building, the opposition can't get out of their half. Pope Francis puts the ball right into the mixer, Jimmy Neutron arrives in the middle of the defensive cluster. Aerial duel lost by the player, outmuscled by the attacker. It happens to the best, but in that role you need to bounce back fast.

WHAT A WIN! Julius Caesar and Tutankhamun do their signature handshake — twelve steps, three fist bumps, and something involving elbows that nobody else can replicate. The fans try to copy it in the stands. It goes badly. Everyone loves it anyway. Arthur from Stoke-on-Trent says zero consecutive days because a true Brit mentions it before it even starts. Arthur wins the umbrella! And finally, your bedtime viewing: 'Countryfile, but filmed entirely in a Tesco car park in Basingstoke.' Adam Henson pets a shopping trolley. It's surprisingly moving. Goodnight.

Matchday 5 — vs Douala Makossa-Corner

2-3 (L)

Vlad the Impaler plays it into the channel for Aristotle, the defensive line is split clean in two. That is pure filth. GOOOOOAL! Aristotle lets his technique do the talking, he curls it on the pass from Mr. Bean and the ball nestles in the corner!

Vlad the Impaler runs to the corner flag, yanks it out of the ground and plants it at the centre circle like he's claiming new territory. Mr. Bean gives a mock salute. The Kop responds with a full tifo unfurling. The stadium announcer plays a banger.

And it's in! Douala Makossa-Corner take advantage of a dreadful mix-up at the back.

Tutankhamun points a finger to the sky — for someone up there. The stadium gets it, goes quiet for a beat. Thomas Tuchel comes over, puts a hand on his shoulder, says nothing. Even the camera crew keeps its distance. Sacred moment.

Elvis Presley pulls off a sombrero flick over the defender in open play, the opponent is humiliated. Elvis Presley produces a LUXURY solo! He dribbles, he accelerates, he beats them, he finishes, GOAL!

Tutankhamun finds Pope Francis with a long kick, the ball sails over the midfield and lands right on the money. Pope Francis wants to play it quick but the pass to Mickey Mouse is wayward, lacking any precision. Superb tackle from the military personnel, cleans up the danger without breaking a sweat. When you've got a player like that in the role, you sleep easy at night. Authoritative clearance from Julius Caesar in the box, he put everything behind it and the ball has gone sixty yards.

Oh that's heartbreaking! Douala Makossa-Corner score right on the stroke of half-time.

Dead defender. Tutankhamun mimes a sniper taking aim at the travelling support, finger pulled like a trigger, cold as ice. Aristotle completes the choreography by collapsing. Tutankhamun arrives late, throws himself on the pile, sends a roar through the stands.

The gaffer boots the door open and launches a water bottle across the dressing room. It explodes against the far wall and nobody flinches because they all know they deserve it. "What the bloody hell was that?!" he roars. Jesus Christ stares at the floor. Tutankhamun cannot even look up. Absolute shambles. Staff at IKEA Wembley confirm Pope Francis spent five hours in the showroom and left with nothing but a bag of tea lights and a hot dog. The 90-year-old reportedly got lost in the warehouse section twice. And now, our TV game show Pointless But True! To win a parking permit for Slough, text 6060 and answer this question: 'In which county is it illegal to whistle at cheese?' Back on the pitch and Jesus Christ is already barking orders at {his} teammates before the ball even rolls. The tone is set. This half means business.

Flat atmosphere, flat game, everyone looks half asleep. They're cranking it up a gear, the pressure is well and truly on. Mickey Mouse whips in a cross at head height, Jesus Christ anticipates and gets ahead of his marker.

Vlad the Impaler finds the gap and serves Julius Caesar in behind the last man. That is three-cushion snooker, that is. Shot from Julius Caesar, it's wide! Flirted with the post, missing by millimetres. The intensity has dropped to zero, both sides look jaded. Brilliant switch of play from Jesus Christ! The ball covers the entire width of the pitch to land in front of Mr. Bean.

Julius Caesar spots Jimmy Neutron in acres of space on the far side and sends a sixty-yard pass. Maximum awareness. Jimmy Neutron goes up to the heavens and comes back down with the ball. Aerial duel won, total domination, the opposition can pack their bags. Jimmy Neutron scrapes it clear with his studs under pressure, the ball goes out for a corner. It is not pretty but that is football, sometimes you just have to survive.

Gorgeous crossfield ball from Pope Francis to Elvis Presley, the kind of pass you see in highlight reels. Take a bow. The military personnel butchers that pass, straight to the opposition. Unusual for a player of his calibre. High recovery from Elvis Presley! He hounded the defender until he cracked. The pressing pays off. The military personnel finds Mickey Mouse along the ground, clean and tidy. That kind of pass looks easy but it takes a reading of the game that is way above average. Nutmeg from the player on the defender. Close-quarters dribbling is the trademark of the very best in that role.

GOAL! Douala Makossa-Corner have netted! Their forward pounced on the loose ball. Clinical.

Perfect back flip from Tutankhamun right in front of the home end, five-star landing. Vlad the Impaler tries the same behind him, lands flat on his arse, the whole squad doubled over laughing. Even Tutankhamun has made it up, hands on knees, breathless. Proper scenes.

Mickey Mouse shifts it to Thomas Tuchel with a short pass, threading it between two defenders. Crafty ball from Thomas Tuchel into the gap, Vlad the Impaler arrives into the space and collects on the move. Vlad the Impaler is flagged offside but it's INCREDIBLY tight! Mickey Mouse's pass deserved better than that. Everything grinds to a halt as VAR takes over. You could hear a pin drop in here. It's ruled out! Elvis Presley's goal is cancelled after a thorough VAR review!

The free kick from Thomas Tuchel is sent to the near post, Aristotle rushes in to meet it. Aristotle powers his header, the ball rockets over the crossbar. It was that close. The match has hit a real flat patch, no urgency whatsoever.

Magnificent low block, holding out like a besieged fortress. The player slides in with a perfect tackle and wins the ball. That's exactly the kind of intervention you want from someone in that position. Jimmy Neutron plays it simple to Elvis Presley, neat little ball into feet. Tidy. The one-two between Elvis Presley and Thomas Tuchel blows the defensive block apart. Give, run, return, done. Clinical.

Loss against Douala Makossa-Corner and it stings. Elvis Presley still goes over to the travelling fans, hand on heart, mouthing "sorry" through the drizzle. Vlad the Impaler follows. The away end responds with a round of applause that almost makes it worse. These fans deserve better. And here's the answer to Pointless But True! Geraldine Puddleworth, from Milton Keynes, correctly answered the question, which was 'In which county is it illegal to whistle at cheese?'. The answer was of course Shropshire, where the Cheddar Protection Act of 1903 remains in force. Geraldine wins this magnificent parking permit for Slough! Tonight's unmissable viewing: 'Dragons' Den, but the entrepreneurs only pitch things that already exist.' This week: a man from Bolton invents the umbrella. Again.

Matchday 6 — vs Lagos No-Carry-Last

2-2 (L)

The player takes on his man and leaves him for dead. In that position, the short dribble is the ultimate weapon. The referee points to the spot! PENALTY for Mickey Mouse! The defender fouled him in the box, impossible NOT to give it. The pressure goes up a NOTCH! What COMPOSURE from Mickey Mouse on this penalty! He waits until the last moment, places his shot and it is in. GOAL!

Tutankhamun sprints the full length of the pitch from his six-yard box to join the pile-up. The bundle forms on Mickey Mouse, you can't see him under the pile, just studs sticking out. All four subs have invaded the pitch. The ref has given up blowing his whistle.

Everyone has gone up, even the centre-backs are camped in the opposition box. Great overlap from Mickey Mouse down the flank, pinpoint cross for Mr. Bean in the area. This is the moment. The player meets the cross from Pope Francis with his head and scores! GOOOAL! In that position, that aerial game is an insane weapon.

The actor goes long for Julius Caesar, fifty yards of precision. In that position, the feet have become mandatory. Julius Caesar drops a lofted ball to Pope Francis, it sails over the entire midfield line. Burst of speed from the chemist down the flank, the defender is eaten alive. When you have got that raw pace in that role, it is a nightmare for full-backs. Pope Francis pulls the opponent back as he tries to break. Cynical but necessary. Pope Francis gives it short to Mickey Mouse from the free kick, tactical and cunning approach.

Clearance from the actor towards Jesus Christ, the ball covers the entire pitch. In his position, it is not just about the saves, the distribution matters too. Rapid combination: Jesus Christ to Mr. Bean, the ball barely touches the grass between them. Mr. Bean accelerates and takes the channel, the defender is left behind in two strides. The player lobs the entire defence with a chipped cross for Jesus Christ. That kind of technique is the hallmark of the very best.

It's there! Lagos No-Carry-Last tap it in from close range. Where was the marking?

'I told you so' mode. Tutankhamun eyeballs the Lagos No-Carry-Last bench with a cold smile, finger to his lips. Their gaffer loses it, the ref intervenes. Mr. Bean pulls Tutankhamun away by the shirt. The tension ratchets up, the home end adores it.

Thomas Tuchel stands up without being asked: "We need to show some bottle, lads. This is not a friendly against Lagos No-Carry-Last. Where is the fight? Where is the desire?" The gaffer nods slowly. Vlad the Impaler cracks {his} knuckles. The message lands. Sometimes the players need to hear it from one of their own. Despite the wages, Tutankhamun insists on a yearly caravan holiday in Skegness with the extended family. At 3367 and 180, the lad folding into a caravan shower is described by teammates as 'physically heroic.' And now, our TV game show The Weakest Biscuit! To win a Wetherspoons voucher for 47p, text 9911 and answer this question: 'How many custard creams can a standard British sigh carry?' Right then, part two. Jimmy Neutron adjusts {his} shin pads one last time and looks up. The floodlights catch the determination in {his} eyes. Forty-five minutes to make it count.

Thomas Tuchel sends the corner into the heart of the box but a defender wins the aerial duel and heads clear. Vlad the Impaler launches the ball into orbit, emergency clearance. No time to think, just get it out. Raking ball from the messiah to Mickey Mouse, surgical precision. In that position, vision is half the job.

Disaster! Lagos No-Carry-Last score! We've just handed them that on a silver platter.

What a tackle by Julius Caesar! Times it to perfection, nicks the ball, and the ref waves play on. Outstanding. The military personnel boots it into the stands to clear the danger. In his position, that kind of clearance is not wasteful, it is survival intelligence. Quiet as a library out there, no tempo, no edge, no quality.

Tight-knit defense, compact shape, the opposition has to shoot from distance. Perfect aerial claim from Tutankhamun! He gathers the cross in his box, that is SOLID. The actor finds Jimmy Neutron with a pinpoint kick. The kind of keeper who starts as many attacks as he stops. Monumental ball from Jimmy Neutron to Thomas Tuchel, the kind of pass that gets the crowd on its feet.

We're in the doldrums, both sides seem content to knock it about at the back. The player plays it simple to Mickey Mouse, neat little ball into feet. Tidy.

The polymath loses his aerial duel, the opponent beat him in the air. In that position, losing a header can be very costly. The actor spills the ball into the middle. In that position, that kind of fumble can cost you the match. You absolutely have to either gather it or punch it clear. Tutankhamun plays it along the ground to Thomas Tuchel, composed, controlled. The modern keeper plays football too. Lay-off from Thomas Tuchel to Mr. Bean, one touch, moving forward, retaining possession. That is the game plan.

Crucial intervention from the messiah, wins the tackle cleanly and recycles possession. In that role, timing is everything, and his was spot on. Blistering transition, but the final shot is weak and easily gathered. Incredible burst of pace from Thomas Tuchel, he eats up the ground in just a few strides.

Draw. Tutankhamun takes the time to shake every Lagos No-Carry-Last player's hand, one by one — old habit, old manners. Pope Francis follows suit. The screens show the stats: possession 50, shots on target 4 each. Perfect mirror. Neither side deserved more. And here's the answer to The Weakest Biscuit! Nigel Bottomsworth-Crumpet, from Stoke-on-Trent, correctly answered the question, which was 'How many custard creams can a standard British sigh carry?'. The answer was of course up to nine, though anything past six risks structural sigh failure. Nigel wins this magnificent Wetherspoons voucher for 47p! Next up: 'Motorway Cops: The M25 at 5pm on a Friday.' Four hours of footage. Nobody moves. Narrator falls asleep. BAFTA-nominated.

Matchday 7 — vs Barranquilla Toque-Toque

1-2 (L)

Lightning counter but the final pass is dreadful, completely wasted. Solo charge from Pope Francis, he sets off from his own box and carries the ball the full length of the field. Pope Francis sends a LOB over the keeper and it is GOAL! The finish is of GENIUS simplicity, just a little touch and the ball does the rest. INFINITE class!

Jesus Christ clears the danger with a massive hack, the ball flies into the distance. No time for pretty football. The rhythm has gone entirely, this is attritional stuff with no cutting edge. Late challenge from Mr. Bean, catches the opponent after the ball's gone. Free kick given. Mr. Bean is booked for that awful foul. Went over the ball and caught the opponent's ankle.

Thomas Tuchel triggers a change of flanks for Mickey Mouse, the ball rockets across the pitch above the heads. Mickey Mouse puts it right into the feet of Mr. Bean, one touch and away. Silky stuff. Mr. Bean finds Pope Francis between the lines, short pass, right foot, perfect first touch. Textbook one-two between Pope Francis and Jesus Christ. The ball goes, comes back, and the defence is beaten. Pure football.

Foul by the actor, pulls the opponent back. In that role you learn quickly when a tactical foul is worth it. Vlad the Impaler hits the free kick but it bounces off the wall. Nothing doing. Totally wasted corner from Mickey Mouse, the ball ends up miles from the box, shameful.

The player produces the tackle of the match, impeccable timing and technique. That ability to read the game defensively from that position is absolutely priceless. Jimmy Neutron clears in desperation and the ball ends up in the advertising hoardings. It is ugly, it is brutal, but the net stays untouched. The opponent gets the better of Aristotle in the aerial duel. Too small, too light, not high enough. It is cruel but that is football. WHAT A HEADER from Mr. Bean! It fliiiiies... but it goes wide. The post was shaking.

Elvis Presley punches {his} locker. The metallic bang echoes through the silent room. Nobody reacts because everyone understands. The frustration is suffocating, filling every corner of the dressing room like smoke. The gaffer waits for the noise to die before speaking: "Keep the anger for the pitch. Not in here." Now we've learned that Tutankhamun has completed every single crossword in the back of the Metro newspaper for the past four years. Never missed one. The squad calls him 'The Professor,' which is a bit generous, but at 3367, let the man have his moment. And now, our TV game show Deal or No Meal Deal! To win a signed Greggs loyalty card, text 8811 and answer this question: 'What is the shelf life of a broken promise in Scunthorpe?' The rain starts to fall as the players take their positions. Mickey Mouse wipes {his} face and grins. Proper football weather. Time to get stuck in.

Oh no, Barranquilla Toque-Toque score a worldie! Fair play, but our hearts are sinking.

Tutankhamun mimes smashing a penalty into the top corner, arm raised in frozen follow-through. Jimmy Neutron does the wave with contortionist grace. Tutankhamun solemnly applauds. The home end copies the movement in cadence.

Magnificent reading of the game from Julius Caesar, he intercepts between the lines and launches the counter. That kind of action turns a match on its head. Julius Caesar feeds Aristotle in stride, sharp and decisive, the backline is scrambling. Change of flanks from Aristotle, the ball sails across the entire pitch to find Thomas Tuchel. Little shift from Thomas Tuchel to Aristotle, the timing is spot on, the gap opens up.

GOAL! Barranquilla Toque-Toque have broken through! Their forward buried it into the bottom corner.

They break three on two and waste it all with the final pass. BY A WHISKER! Mickey Mouse fires and the ball shaves the right post before spinning out. The goal was right there. Nothing to get the blood pumping, this has turned into a possession drill.

Short restart from the actor to Thomas Tuchel, building out from the back. The modern keeper is basically an eleventh outfield player. Thomas Tuchel sets it for Vlad the Impaler, good reading of the game, the ball is circulating. Vlad the Impaler fires wide, not far from the post though! Tutankhamun rolls it short to Julius Caesar into feet, no panic, keep the ball and play.

Counter is perfect until the last second when everything falls apart. Julius Caesar anticipates the run from Mickey Mouse and fires a low missile in behind the defence. Perfect connection. Overlap from Mickey Mouse with raw pace, he roasts the defender over two yards. Cruel. Good cross from the player for Jesus Christ in the area. The bare minimum for a wide player, but done with surgical quality. Corner from Jesus Christ, deflected at the near post, ricochets, CHAOS! Defense clears off the line!

Jimmy Neutron rolls it to Thomas Tuchel, the ball hugs the turf, not a bobble, not a hesitation. The match is limping along, neither keeper has touched the ball in ages. They're going for the jugular, this is a side in full flow.

Full time and it's a bitter one. Thomas Tuchel stands rooted to the spot, hands on hips, staring at nothing. Vlad the Impaler walks past and squeezes his shoulder. No words needed. Barranquilla Toque-Toque are celebrating twenty yards away but it might as well be another planet. And here's the answer to Deal or No Meal Deal! Gerald Musty-Carpet, from Stoke-on-Trent, correctly answered the question, which was 'What is the shelf life of a broken promise in Scunthorpe?'. The answer was of course roughly six weeks, or until the next council election, whichever comes first. Gerald wins this magnificent signed Greggs loyalty card! And now: 'MasterChef, but every dish must be made in a university halls kitchen with only a kettle and a George Foreman grill.' Bon appetit. Sort of.

Matchday 8 — vs Montevideo Garra-Charrúa

1-2 (L)

Jesus Christ slides it to Aristotle, inch-perfect pass along the deck. Lovely. Ferocious press from Aristotle! He sticks to the carrier, hounds him, and ends up winning the ball. The dirty work that makes great players. Poacher's goal from Aristotle! The keeper spilled it and Aristotle prods the ball into the net.

Jesus Christ unfurls a banner hidden in his shorts: 'FOR THE LADS DOWN THE ROAD'. The home end erupts. Pope Francis makes a heart sign with his hands. Tutankhamun finally shows up, completely out of breath, collapses next to them.

Corner from Pope Francis, Julius Caesar heads it with a diving effort but it goes over the bar. Shame. Beautiful distribution from Tutankhamun to Thomas Tuchel, a long kick that looks like it came from a midfielder. Thomas Tuchel launches himself and thumps a dominant header on the cross. The opponent was still on the ground while Thomas Tuchel was flying.

Intense pressing from the polymath, he wins the ball in the opposition half. When you have that engine in that role, you suffocate any team. Instant break, the opposition are caught on their heels and punished. Overlap from Aristotle on the left flank, he beats the defender with pure speed.

And that's a goal! Montevideo Garra-Charrúa extend their lead. We are in deep trouble here.

Textbook tackle from Jesus Christ there, reads the pass, slides in, and intercepts. The gaffer will be delighted. Lightning counter, but the finish is absolutely catastrophic. Elvis Presley curls one with his right, it's bending and bending but it slides just wide of the post. So close! We're watching paint dry, this has become a real war of attrition. A team possessed now, everything is clicking into place.

Mr. Bean punches {his} locker. The metallic bang echoes through the silent room. Nobody reacts because everyone understands. The frustration is suffocating, filling every corner of the dressing room like smoke. The gaffer waits for the noise to die before speaking: "Keep the anger for the pitch. Not in here." Brilliant little nugget — Tutankhamun has a recurring dream where he's stuck in a Harvester salad bar that never ends. He told the club psychologist, who apparently just said 'that's very normal for a man your height.' He's 180, for the record. And now, our TV game show Who Wants to Win a Kebab! To win a signed Greggs loyalty card, text 8080 and answer this question: 'How many crumpets does it take to change a lightbulb?' And they are off! Tutankhamun touches the ball first and lays it wide. The tempo is up already. Whatever the gaffer said at halftime, it has done the trick.

Aristotle slips Vlad the Impaler in with a cute little pass through the gap. Clever. Vlad the Impaler lays it off first time to Mr. Bean, fluid stuff, the ball is moving nicely. Good ball from Mr. Bean to Julius Caesar, playing it quick between the lines.

Corner from Mickey Mouse into the danger area but a defender heads it away, dealt with. Team goes on the counter but the final pass is too short, all wasted. Mr. Bean takes the channel at full speed, the defender is eaten alive in the foot race.

Oh no, Montevideo Garra-Charrúa score! Their forward was left completely unmarked, schoolboy defending.

The military personnel switches the play to Elvis Presley, fifty-yard crossfield ball. That is his bread and butter. Elvis Presley looks for Thomas Tuchel but the pass is way too long, that is going out for a throw-in. The military personnel fouls the opponent to break up the attack. It's part of the job at that position, knowing when to take one for the team. Elvis Presley whips the free kick into the box for Thomas Tuchel, dangerous delivery!

Pope Francis links up with Jesus Christ, one touch each, bang bang, the opposition cannot keep up. Jesus Christ reaches the byline and rolls it back along the ground, Jimmy Neutron receives it in the box. It is on a plate. Jimmy Neutron winds up and shoots, but the defender throws himself down and takes the ball in the stomach. Brave stuff. Massive clearance from Aristotle in the scramble, he has whacked it out of the box. Survival mission accomplished. Aerial duel lost by Jimmy Neutron, he was nudged in the back and could not get a proper jump in.

Tutankhamun plays it short to Thomas Tuchel, building out from the back. Calculated risk. Thomas Tuchel anticipates the pass and intercepts cleanly. The opposition midfielder thought he had found the gap, but it was a trap. Clearance from Thomas Tuchel under pressure, the ball flies into touch on the far side. It is not in the coaching manual but it works.

Everyone is sprinting, even the subs are banging on the hoardings. Mickey Mouse winds up the right foot and LEEEEETS FLY! On target, heading top bins but the keeper claws it out!

Gutting. Tutankhamun throws his gloves at the bench in frustration. Pope Francis picks them up quietly and puts them in the bag. The gaffer waits for everyone to sit down before speaking. His voice is calm but his eyes tell a different story. Long coach ride home. And here's the answer to Who Wants to Win a Kebab! Derek Blandford-Tepid, from Slough, correctly answered the question, which was 'How many crumpets does it take to change a lightbulb?'. The answer was of course none, crumpets don't have hands but they do have holes, which is arguably worse. Derek wins this magnificent signed Greggs loyalty card! Coming up after the break: 'Escape to the Country, but the budget is £47 and the country is a layby near Swindon.' Dreams are free. Houses are not.

Matchday 9 — vs Buenos Aires Pecho Frío

1-2 (L)

Blistering transition, defence caught cold and carved wide open. OOOH GOAL from Elvis Presley! On the assist from Thomas Tuchel, he curls it along the deck and the ball sneaks into the corner!

They've nicked a goal! Buenos Aires Pecho Frío catch us cold on the break.

Tutankhamun stretches his arms like an aeroplane, makes vroom sounds with his mouth, runs around the centre circle. Aristotle follows like a second plane, the engine noise is audible. Tutankhamun plays the control tower. Holiday camp vibes.

Elvis Presley lays it off to Mr. Bean from the free kick, little one-two to get around the wall. WIIIIIDE! Mr. Bean put plenty on it but the ball slides just past the frame of the goal. Sideways, backwards, sideways again, the crowd is getting restless. WHAT A MISS from Pope Francis! Sends it into the clouds, about 15 yards over the bar.

They push up as a unit, the opposition can't string two passes together. Elvis Presley brings the opponent down with a cynical challenge. Nothing malicious, just effective. Wasted by the military personnel on the free kick! In that position, when you have got that responsibility, you have to deliver the basics and hit the frame.

Tame stuff all round, nobody's willing to take a risk. Sterile possession, the opposition back four could have a picnic. Thomas Tuchel opens up to Vlad the Impaler on the opposite wing, the ball floats over the midfield. Magnificent. The actor overlaps on the wing and leaves the full-back for dead. In that position, pace is the ultimate weapon.

Mickey Mouse cannot even look at {his} teammates. {he} knows the mistake was {his}. The gaffer knows it too but does not single {him} out. Instead he addresses the room: "We win as a team, we lose as a team. Right now we are losing. So what are we going to do about it? Sit here and sulk, or go out there and fight?" Now I've been told — and I can barely say this with a straight face — that Jimmy Neutron has a loyalty card at his local dodgy kebab shop. Thirteen stamps and you get a free doner. He's on stamp eleven and says the Champions League can wait. And now, our TV game show Deal or No Meal Deal! To win a parking permit for Slough, text 5959 and answer this question: 'How fast can a disappointed Brit tut in miles per hour?' And the second half is go! Elvis Presley charges forward from kick-off like a man possessed. The gaffer watches from the technical area, arms folded. Let us see what happens.

The player lays it off first time to Aristotle, fluid stuff, exactly what you expect from a player of that calibre. The game's petered out completely, we're just waiting for someone to spark it. The crowd can sense it, something's about to give. The player wins the ball back high up after a ferocious press. That is exactly what you want from a player in that position: intensity and sacrifice.

The military personnel strings together skill moves and humiliates the defender. It is rare to see that much flair in that position. Overlap from the military personnel with pure pace. That is exactly what you want from a player in that position: drive and destroy. Pinpoint delivery from the military personnel towards Aristotle, the ball lands on a sixpence. In that position, crosses are half the job.

The counter is on but the ball is lost dumbly when it's time to play it in. Thomas Tuchel decides to take matters into his own hands, he devours the pitch and causes chaos. Thomas Tuchel throws himself into a tackle and just takes a chunk out of the turf. The attacker is long gone. Off he goes! Jesus Christ clips the attacker who was through on goal. Last man back, it's a red card.

Corner swung in by Thomas Tuchel, a defender rises above everyone and heads it clear. Huge interception from Elvis Presley! He cuts out the pass and drives forward. The kind of action that never shows up in the stats but changes the whole match. Elvis Presley delivers a tidy ball to Mr. Bean, the kind of pass that does not make the highlights but does all the dirty work.

Far too slow, the opposition has time to set up ten times over. That is miles high from Thomas Tuchel! The ball disappears into the sky, absolutely nowhere near. A proper lull, the players seem to be going through the motions.

It's hit the back of the net! Buenos Aires Pecho Frío lead and we look completely lost.

Tutankhamun mimes a baseball home run, watches the imaginary ball disappear into imaginary clouds, then jogs round the bases. Mickey Mouse plays the opposing manager crying on the sideline. Tutankhamun applauds from the centre circle. The home end losing it.

Jesus Christ with a trademark slide tackle, gets the ball and pops straight back up. The fans are on their feet! Fantastic surging run from Jesus Christ, he sets off from his own half and charges towards goal. Failed dribble from Jesus Christ, the ball stays at the defender's feet. Poor decision. The player reads the pass and intercepts cleanly. When you have that reading ability in that position, you snuff out attacks before they even begin.

Defeat and the dressing room feels like a dentist's waiting room. Jimmy Neutron stares at his boots like they've personally betrayed him. Tutankhamun peels off his tape slowly, methodically. The gaffer says five words: "We'll fix it in training." Everyone believes him. Sort of. And here's the answer to Deal or No Meal Deal! Derek Blandford-Tepid, from Slough, correctly answered the question, which was 'How fast can a disappointed Brit tut in miles per hour?'. The answer was of course Mach 2 on a Sunday, or Mach 4 if someone has pushed at the post office. Derek wins this magnificent parking permit for Slough! Coming up after the break: 'Escape to the Country, but the budget is £47 and the country is a layby near Swindon.' Dreams are free. Houses are not.

Matchday 10 — vs Rio Malandro FC

1-1 (L)

Jimmy Neutron gives it to Julius Caesar, sprints, asks for it back, and gets it. The classic one-two but absolutely lethal. Jimmy Neutron touches the ball with incredible softness and sends it into the bottom corner! GOAL, sublime stuff!

Jimmy Neutron fakes a phone call, thumb and pinky against his ear: 'HELLO?! YES, I SCORED! TELL THE MISSUS!' The stadium loses it. Julius Caesar plays the person on the other end of the line. Pure theatre.

Raking ball from the messiah to Thomas Tuchel, surgical precision. In that position, vision is half the job. Epic counter, but the low cross goes through with no one at the back post. Jimmy Neutron slides a beauty through the gap, Mickey Mouse is away, the timing is absolutely spot on. Devastating burst of pace from Mickey Mouse, he eats the full-back alive on the right flank.

Frustration boiling over in the stands, going in circles for ten minutes. We're in low gear now, the final whistle can't come soon enough. Mickey Mouse looks up and launches a long pass towards Mr. Bean. The ball traces a perfect arc across the sky.

Oh that's poor! Rio Malandro FC score from a set piece. We switched off completely.

Raid from Pope Francis starting in his own half, he eats up the pitch and arrives in front of goal. Moment of madness. Pope Francis tries a step-over but the defender is not buying it and wins the ball. Blistering counter but the shot is so far off target it's painful.

Elvis Presley sits at the end of the bench, head in hands. Decent first half but nothing special, and for a player of {his} quality, nothing special is not good enough. Julius Caesar sits down beside {him}: "Second half, mate. It is coming. Trust me." Elvis Presley nods but does not look up. Here's one that'll make you smile — Jesus Christ spent three hundred quid at a Blackpool arcade trying to win a stuffed monkey from a claw machine. Didn't get it. Went back the next day with another fifty. Still didn't get it. He's 2019 and absolutely committed. And now, our TV game show Celebrity Gogglebox of Horrors! To win a television remote with missing batteries, text 5456 and answer: 'How many remotes does the average British living room have and does anyone know which one controls the volume?' Whistle. Ball. Movement. Elvis Presley is on it from the very first second, demanding the pass, pointing, shouting. The longest forty-five minutes of the evening start now.

Short pass from the player to Julius Caesar, no frills, just efficiency. The bare minimum for someone at this level. With one swing of the boot, Julius Caesar finds Pope Francis on the opposite flank. The kind of pass that cracks a game open. Overlap on the left from Pope Francis, floated cross towards Julius Caesar who rises highest at the far post. The cross from Julius Caesar is a gift for the keeper who catches it with total composure.

Lovely quick transition, but the final decision-making is terrible. Thomas Tuchel tries the power drive and BOOOOM! On target but the keeper gets down and blocks. Saved! The corner from Thomas Tuchel is headed away by a tall defender, nothing doing there. The player intercepts the pass with textbook reading of the game. In that position, it is that intelligence that separates a good player from a great one. Quick one-two between Mr. Bean and Julius Caesar, clean as you like, they are moving forward.

A proper quiet spell, the crowd has gone eerily silent. The ball pings around but the defenders are barely breaking sweat. Raking ball from the actor to Mr. Bean, surgical precision. In that position, vision is half the job. Powerful run from Mr. Bean down the flank, he goes past the full-back as if he is not there.

Julius Caesar boots it into touch with a last-ditch sliding clearance, the effort is desperate but it does the business. Tutankhamun smashes a volley towards Vlad the Impaler, the ball rockets forward and drops perfectly at the feet. What a foot on that keeper. Vlad the Impaler unleashes a raking ball out to Pope Francis, it flies through the air and drops like a feather. Top drawer. Good ball from the chemist to Jimmy Neutron, playing it quick between the lines. That is what he does.

The player starts a one-two with Jimmy Neutron, give and go. In that position it is the basics, but he does it with outrageous class. Mickey Mouse threads the needle between the two centre-backs, Aristotle bursts through the back and he is clean through. Massive. Offside given against Aristotle but that is desperately close, Mickey Mouse is absolutely fuming! Tutankhamun opts for the short option to Elvis Presley, keeping possession, building play, no panic. Elvis Presley wins the header in a crowded box, he popped up above three players. That man is an aircraft.

Overlap from Mickey Mouse on the left, he bombs towards the byline at full tilt. Mickey Mouse lays it off for Elvis Presley in the danger zone, the striker is loaded and ready. How has Elvis Presley missed that?! Vlad the Impaler did all the hard work and laid it on a plate for him. Tepid stuff, the ball just keeps going back to the keeper.

Level. Thomas Tuchel picks up his captain's armband from where he'd dropped it mid-match and tucks it carefully into his kitbag. Mickey Mouse waits by the door. "Right. Shall we?" "Let's." Nothing more. Some nights the words aren't needed. Keith from Grimsby says six remotes and no, nobody knows which one does the volume, they just press them all. Remote with no batteries for Keith! Buckle up for: 'The Apprentice, but Lord Sugar sends them all to run a village fete in Dorset.' One team runs out of tombola tickets. The other buys 400 scones. You're fired. All of you.

Matchday 11 — vs Istanbul Cehennem FK

1-1 (L)

Thomas Tuchel plays the free kick into the danger zone, Elvis Presley arrives at the penalty spot. OHHH NOOOO! Own goal from Elvis Presley! He tried to head it clear but the ball loops over his keeper and nestles in the net! The poor lad is on his KNEES, he does not know where to look. Complete disaster.

The actor switches the play to Elvis Presley, fifty-yard crossfield ball. That is his bread and butter. Commanding header from Elvis Presley who wins his aerial duel. The opponent tried to barge him but Elvis Presley did not budge an inch. Blistering counter, but the one dribble too many kills the whole move. Powerful effort from Mickey Mouse, ON TARGEEEET! But the keeper stretches and tips it over the bar.

Jimmy Neutron grabs a handful of the attacker's shirt and won't let go! Yellow card for the player, persistent infringement. Can't keep fouling from that spot on the pitch. Jimmy Neutron puts too much welly on the free kick, the ball flies over without troubling the keeper.

The actor goes long for Vlad the Impaler, fifty yards of precision. In that position, the feet have become mandatory. Vlad the Impaler forces a pass to Pope Francis who was not in position. Bad read, ball gone. The polymath reads the play and puts in a textbook challenge. That's the sort of awareness you need in that position, and he's delivered it perfectly. Aristotle fires the ball over to Mr. Bean with a raking pass, the pitch opens up like a book. Overlap and cross from Mr. Bean, the ball drops at the feet of Elvis Presley in the heart of the box.

GOAAAL! Istanbul Cehennem FK make it count! Sliced through us like a hot knife through butter.

Solidarity move: Tutankhamun grabs Aristotle who made the assist, drags him by the neck to the main stand. 'HIM! IT'S HIM!' The stadium gives Aristotle a standing ovation right through to the restart.

VAR complaints are flying around the dressing room. "That was a stonewall penalty, how has he not given that?" Mickey Mouse is livid, gesturing wildly. Vlad the Impaler chips in: "Absolute shambles, the officiating." The gaffer cuts them off: "Forget the ref. We control what we can control. Now sit down and listen." Dressing room whispers confirm that Mickey Mouse has an entire drawer at home dedicated to takeaway menus. Refuses to use apps. Says he likes 'the theatre of choosing from paper.' He's 28 and living in a beautiful analogue world. And now, our TV game show Through the Keyhole of Number 42! To win net curtains for every window in your house, text 0800NOSY and answer: 'What is the maximum acceptable time to watch your neighbour through the curtains?' They are back. Tutankhamun salutes the travelling fans with a raised fist before taking {his} spot. The faithful respond in kind. Second half. Bring it on.

They've grabbed the game by the scruff of the neck now. They're all over them like a rash, no time on the ball whatsoever. Pope Francis does not let up and steals the ball right from the defender's feet. Dummy from Pope Francis, the defender dives in and ends up on the deck. Done.

The ball from Pope Francis rips through the defensive curtain, Jesus Christ is flying into the space like an arrow. Jesus Christ overlaps on the wing with frightening ease, the defender is made to look silly. Shocker from the messiah on that tackle, completely misread the situation. In that role, taking that gamble can really hurt you. Elvis Presley takes the red card without complaint. Last defender, he clattered the attacker to stop a certain goal.

The squeeze is on, they've got the opposition pinned in their own box. The player whips in a classic cross for Jesus Christ in the box. When you have got that delivery from the flank, you cause havoc. The messiah delivers the corner and it's pandemonium! In that position, a quality delivery into the danger zone is exactly what you need. Strike from Jesus Christ that is blocked by a courageous defender. The ball flies out for a corner.

Aristotle puts hellish pressure on the opposition build-up and forces the turnover. That is what high pressing looks like. Body feint from the polymath, the defender is eliminated. When you have got that technique in that role, you cause carnage. Shot from the polymath, wide! Not far from the woodwork though. In that role, full credit for trying, that was genuinely close. Short restart from Tutankhamun to Julius Caesar, building from the back nice and tidy.

It's end-to-end stuff, these final minutes are absolutely mad! Lovely transition but the shot is like he was scared of the goal. Clean lay-off from the military personnel to Pope Francis into the gap. The bare minimum for a player of that calibre, but done with outrageous class. The overlap from Pope Francis, he leaves the opposing full-back for dead.

Tutankhamun sparks the transition with a quick throw to Julius Caesar, the break is lightning fast. Julius Caesar keeps it short to Thomas Tuchel, no frills, just good football intelligence. Looks like a training session, soft and completely predictable. Thomas Tuchel tries his luck and puts it on the third tier. The crowd give him an ironic round of applause.

Points shared. Jimmy Neutron sits on the grass for a full minute, staring up at the floodlights. Elvis Presley crouches beside him: "Come on mate, let's get inside. Tuesday's another game." Long season. Draws happen. Nobody's thrilled, nobody's devastated. Valerie from Bournemouth says thirty-eight seconds is the socially accepted maximum before you have to pretend to look at your phone. Net curtains for Valerie! Next on your screen: 'The Repair Shop, but it's just a bloke trying to fix the office printer.' He will fail. He will call IT. IT will tell him to turn it off and on again. Art.

Matchday 12 — vs Milano Piano-Piano

1-4 (L)

Vlad the Impaler steals the ball in the passing lanes, that is pure reading of the game, intelligent football at its finest. Cracking counter, they've knifed through the middle at full tilt. GOOOAL from the chemist! Undefendable rocket, the keeper was a spectator. In that position, that kind of strike makes you look like a monster.

Short build-up from Vlad the Impaler to Pope Francis, playing out from the back, keeping it safe. Pope Francis fires a low ball back across the box for Elvis Presley, the defence is caught wrong-footed.

Header lost by Thomas Tuchel, the opponent was just too strong. Poor handling from the actor! When you are in that position, parrying it into the middle is the one mistake you are not allowed to make. Pope Francis boots the ball into touch with a panicked clearance. The manager winces but the result is there.

Oh no, it's in! Milano Piano-Piano punish a terrible defensive error. Heads in hands.

Tutankhamun climbs the hoardings and stands on top, arms in a V. The stewards are gesticulating but won't pull him down. Vlad the Impaler films him shouting 'LEGEEEEND!' The stadium DJ drops a tune nobody has heard since the 90s.

Body feint from Aristotle, the defender goes the wrong way, that is cruel. The polymath absolutely clatters the attacker with a wild lunge. That kind of recklessness has no place in that position. Booking for Aristotle, the elbow came out in the aerial duel. Nasty stuff. The free kick is played short by Aristotle to Vlad the Impaler, smart approach that. Lovely use of the ball by Vlad the Impaler, finding Aristotle in a tight pocket of space. Quality.

"You are playing like a bloody pub team!" The gaffer is purple with rage. "My Sunday league side would have put up more of a fight! Aristotle, where were you for their second? Having a nap?" Aristotle opens {his} mouth to respond and thinks better of it. This is not the time. We're hearing that Thomas Tuchel spent his entire signing bonus on a ride-on lawnmower. Doesn't even have a garden — he lives in a flat. But the lad is 53, he's got a mower, and he says he's 'planning ahead.' Absolute scenes. And now, our TV game show Deal or No Meal Deal! To win a signed Greggs loyalty card, text 3141 and answer this question: 'What noise does a disappointed scone make?' Mr. Bean spits on {his} palms, old school, and rubs them together. Boots in the turf, eyes on the prize. The whistle goes. Game on.

Thomas Tuchel plays it in, Jesus Christ lays it back into the run with a cushioned touch, and Thomas Tuchel is off again. Magnificent. Thomas Tuchel powers past on the wing, the defender can only watch him go. Thomas Tuchel tries the dribble but it is far too predictable, the defender cuts it out easily. Superb tackle from the chemist, cleans up the danger without breaking a sweat. When you've got a player like that in the role, you sleep easy at night. Lifesaving clearance from Pope Francis! The ball goes out for a throw but the danger is over, that is all that matters.

Hollow dominance, not a single dangerous move on show. Jesus Christ plays the simple ball to Elvis Presley, nothing fancy but dead effective. Football does not have to be complicated. Short pass from the military personnel to Mr. Bean, no frills, just efficiency. The bare minimum for someone at this level. The player reads the movement before anyone else and puts Mickey Mouse into space. In that position, that is the kind of pass that changes a game.

They've done it! Milano Piano-Piano find the net and our lot look absolutely devastated.

Solidarity move: Tutankhamun grabs Mr. Bean who made the assist, drags him by the neck to the main stand. 'HIM! IT'S HIM!' The stadium gives Mr. Bean a standing ovation right through to the restart.

Monster clearance from Tutankhamun, the ball reaches the stratosphere before coming back down to Elvis Presley. Elvis Presley intercepts in the opposition half, he read the play three seconds before anyone else. That is defensive caviar. Elvis Presley spreads it to Mr. Bean, simple pass, clear intent. Playing it right. The player beats the defender with a sharp turn. It is rare to see a player in that position with that kind of pure skill. The player gets to the byline and floats one in for Aristotle. Crossing is his bread and butter.

Decisive interception from the actor, he cut out the passing lane as if he knew the opposition game plan. That is exactly what you want from a player in that role. Supersonic transition, but the final shot ends up in the clouds. Wide from the military personnel! The ball licks the post. In that role, that shooting ability is a real asset, the next one's going in.

It's a goal for Milano Piano-Piano! The ball has gone in off the post, cruel luck.

Full moonwalk from Tutankhamun, penalty spot to halfway line, timing immaculate. Vlad the Impaler does the bassline, hand-on-mouth move, in sync. Tutankhamun applauds slowly, cringing grin on his face. Every phone in the stadium is lit up.

Tutankhamun distributes short to Mickey Mouse, no risk, no frills. The ball moves, the team breathes. Sideways ball from Mickey Mouse to Vlad the Impaler, switching the point of attack, stretching the block. Vlad the Impaler puts his foot on the gas down the wing, the full-back has got no chance. Pace wins. Vlad the Impaler chips a cross over everyone, Jimmy Neutron finds himself alone behind the defence. OHHH the header from the player goes over! In that role, he has got the timing and the leap, just needs a fraction more precision.

GOAL for Milano Piano-Piano! A looping header from their attacker, our keeper was stranded.

Tutankhamun rips off his shirt and whirls it above his head like a lasso, bare-chested under the floodlights. Vlad the Impaler jumps on his back, Tutankhamun is already at the halfway line sprinting. The Kop rises as one, flares erupt, the away end goes silent.

Thomas Tuchel shapes to shoot but plays it short to Aristotle, the defence is caught flat-footed. Aristotle has a crack and BAAANG! Wide but the ball kissed the post on the way out. The ball goes from side to side but there's no end product whatsoever. Aristotle launches a rocket... but towards the stratosphere. Completely and utterly missed.

Defeat. Aristotle sits on the pitch long after the whistle, knees pulled up, replaying every mistake in his head. Mickey Mouse comes back out from the tunnel to get him: "Come on, mate. Can't stay here all night." The groundsman's already got the sprinklers going. And here's the answer to Deal or No Meal Deal! Colin Flannel-Trousers, from Grimsby, correctly answered the question, which was 'What noise does a disappointed scone make?'. The answer was of course a sort of moist sigh, like a librarian who has lost her bookmark. Colin wins this magnificent signed Greggs loyalty card! Don't touch that remote! Up next: 'Antiques Roadshow: Nan's Attic — is that vase worth thousands or did she nick it from a Toby Carvery in 1987?'

Matchday 13 — vs Sevilla Olé-Olé

1-3 (L)

GOAL! Sevilla Olé-Olé are celebrating! Their attacker made it look far too easy.

Knee slide from Tutankhamun right up to the edge of the stands, high-fives every fan in the front row one by one. Mickey Mouse does the same down the line. Tutankhamun turns up late and blows kisses to both ends at once. Pure magic.

Moment of truth, heroes rise or hearts break. Mad sprint from the actor Tutankhamun, arriving just in time in the box. GOOOOOAL! Thomas Tuchel climbs higher than anyone on the pass from Elvis Presley and powers an UNSTOPPABLE header!

Lovely counter, the ball flies forward but it amounts to nothing at the end. Pope Francis sends Elvis Presley into space with a pass weighted to the centimetre. The fullback is nowhere. Blistering run from Elvis Presley on the wing, the defender is chasing but never catches up.

Oh it's gone in! Sevilla Olé-Olé find the gap in our defence. Absolute shambles.

Tutankhamun legs it straight to the away end, vaults the advertising hoardings and plants himself face-to-face with their supporters. Jimmy Neutron tries to follow, gets nabbed by stewards. The home end loses it completely. Absolute bedlam.

No runs in behind, no penetration, just ball retention for its own sake. The polymath shifts the point of attack with an inch-perfect crossfield pass to Julius Caesar. Pure quality, as per usual. Looping cross from Julius Caesar, it sails over the centre-halves and drops towards Jesus Christ. Danger. Aerial claim from the actor, ball in the gloves. When your keeper comes out like that, you know you can defend high without fear.

The dressing room reeks of defeat. Not sweat, not Deep Heat, just that horrible invisible stench of a team that has been outfought and outplayed. Jesus Christ's eyes are bloodshot. Elvis Presley looks like {he} has aged ten years in forty-five minutes. The gaffer stands in the centre and delivers his final words before sending them back out: "If we go down tonight, we go down swinging. Not on our knees. Never on our knees." Scouts initially spotted Jesus Christ not on a pitch but in a Greggs queue, where the 2019-year-old demonstrated elite spatial awareness and patience beyond his years. At 180, the lad dominated the sausage roll section. And now, our TV game show Pointless But True! To win a parking permit for Slough, text 6060 and answer this question: 'In which county is it illegal to whistle at cheese?' Whistle. Ball. Movement. Vlad the Impaler is on it from the very first second, demanding the pass, pointing, shouting. The longest forty-five minutes of the evening start now.

The whole team steps up to smother the build-up, the opposition is gasping. Julius Caesar reads the attempted through ball and intercepts in stride. The defence wanted to play it quick, but Julius Caesar was quicker. Raking ball from the military personnel to Elvis Presley, surgical precision. In that position, vision is half the job. Elvis Presley drives down the flank and puts in an inswinging cross, the ball curves away from the defence and reaches Thomas Tuchel.

Oh dear oh dear! Sevilla Olé-Olé score and the dugout is fuming. Rightly so.

Fifteen-yard belly slide from Tutankhamun, arms out like an aeroplane. Vlad the Impaler follows in like he's skiing. Tutankhamun arrives at a casual walk and flops on top last. The pile is three bodies deep. The physio is already panicking about someone's back.

Defensive organization is perfect, the opposition hits a brick wall. Jesus Christ produces a sensational tackle in the box, wins the ball, no penalty shout. That takes serious courage. Jesus Christ to Mickey Mouse, it is direct, it is crisp, the ball zips along the turf. Mickey Mouse starts the one-two with Pope Francis, the ball comes back in stride and it is done. Two touches, three yards gained.

The player slides in with a perfect tackle and wins the ball. That's exactly the kind of intervention you want from someone in that position. Jimmy Neutron shreds the opposition backline with a diabolical through ball for Mickey Mouse. The centre-halves are in absolute pieces. OHHHH Tutankhamun makes the right call! He comes out head-first and grabs the ball at the feet! Short restart from the actor to Jesus Christ, building out from the back. The modern keeper is basically an eleventh outfield player. The messiah opens up to Vlad the Impaler on the far side. That is exactly the kind of pass he is paid to deliver.

Lightning-quick counter, they've torn up the pitch in six seconds flat. Mickey Mouse puts everything into it and it crashes off the bar! The metallic thud says it all. No goal. Massive punt from Tutankhamun, sends the ball sixty yards, Pope Francis is scrapping for it up top.

Perfect pull-back from Mickey Mouse, Aristotle receives it facing goal inside the area. Dream scenario. Oh no Aristotle! Served on a plate by Vlad the Impaler, all alone with an open goal, and he fires wide! Bit of a snoozer this, not much happening at either end.

Thomas Tuchel pings a long diagonal to Pope Francis, completely shifts the point of attack. What a leap from Pope Francis! He rises above the lot and wins the header with royal composure. The chemist misses his header by inches, it goes wide. In that position, we know he has the aerial game, the next one is going in.

The player reads the play and puts in a textbook challenge. That's the sort of awareness you need in that position, and he's delivered it perfectly. Jimmy Neutron gifts Mr. Bean a highway with a pass in behind the last defender. The kind of service that is worth a goal. Mr. Bean unleashes a fierce drive, it's GOIIIIING... wide. Clips the post on the way out though. The match has gone to sleep, somebody needs to wake it up.

Full time and it's a bitter one. Julius Caesar stands rooted to the spot, hands on hips, staring at nothing. Jesus Christ walks past and squeezes his shoulder. No words needed. Sevilla Olé-Olé are celebrating twenty yards away but it might as well be another planet. And here's the answer to Pointless But True! Geraldine Puddleworth, from Milton Keynes, correctly answered the question, which was 'In which county is it illegal to whistle at cheese?'. The answer was of course Shropshire, where the Cheddar Protection Act of 1903 remains in force. Geraldine wins this magnificent parking permit for Slough! Don't touch that remote! Up next: 'Antiques Roadshow: Nan's Attic — is that vase worth thousands or did she nick it from a Toby Carvery in 1987?'

Matchday 14 — vs München Ordnung-Muss-Sein

1-1 (L)

High recovery from Pope Francis after a three-second press. The defender panicked under the pressure and who can blame him. Breakaway at full throttle, the centre-backs are hopelessly out of position. Mr. Bean winds up and FIIIIRES! Placed strike, the ball slides into the bottom corner, OPENING GOAAAAL!

Dead defender. Pope Francis mimes a sniper taking aim at the travelling support, finger pulled like a trigger, cold as ice. Tutankhamun completes the choreography by collapsing. Tutankhamun arrives late, throws himself on the pile, sends a roar through the stands.

Short pass from the military personnel to Mickey Mouse, no frills, just efficiency. The bare minimum for someone at this level. Cross from Mickey Mouse off the left, the ball travels across the entire six-yard box and finds Pope Francis at the far side. The cross from Pope Francis is blocked by a defender in the box. The defence holds firm. Tutankhamun goes long for Elvis Presley, the ball flies straight into the opposition half.

Oh dear, München Ordnung-Muss-Sein have gone and scored. The defence was all over the place.

Tutankhamun unfurls a banner hidden in his shorts: 'FOR THE LADS DOWN THE ROAD'. The home end erupts. Vlad the Impaler makes a heart sign with his hands. Tutankhamun finally shows up, completely out of breath, collapses next to them.

Superb defensive work from Julius Caesar there, slides across and pinches the ball. The crowd love that! Julius Caesar swivels and releases a crossfield pass to Jimmy Neutron, the ball cuts through the sky and drops on a sixpence. Vision. Jimmy Neutron clips the ball into the area with a whipped cross, Elvis Presley gets across the near post first. Dangerous corner from the military personnel, the defense is all over the place! In that role, that delivery quality on corners makes you invaluable. Mickey Mouse picks his spot and FIRES! On target, arrowing towards the top corner but the keeper tips it over!

Tutankhamun fires it out quickly by hand to Jimmy Neutron, the opposition defence is not set yet. Smart. Turnover from Jimmy Neutron, the pass is read like a book by the opposition defence. Crucial intervention from the military personnel, wins the tackle cleanly and recycles possession. In that role, timing is everything, and his was spot on. They go from a standing start but the final touch is completely missing. Individual run from Mr. Bean, he sets off from his own half, beats two men and finds himself one on one with the keeper.

The physio works on Elvis Presley's calf while the boss talks. "Their right-back is bombing forward every time. Elvis Presley, you get in behind him the second we win it back. Jesus Christ, play the ball early." The instructions are sharp, specific. This is a chess match now and the gaffer is moving his pieces. Mickey Mouse once gave a nine-minute post-match interview entirely about the weather, mentioning drizzle fourteen times. At 28, the lad has officially become a middle-aged dad trapped in a footballer's body. And now, our TV game show Bake Off the Rails! To win a soggy bottom certificate signed by Paul Hollywood, text 3412 and answer: 'What temperature should you bake a Victoria sponge if your oven only has two settings: warm and volcanic?' Tutankhamun trots out with a fresh shirt and a look that could curdle milk. Whatever happened in that dressing room has put fire in {his} belly.

Quick one-two between Mickey Mouse and Jesus Christ, clean as you like, they are moving forward. Jesus Christ hits it first time but the defender reads the trajectory and blocks. Smart defending. The corner from Aristotle is cut out at the near post by a defender, no danger. Aristotle hoofs the ball anywhere but it gets the job done. It is ugly, it is raw, but it saves the match.

Lay-off from Julius Caesar to Mickey Mouse, one touch, moving forward, retaining possession. That is the game plan. The player catches the opponent late. At that position you're always walking a fine line between aggression and discipline. Booking for Mickey Mouse, the niggling fouls have caught up with him at last. Free kick from Mickey Mouse... and it hits the wall. The wall did its job there. Emergency clearance from the military personnel, the ball travels fifty yards. In that role, knowing when to clear is just as important as knowing when to play.

Lovely use of the ball by Thomas Tuchel, finding Pope Francis in a tight pocket of space. Quality. Effort from Pope Francis, just wide but it was close. The keeper was beaten, just the post in the way. Completely sterile passage of play, neither side wants to take the initiative. Mr. Bean sends an aerial beauty to Thomas Tuchel, the ball cuts across the pitch like a guided missile.

What a recovery from the messiah! Sprints like a madman to get back and cover. When you've got a player like that, you know the team will never quit. Foul given against Jesus Christ, he went through the back of the opponent. Free kick from Jesus Christ played as a cross, Vlad the Impaler positions himself at the far post. Lovely take from the actor! Aerial command nailed down, that is what you ask of a modern keeper, to rule his box.

Lovely anticipation from the player who cuts out the opposition pass. In his position, that kind of interception is worth as much as a goal. The player finds Elvis Presley along the ground, clean and tidy. That kind of pass looks easy but it takes a reading of the game that is way above average. Elvis Presley bamboozles the defender with a feint, leaves him chasing shadows. Elvis Presley sends in a classic cross, it arrives on Julius Caesar in the thick of it. The military personnel heads it but it goes over. In that position you have got to hit the target, but the intent was spot on.

Counter perfect until the last yard when everything goes haywire. Careless distribution from Mr. Bean, the ball lands straight at an opponent's feet. The kind of pass that costs you. Aristotle gives the defender not a single second on the ball and wins possession. Pressing is a state of mind, and Aristotle has it running through his veins.

Share of the spoils. Julius Caesar walks off puffing out his cheeks, not quite sure how he feels. Aristotle throws an arm round him: "A point's a point, mate." The two squads mingle in the tunnel, polite handshakes all round. München Ordnung-Muss-Sein probably walk away happier than we do. Doris from Bakewell says volcanic obviously and Paul Hollywood gave her an approving nod through the telly. Soggy bottom certificate is hers! And now: 'Cash in the Attic, but the attic is a storage unit in Croydon and everything in it is slightly damp.' Emotional valuations guaranteed.

Matchday 15 — vs London Three-Pints

1-1 (L)

Elvis Presley shifts it to Thomas Tuchel with a short pass, threading it between two defenders. Thomas Tuchel beats his man with a sharp outside cut, the skill is absolutely effortless. Thomas Tuchel takes his time to aim, looks at the keeper, and SHOOTS! On target, in the net, GOOOOAL!

Great vision from Thomas Tuchel who switches to Pope Francis. The defence pivots, but they are too late. Pope Francis opens up the space for Elvis Presley with a ground pass, the ball arrives perfectly in stride. The military personnel bends the ball into the box for Vlad the Impaler. The kind of delivery that makes the difference in the big games.

The player launches the ball skyward under pressure from the attacker. It is not glamorous, but in that position it is exactly that kind of action that prevents disasters. The tempo has dropped off a cliff, this is hard going to watch. Elvis Presley blocks the run of the opponent, uses the body well but the ref says no.

The free kick is taken quickly, Pope Francis to Thomas Tuchel who drives forward immediately. SHOOOOT from Thomas Tuchel... just wide! Shaves the post, so close to going in. 80% of the ball and still 0-0, says it all really. Thomas Tuchel spots Elvis Presley peeling off and sends a ball in behind the full-back. The space is massive.

Elvis Presley plays the simple ball to Julius Caesar, nothing fancy but dead effective. Football does not have to be complicated. Julius Caesar lays it off first time to Thomas Tuchel, fluid stuff, the ball is moving nicely. Thomas Tuchel bombs down the right and swings in a floated cross, Aristotle wins the aerial battle. Oh no Aristotle! Header in the six-yard box but it goes over! The cross from Vlad the Impaler deserved better. This has turned into a real scrap, with no invention and no drive.

The dressing room is silent apart from the fizz of isotonic drinks being opened and the squeak of boots on tiles. Pope Francis is biting {his} nails in the corner. Elvis Presley stares at the ceiling like it holds the answers to everything. The gaffer lets the silence do its work before delivering his half-time talk. A plumber was called to Tutankhamun's house after the 3367-year-old attempted to fix a leaky tap and somehow flooded the entire kitchen. The bill came to more than the original tap was worth — by roughly four grand. And now, our TV game show The Weakest Biscuit! To win a year's membership to the National Trust, text 3210 and answer: 'What is the correct pronunciation of scone?' The rain starts to fall as the players take their positions. Mr. Bean wipes {his} face and grins. Proper football weather. Time to get stuck in.

Crucial intervention from the player, wins the tackle cleanly and recycles possession. In that role, timing is everything, and his was spot on. Lightning counter, striker's away on his bike and the defence is chasing shadows. Acceleration from Aristotle down the side, he takes the space behind the full-back. It is a motorway. Aristotle sends in a curling delivery, Jesus Christ peels off the back of his marker and finds space. Wasted cross from Jesus Christ, the keeper collects easily in his six-yard box. No danger whatsoever.

Tutankhamun hoofs it forward towards Elvis Presley, clearance mode, no time to mess about. Error from the military personnel, the pass is too soft and the opponent intercepts. Happens to the best of them.

Corner from Mickey Mouse and a header from Julius Caesar but it goes over! He had to hit the target there. Enormous clearance from Pope Francis inside his own box, he has booted it fifty yards. When you have to clear it, you clear it. Masterful aerial duel from Pope Francis, he gets above everyone and heads it clear. The attacker was left as a spectator. What a chance squandered, the counter was perfect until the last ball.

Counter on the turn, they've exploded forward like a sprung trap. The UPRIGHT denies Elvis Presley! He drops to his knees, that was the perfect strike but the post decided otherwise. Long ball from Tutankhamun for Jesus Christ who takes it down on the chest. Fifty yards of pinpoint accuracy.

It's a goal! London Three-Pints go ahead! The ball was drilled low and hard into the corner.

The messiah hacks it clear in a panic, the ball goes into touch. In that position, sometimes you do not look for the pass, you just clear it, and that is exactly what he did. Jimmy Neutron loses his aerial duel against the opposition midfielder, he could not get position before the jump. HEAAAAADER from Elvis Presley! He launches himself at the cross from Jesus Christ but it goes just over! Vlad the Impaler lumps it out of his box. Elegance can wait, this was all-out war.

Level score. Vlad the Impaler screams at the sky out of frustration — we were leading at half time. Elvis Presley boots a stray training ball as far as he can, just to let it out. The ref watches, doesn't love it, lets it go. Everyone understands. Derek from Tunbridge Wells says it rhymes with gone and the entire studio audience has erupted into civil war. He still gets the membership though. And finally, your bedtime viewing: 'Countryfile, but filmed entirely in a Tesco car park in Basingstoke.' Adam Henson pets a shopping trolley. It's surprisingly moving. Goodnight.