ROARY VERSUS ... GUNNERSAURUS

Pundit's Prediction: Gunnersaurus, or Luscusauria- literally meaning 'blind dinosaur' to use its Latin name, is one of the lesser-known breeds of dinosaurs that existed in the Cretaceous period.

Characterised by its long clumsy neck, synthetic polyester like fur and strangely disturbing circular head, the fossil of this species discovered in Milan in 1996 was nicknamed Vieiraosaur by boring scientists in white coats thinking that they were amusing. Indeed other similarities between the dinosaur and the midfield man also exist as the shape of its nose implies that it was prone to sneezing all over it's chest, which often left a scummy viscous residue all over its fur. It is believed that this sneezing actually aided breathing and enabled it to run faster and longer when chasing prey. Or at least that's what the scientists say anyway.

The Gunnersaurus also has modest wings, which it rarely uses due to its fear of flying, even in the most necessary or urgent of survival situations, like requiring a win in Moscow for qualification to the knock-out stages of the Champions League. Known for its astonishingly short temper, it is prone to making rash and erratic decisions when battling against its prey, often seeing red a good seven or eight times a year. However due to its poor eyesight, it is common for the others in the herd, which typically number around 30 or 40, to conveniently not see this aggression, which often results in them closing ranks due to their feeling victimised by the other creatures.

Because of this, despite their common habitat being in the deserts of North London, you may also encounter one in the centre of the city as the migration of the species towards the offices of the FA disciplinary panel in Soho Square is becoming increasingly common. Yet despite this inherent ferocity, it should be no match for the Roar-ster due to all dinosaurs being extinct now for over 65 million years. Yet the fact that Emile Heskey is continually picked for England implies that stranger things have happened and thus it would be unwise to pledge your full support to our leonine hero against this prostrate fossil. Or George Best as it's more commonly known.

The tactics to employ against this beast are many. It is well known that it harbours many cups and trophies, which it is not afraid to use as a weapon against what it sees as unjust criticism. Yet Roary himself has such a weapon in his arsenal, and with its robust construction and handy three handles, this could be the undoing of the London dinosaur- did anyone hear the words Ken Livingstone? No?. Furthermore it is well known that the Gunnster (who makes excellent Cornish pasties I believe) has had a turbulent career, in an earlier carnation often being addled on drink and drugs. The size of his nose in itself implies he can snort vast quantities of cocaine, so if Roary turns up with an eighth and a six-pack then all should be set for a comfortable victory. It will certainly put the 'high' back into Highbury anyway.

Finally- MACCELSFIELD TOWN nick our mascot name shock! They have a Roary the Lion too! Bastards. Mrs. Lion obviously gets herself around a bit. And has chronic alzheimer's to boot, forgetting that she had already called her son by one name and giving that name to another one of her litter! What is the world coming to?! And Merthyr Tydfil's mascot is called Shaggy the Sheep! No comments please!


London bobbies confiscate Tony Adams' half time refreshments

The match: Flags grace the perimeter of the arena as both contenders run out, the home crowd stoked and aroused at the prospect of an easy victory ahead. And then they remember that Gunnersaurus is heavy with child and that they had better be quiet for the sake of apathetic indulgence. Considerately, this quiet remains for the rest of the match. Meanwhile Gunnersaurus looks out at the flags ringing the battleground, the sempahore message of tactics being relayed with pinpoint precision, whilst Roary looks on in ignorant bemusement annoyed by the razzamattaz and the fake aspect of it all. A few fat kids start to tire and the message becomes distorted. The one on the halfway line looks up at the dino and sees his eyebrows constrict, whilst his lumbering green frame edges slowly towards him, striding with purpose and passion towards his petrified prey, his eyes boring holes straight through his young heart. The kid stares back as if confronting a bear, rooted and unsure as to what to do next. Five yards elapse and still he remains, shivering slightly in contrast to the warm summer heat. Another five yards, ten, then fifteen, as the dinosaur picks up speed and lets out a loud roar. The crowd instinctively cheer at the prospect of a score, the only time that they cheer throughout the whole game, as the kid breaks his stoicism and turns round to flee as a green furry hand presses hard into his shoulder and forces him to concede. Fearing the end of the game, the kid turns around slowly, with tears in his eyes and death in his soul, knowing that he's failed the omniscient and he's about to fall foul of the monumental rage he can feel whenever he is agrieved. The dinosaur feels a small pang of sympathy, one that is swiftly corroded and buried deep down, as he snatches the flag from the trembling boy and takes two steps backwards preparing for the kill. And then, like Kieth Chegwin on Ritalin, he starts to perform a little dance, the flag twisting and twirling gracefully in the air as if showing the wayward child how to perform his role so he would stop showing him up to the thousands of fans. Staring at the child's dampening eyes he gently proffers the flag back to him, trying to insert it into his hand so he can continue his job. But at that instant the rage of being humiliated wells up and ejaculates from inside him, the anger fuelled by testosterone and the desire to always come top. And with that he snatches the flag once again from the boy and repeatedly strikes the hapless kid on the head until he falls down in a pool of his tears. He then kicks him once more for daring to fail before throwing the flag on the top of the corpse, urging the stewards to take him away and despatch of this quarry, in a fit of ruthlessness that Thierry Henry would be proud of when he was in front of goal. Meanwhile Roary looks on amazed at the events he's just witnessed as he starts to psych himself up for the gruelling battle ahead.

Round one begins and Roary is clearly out of sorts as the dinosaur immediately sets out on the offensive, punch after punch being heard in the deafening silence as Roary has little time to try and find his paws. A few minutes in and there is a desperate scramble as a flurry of strikes head in the lion's direction. Stunned, these cause him to stumble back towards one of the posts, hitting the corner of the ring with considerable force. However this does not knock him out nor does it gain the dino a point and he comes back to the fray although he is still out of character. More punches reign in as the lion is overwhelmed, the library becoming more like a mortuary due to the massacre viewed. And then Gunnersaurus finds the breakthrough he needs as Roary leaves himself exposed in more ways than one as he is caught out by his shorts, which slowly fall down displaying his most personal of assets. Quickly he kneels down to try and put them back on, his face blushing at the embarrassment of what is on show whilst the audience wolfwhislte at our leonine fiend distracting his thought and allowing the dino in for the kill. And with this brief second of distraction the dino jumps from high on the ropes, arching over the lion to pin him down for the easiest of points. The crowd cheer, awoken from their slumber as they take a deserved lead, whilst Roary stares at the sky with his shorts round his ankles, breathless and giddy as if he had just cracked one off/had passionate sex. The dinosaur flexes his biceps and rubs his pouting stomach with pride, expecting a comfortable victory from here as his opponent will now have to attack. This is not what happens however as Roary is stunned even more, distracted at the thought of his lionhood being on show, wondering how this would affect his harem of lionnesses and the chances of rich pickings come the end of the night. And with that thought of prowess he is suddenly aroused as a blood curdling roar resonates around the stadium as he looks at the clock to see it's nearly the end of the half and if he wanted some action he would first have to perform in the ring. He stared straight at the dinosaur and started to dance, weaving and dodging to confuse his opponent, twisting and turning to run his defence ragged before he smacks Gunnersaurus square in the face causing him to fall down in shock and level the score. The crowd cheer louder than at any time in the match, the handful of Roary supporters going wild with delight, as the half time whistle approaches and the score reads 1-1. Suddenly optimism abounds as they head for the break.

Start of the second half and suddenly everything has changed, with Roary starting to show what he can do against one of the best in the land. This was down to the half time team talk which consisted of his manager instigating two major changes. The first was to goad the lion with the warming scent of a freshly microwaved parmo, which was kept just far enough away from the lion so that his salviating palate could not get to it. The idea was to offer it as an incentive to winning, knowing that it would be something that Roary would desperately want, but in making Roary yearn for the cheese atop succulent tender breast fillet the plan somewhat backfired, as Roary punched his manager in the face to grab the parmo off him, scoffing it down with the gluttony of a drunk.

The other tactic was noticeable as he walked out on to the pitch as in fear of a repeat of his embarrassing incident, as well as attempting a tactical change, his manager had an Alex Ferguson moment and decided he should change his strip- into that of a caveman from the local fancy dress shop. This made him look like as awful as a completely different Fergie and generated a considerable amount of laughter from the partisan crowd but it seemed to do the trick almost immediately from the restart, as five minutes in Roary went on his first major offensive, tearing straight through the heart of the Gunnersaurus' startled defence emitting a bloodcurdling 'Yabba-dabba-doo'. Indeed the tactical change was starting to bear fruit as dressed in this way, Roary had started to confuse the poor dino. This was because he now looked like Fred Flintstone, which made the dino convinced that he should be Roary's pet and thus be so loyal to this most neanderthal of masters. He was also thinking of his possible experiences with Wilma after the match, should he win. It was this that played into Roary's hands as over the next ten minutes he pummelled the hapless amphibian into the ground. This was emphasised after the second point was gained after which he strapped a ready made dino collar around Gunnersaurus' neck and pulled it so tightly, that breathing was almost no longer an option, to demonstrate his subjugation at the paws of the lion. It was around this point in the match that it descended into farce, with one or two members of the crowd trying to storm the arena, claiming that Roary should be charged with animal cruelty and that the sport was merely exploitation of animals. On hearing such allegations Roary turned round and growled at them noisely, whilst the organisers protested that the only animals were the ones in the crowd.

After which Roary went for his cue d'grace, pulling out his big weapon- the Carling Cup, with which he started to pummel the hapless dino. His moves were aided by its three handled construction, which made it easier to grip as well as making it a more versitile weapon. From this Roary scored another point, sending his supporters into bewildered delirium. In reaction Roary performed his trademark dance to the noise of the fans, lapping up the glory like a C-list celebrity. It was this humiliation that spurned Gunnersaurus into action as he pulled out his bigger weapon in an attempt at the counter- the Barclaycard Premiership trophy. The battle that followed was exceedingly bloody. Both sides gave it their all but of the two trophies the Carling Cup was inferior, with Roary often finding himself impotent in attack and exposed in defence, the latter being due to the devestating cuts that were made by the spiky crown on the top of the Premiership trophy. His confidence waining, the dinosaur dealt an earlier sucker punch, seeing Roary's right being exposed and there for the taking. Roary himself had also known this but there was an air of inevitability about it as he continually backed off until there was nowhere left to go and he would just have to take it. The punch duly came.

And then it got worse as the dino started to squeeze out her egg, making her turn on all males for the pain she now felt and the nearest male was the lion stood opposite her in the ring, and it was towards him that all her frustration was borne. The egg dropped on Roary's foot in ovulated distraction whilst the Premier league trophy did the business again, the crown of thorns at the top now glistening with Roary's blood, it trickling into the reciptical at the base of the trophy, to be mixed with champagne and drank at the end of this success. And then almost immediately another blow dented his chances, the Carling Cup being useless in terms of this season's form. Tarnished but plucky, Roary still put up a fight but with first blood to the dinosaur, he knew it was futile. He tried to attack but he kept being rebuffed whilst the dino still threatened, particularly down his opponent's battered right hand side. This came to fruition in the final minute of the match as again he was exposed and another point was acrewed. This led Gunnersaurus to tear off his collar and put it round Roary's neck, a divine retribution for daring to compete not conform, for daring to put up a fight instead of rolling over and die, for daring not to be in awe of the mighty Gunnersaurus. The final whistle blew at the moment the dinosaur attached a lead, and forced Roary to walk on all fours whilst he rode on his back, the humiliation endemic in the heart of the lion as his supporters applauded his efforts of nearly obtaining a win. Gunnersaurus meanwhile, stared at the crowd and applauded their silence, for allowing him to get on with the job with the minimum of fuss as he climbed off of the back of the lion and left him wounded and bruised, to lick his wounds in the ring whilst he celebrated his win. It was an insult that Roary vowed he would never forget...

Betfair

Sky Bet

Coral

Betfair

Sky Bet

Coral

Betfair

Sky Bet

Sky Bet

Coral

Betfair

Sky Bet

Betfair

Coral

Betfair

Extrabet

Betfair