What's A Man Gotta Do To Get A Game In Midfield Around Here?

Rich Allan (pictured above), he needs help.

Life’s not all for laughs you know. Sooner or later there’s tough decisions to be made. Which credit card will provide me with the lowest annual percentage rate for the longest period of time? Will blanching or steaming be better suited to cooking my trimmed asparagus? And last, but not least, what’s the most effective way to convince a good friend’s fiancée that he really ought to be sectioned under the mental health act of 2007?

I’ve got his best interests at heart, but any thirty-one year old man who handles and discusses plastic figurines that serve as miniature representations of characters from the Star Wars films with the wide eyed enthusiasm of a child clearly has problems in my book. Ones that need addressing. The only answer of course is the psychiatric ward. When and only when he‘s secured in a maximum security hospital can he be treated for these delusions and then maybe, just maybe, providing me with an opportunity to take his place in the Burridge midfield.


As you can imagine, his wife to be was a little taken aback when I approached her on the subject. She didn’t consider his hobby a particular threat to their relationship until I mentioned his secret plans for their wedding. The problem with the truth is that people don’t want to hear it. You have to break it to them gently. That, or fabricate a story that helps you achieve your goal of returning to your rightful place in the Burridge midfield. One minute he’s rooting through the car boot sales looking for bargains from a galaxy far away , the next he’s secretly arranging a Star Wars themed wedding that requires guests to dress appropriately.

I made the investigations as any good friend would. It appears the National Health Service don’t consider a Star Wars obsession as reason enough to detain anyone. They soon changed their tune when I mentioned the domestic violence. I can’t reiterate that the difference between an adequate and an excellent telephone impersonation of your close friend’s fiancée often rests on having the ability to break into tears.

Which let me tell you is pretty straightforward in comparison to returning to your rightful place anchoring the Burridge midfield. Life is as complicated as we want to make it. When our friends are in danger from themselves it’s too easy to turn a blind eye and not exercise loyalty, kindness and fraud. If you don’t act quickly your friend’s terrible illness may never be given the treatment it deserves, namely in a maximum security mental facility where another course of electroconvulsive therapy is only another hour away. If you didn’t act upon the situation could you call yourself a true friend? Could you look yourself in the mirror at night? Could you ever realistically be asked to operate in a 4-4-2 formation in the middle of the park away to Hythe & Dibden reserves? I rest my case.