Burnley FC - 25 Years of The London Clarets - the Modern Pentathlon

Date: 24 February 2001
Event 2: Visit to Moorhouse's brewery (the hammer)
Number of athletes: 20 something

Well, this was all a very long time ago indeed. Cast your minds back if you can to a damp and chilly Saturday morning in Lancashire. Early on, before opening time even, up Burnley's venerable Accy Road, we spy a group of our finest, coughing, shuffling, attempting to keep warm, huddling against the wind, battling with the Friday night legitimate late-drinking hangover, trying to come to terms with not being on the habitual Virgin bulletin train aimed like a supersonic arrow at the heart of old Prestonia. A wooden door swings open, a sturdy checked-shirted fellow utters the password, and suddenly they are welcomed into the cosy bosom of Moorhouse's Burnley brewery. We are here at last. Our journey has ended. This is the source of the Black Cat.

A fine time was had by all on the tour to see where Burnley's award winning beers are produced, but seen through the prism of the intervening months, it all goes a little hazy. Honest, that's true, it's down to the fateful workings of time that your faithful judges struggle to recall a single damned thing that happened that day. It has nothing to do with the fact that the fiver fee included not just pie and peas but three pints of Burnley's finest, including the at-this-time-of-the-morning Pendle Witches, nor the following joyful surge down Accy Road, the Havelock and eventually the Sparrow. Well, that's the judges' story and we're sticking to it.

Okay, so what we can remember is that several new competitors, absent from the first event, joined the fray at round two. We welcome, in no particular order except alphabetical, Beckett N, Firmin L, Pratley P, Trippier J, Webster J and Wood K. For any omissions, apologies. One person who we absolute cannot welcome is Fell Walking Pete. The slender one was supposed to show, but missed the starter's gun due to a serious case of not getting up on time. Feeble stuff, Fell Walking, for which we can award you absolutely no points.

A far more notable effort to get on the board was made by Pauline. Now Pauline, you must understand, is what you call not much of a drinker. Perhaps a small sweet sherry in the event of a particularly good Burnley away victory by two clear goals, but apart than that, her other half, gruff Yorkshireman Patrick, can swig enough for two. But in the post-tour pub she surpassed herself by actually sipping a pint of beer. Don't think she liked it, but it's amazing the things people will do for a mention.

The leaders, however, will remain untroubled by the performance. The astonishing - and, for the judges, disappointing - thing is that only a handful - literally five - competitors from the first event, the AGM venues pub crawl, entered the second discipline. It may be that many were scared off by the standard set that dizzy night in London town. But the hard fact is that, if you don't turn up, you don't get points. It's that simple. So, the bottom line is that one of these five is going to win it: Benny, Woody, Cozzo, Paddy and Firmo.

And so to our premier celebration event, about which what can we possibly say? Everyone enjoyed themselves to the fullest amidst the unusually prestigious surroundings, notwithstanding the conspicuous lack of real ale. Still, along with the lunch itself, there were always the before and after sessions. On this occasion we understand the concept of 'lunch' to be the time between 11am and 11pm. And, although the Buckingham Arms threatened to put a spoke in our to-be-well-oiled wheels by opening at the scandalously late hour of 11.07, the judges were impressed by the sheer number of people who were there compensating for this tardy start by drinking just a little faster before our jaunt down Westminster way. Suffice to say that all five potential winners joined the fray at an early hour, clearly cognisant of the fact that lunch marked the event's half way stage and this is where it starts getting serious. We think there were those still going, if not strong, then at least still going, some twelve hours later, but frankly, by then the judges had thrown in the towel, or rather, would have, had such an action not called for a frankly unfeasible act of bodily co-ordination.

Now obviously we're talking circa three figures here, so we don't propose to name all the newcomers to join the event at this stage. It would be akin to the Commonwealth games, where minnow territories such as Gibraltar, St Helena and Wales compete and get their fleeting moment's fame. We shall simply select some highlights.

In the absence of anything resembling beer - the judges spotted some swift necking of bottles of absurd Carl-something-or-other on the sunny Thameside terrace, but that was all - viniculture came into its own. And the Claret flowed. Particularly impressive here was someone who is technically a non-competitor, Mrs Hego, AKA SWMBO. Yes, Henry VIII's wife - we're not sure which of the six, although she claims to be the one who survives - was not unpartial to a drop of the ruby stuff between courses. The same, regrettably, cannot be said of the Iron Chancellor, who refused all contact with the grape and nursed a tumbler of milk throughout the proceedings. Looks like more marks dropped for MEB. Oh dear. He should have followed the example of Phil Whalley, who clearly wasn't quite sure if he'd enjoyed the bottle he'd hurled down his neck already; our 1920s man taste tested the dregs of other people's leavings at the end of the meal. Congratulations of a different order are also due to resident eco warrior Tree Climbing John, for behaving himself and not actually shinning up anything as a protest against Tibet's occupation of China, or whatever.

Headgear must be raised to all the celebrity guests, particularly Tommy Cummings, who gave every impression of fancying the post match tour of the Lord Moon of the Mall to that of the House, but who was sadly persuaded otherwise.

The judges have unanimously decided that this particular event was won by Firmo, largely because they saw him the next day, and anyone who looked that bad must have pulled off a personal best. Bonus points are given because he managed to get into yet another Kilby coat, this time Sonya's, in exchange for a rather fetching blue anorak.

And, with the space filled and lots of funny stories forgotten, it only remains to leave you with an updated leader board (top twenty only). Tune in next issue for the final placings.

Position	Athlete	Points
1	Woody	2,767
2	Firmo Sr	2,403
3	Cozzo	2,312
4	Benny	2,137
5	Patrick	1,835
6	Hego	1,643
7	Parko	1,382
8	Joe Lote	1,239
9	Jeff Bottwood	1,226
10	Heads	1,194
11	John Pepper	946
12	Bob Blow	817
13	John Webster	666
14	Phil Whalley	652
15	Dave Mac	647
16	Smiffy	569
17	Kev Wood	530
18	Becko	528
19	Firmo Jr	510
20	Trippo	418