MERLINS BRIDGE 1 MANORBIER 8

Manorbier brewed up a heady potion comprising a lock of hair from Chris Waddle's Marseille mullet, two droplets of champagne from the lips of a French aristocrat's unwedded daughter and one part grit from a coal miner's eye, to cast a spell over a Merlins Bridge team who played as though they had enjoyed a week of Friday nights, and added yet another three points to this season's tally.

The day started for Manorbier in a somewhat ramshackle fashion, reminiscent of the 2009/2010 season when getting a team together was a miracle in itself. With just nine players available, and under an hour to kick off, several of the team were roaming around the streets of the picturesque Norman village in the hope of finding someone with two legs and a pulse to complete the line-up.

Then Jake Webster arrived, with both legs intact, and his pulse racing having had to yomp back from Freshwater East following a sleepover party, and then - like manna from heaven - Gareth Cochran also appeared uttering the immortal words "I don't mind playing in nets."

He was bundled into an unmarked car, and with a full complement, the merry band of travellers set off for Haverfordwest, albeit feeling somewhat unprepared.

Having suffered their heaviest defeat of the season against the Merlins pre-Christmas, but knowing they were now playing much better football, there was an air of nervous apprehension as Manorbier took to the pitch.

Things started badly, as Blackwell played a back-pass to James Llewellyn (who usually stands somewhere near the halfway line when playing in goal), forgetting that it was in fact Mr. G. Cochran who had donned the gloves in Llewellyn's absence. Gareth was, conventionally, standing inside his 18-yard box, and thus the back-pass was intercepted by the Merlins forward - who gratefully tucked it into the Manorbier net.

One-nil down, the visitors feared the worst. But what followed was quite simply a magical display of fluid, fantastical football by the 'bier. Blackwell started the mauling when he burst through the middle of the pitch, threw a dummy that even Askew would have been proud of, then thwacked the ball into the net.

Thereafter, Manorbier never looked back. The back line of The Power Williams, El Groino Grover, Oily Hall and singer-songwriter Hamilton made the game look easy. The midfield of Legs Webster, Le Cigarillo Askew, Blackwell and Slickness Hall passed through, around, over and under their opponents. And The Foreigner Lane and David Villa impersonator Spic combined up front like peanut butter and jam to run the sweetest of rings around a hapless Merlins defence.

In the pummelling that followed, Jake Webster and Blackwell bagged a brace apiece, but it was Lane who was chief tormentor as he snaffled yet another hat-trick, with the final goal coming from whom I can't remember (by the 80th minute goals were going in roughly every 35 seconds) to make Merlins' day out thoroughly miserable, with Manorbier winning 8-1.

Tomorrow (Saturday) sees Manorbier hosting local rivals Tenby in what promises to be a mouth-watering clash - but probably not as mouth-watering as the Manorbier shop's tasty jaffas which will no doubt be fuelling the home side in their quest to do the double over a Dinbych-y-pysgod side who will be trying not to play like little fishes against the marauding sharks that Manorbier have become