Indigo

Arriving in the Diggers last night I found the place in a state of uproar. Grown men were lying on the floor. Here and there people were clutching each other for support and the barman was frantically trying to open a window for fresh air. I soon established that the cause of this most undesirable state of affairs was that some sort of apparition had apparently appeared before the patrons. I must say that I was instantly sceptical, but there was no doubt that something quite untoward had occurred. At last I found a chap who was able to understand my questions, but the power of speech had quite departed from him; he could only gesticulate towards a screen above the door. Here, a small Argentinian gentleman was scuttling over a large area of grass, a ball miraculously following his every move. Clearly a hoax of some kind, but impressive in its way. Can he head it, though? Could he out-jump Crawford Baptie?


Today though (above), Shroppy's leaving do! 1975 he started. That doesn't sound like 37 years ago at all.