As for Renny, if he's not in work by tomorrow, someone should notify the authorities as his arse is probably stuck to his mattress! The wee G-man was left with a derier that resembled Simon Weston's face following a rather rash sliding challenge from behind on the unforgiving astroturf surface. Messrs Hocking and Howell exchanged a nod of appreciation for the opposition defender's efforts whilst the boy Reynaldo remonstrated quite vociferously with the referee. On the touchline, an enthusiastic Mr Wellings appeared to be giving the said defender a standing ovation. High praise indeed!
The renowned professionalism of the ISA shone through as always;
"How are you feeling Brighty?"
"I feel sick and I need a shit but I'll start".
Howell: "I fuckin hope to god we go out in the next game. I NEED to get to the pub soon" (Howell had earlier filled a large carrier bag with the contents of his stomach following the pre-match warm up).
Other members of the elite band of ISA stars (bar Ren and DC Thomas) also had the odd stray unit or 12 running through their systems from the inevitable carniage a Saturday evening brings. Indeed, everyone could empathise with the big man when he exclaimed that he had "sweat 3 fuckin pints of Carling" out of his system during one 12 minute match in the blistering Connah's Quay heat.
