Psychic octopus steals underpants

July 1, 2010

At last the true horror of England’s elimination from the World Cup can be revealed in an Ambuscade exclusive.

My sources in the paranormal underground reveal that Paul the ‘psychic’ octopus is in fact a psycho-telekinetic one, with the ability to control minds from a distance. Alleged to be in the pay of Bavarian betting syndicates, his powers are controlled using so called ‘food’. These syndicates have manipulated their tentacled patsy into destablising the England camp and causing embolisms in the Uruguayan officials during the England/Germany match.

I can now reveal that various cleaners in the England hotel fell under the octupine spell and were bewitched into stealing items of the Team’s underwear. A deeply superstitious bunch, England players can only play to their potential when wearing their ‘lucky pants’. Rooney’s favourite Desperate Dan briefs went missing early on in the tournament spreading fear throughout the team. As the rounds progressed, further items went missing. Gareth Barry’s speedy gonzales boxers, John Terry’s designer micky mouse Y fronts and Frank Lampard’s ‘tizer’ branded incontinence nappy all disappeared, resulting in a devastating effect on team ability and concentration. Forced to wear unfamilar and unbranded underwear, England fell apart.

Of course, a tactical genius like the uber-octopus had a further ace up its sucker. At the precise moment when the shot from Lampard crossed the line (interestingly, Lampard reports this being the only time his south african pants felt comfortable and ‘secure’) our eight limbed nemesis focused all its attention on the match officials, causing temporary embolisms in their visual cortexes. Prevented by FIFA from using anything other than their senses to make decisions, the helpless officials disallowed the goal and the rest is history, mein aquatischen fuhrer!

The world awaits the octopus’ approach to Maradona (my prediction is a half-time nude abuse of his vuvuzela in the centre circle) and the rest of the teams remaining in Germany’s way. As the saying goes: “Football is a simple game, 22 men kick a ball up and down the pitch for 90 minutes then, following telekinetic intervention by a corrupt cephalopod mollusk, the Germans win.”

As for me, I am putting on my anti-octopus lead helmet and returning to non-league drinking in Rotheram. I will return only when the octopus, and all his teutonic kind, are served in batter with a nice garlic mayonnaise.

Dave ‘Long Live the Vertebrates’ Ambuscade


England victory certain

June 26, 2010

Despite the predictions of Paul the Octopus (who I believe to be the innocent dupe of Bavarian betting syndicates) I confidently predict an England win tomorrow.  Its the first of a three stage war re-enactment that will take in World War II, the Falklands (quarter final) and then the Armarda (semi final).  Don Fabio and the English press will be fully behind it and, unlike our new Prime Minister, I will be mentioning the war!!

After that it will be Brazil in the final.  Piece of piss.  Enough said.

Then it will be 1966 all over again.  I could have played in that final but FIFA banned me on the grounds that my steel leg would reflect the sun’s light into ‘Der Kaiser’s eyes, giving our lads an unfair advantage.  Then Geoff Hurst stole it to provide the metal for a hasty replacement trophy after the original got stolen.  That was nothing to do with me either, and the fact that the original ransom note is in a Durban exhibition hall while I am here too is entirely co-incidental.

Am off now to make my Nacho Libre mask for Mexico V Argentina.  My plan is to run onto the field, snip off Messi’s real leg, replace it with my spare plastic one and then exit quietly stage left.  With the mask on and the Mexican wave I’ll have started going strong, nobody will see me.  Its flawless.

Dave ‘El Pinko Panthera’ Ambuscade

Allez les bleus – all the way home!

June 23, 2010

So the French depart. And there was much weeping and annoyed shrugging and, outside France, much sniggering and cackling.

For Don Fabio’s brave boys the chance at the second round beckons clearly, over the skies of Slovenia. Wherever it is. I may have been there on a drunken bender back in the fifties, I’m not sure. I’ll have to check my diaries, or the stasi records my historian recently unearthed. It seems that the secret police of most of eastern europe kept a close eye on my false leg during our tours. They suspected me of using it to courier secret microfilms of honey-trapped communist dignatories back to blighty. You will have to wait another 30 years to find out the truth of this but let me just say – when Peter ‘pretty boy’ Zambezi put on a wig, he could pass for Zsa Zsa Gabor on a windy day!!

Enough said on that front (and what Eric Hoenecker didn’t know, didn’t hurt him!)

Now for the game. I expect an offensive formation, and not just that on Rooney’s face. Will the midfield paring of Gerrard and Lampard survive? My advice to Don Fabio is to borrow advanced surgery techniques from my prosthetic supplier and combine them into an unstoppable four legged football crustacean – the eight limbed Gerlamps Crab. Removing their arms and adding them to the James torso will achieve the doubled benefit of eliminating handball problems as the Gerlamps Crab scuttles around the six-yard box and will provide a 400% efficiency improvement in the performance of the James Calamity Engine. Football, and biological, history beckons.

Come on England, your shoreline bretheren expect!

Dave ‘seafood platter’ Ambuscade

Hubris is a dish best served a La Francais

June 18, 2010

Sacres bleus!! Viva mexico!! Arriba arriba nachos libres!!

Por tois le cup is oveur.  A dour display by the sons of la republic leaves them at the mercy of others (yet again, nobody mention the war).

While the french cockerel fails to wake for the dawn, no doubt too tired after a night with underage denizens of the bois de bologne, the english lion awakes to another feasting day on the african plains.

With last week’s diplomatic tie with the USA well under the bridge (and Robert Green making good headway in his secret quest to single handedly rescue the special relationship after the BP well debacle), attention now focuses on the Algeria game.

The masterful Don Fabio’s plan is progressing well, I fully expect a revived strikeforce with  Defoe and Rooney up front with Gerrard coming in from behind.  Attack from the front lads, defend high up the pitch and take your chances well, In other words don’t be French,

Despite the insular views of those untravelled and myopic fans wanting the BBC to bleep out the Vuvuzelas I am a personal fan of them.  Not only do they function as a spare leg (always useful) but can be used as a funnel through which to pour the budweiser (the only beer allowed at the stadiums) into the sea.  FIFA – whathaf**k?  Not even the yanks drink it! and at 30 rand (3 quid) a bottle its overpriced, undercooled and unfortunately, much like Frank Ribery, over here,

My prediction today is for a sudetenland stalemate, a yankee doodle dandy and a narrow England win with the british tabloids resurrecting headlines from Monty’s north african campaign.

Au revior again ma plucky franch freenz.


Dave ‘insert vuvuzela here’ Ambuscade

Pictures from Germany vs Australia in Durban

June 14, 2010