16 October 2009 (Premiership Preview)

"A shameful display": Eamon Dunphy on Ireland's performance against Italy.

"Dunphy's a skinny little rat": Stephen Hunt, channelling the famous pizza delivery scene in Home Alone.

"I might have lost a few pounds but Eamon f*cking Dunphy I am not. Yeeeaaahhhh.": Roland Rat.

First off, I will have to apologise in advance for the harried nature of this week's missive. I struggled to get a short communique describing my current predicament and a short note on the Ireland Italy clash sent out, when word has it that my telegram was intercepted on the mainland. After missing my allotted interweb time, the only option open to me was the 'Correspondence Cow,' a lumbering hunched fresian, complete with woven sack, eye patch and wellies, that has been used to transport letters and emergency telegrams for the past twelve years (the bovine postal system works by punters paying for a space on the animal's hide. The message is placed in an envelope and then attached to the prepaid allocated space). At first, I tried in vain to ensure the message was placed in the sack around the cow's head. This was dismissed immediately as I was assured that the item was just a fashion accessory. It seems that Daisy had acquired a little bit of a 'Lysergic Acid' addiction several years ago after eating a large Battenberg being sent by the "quiet Dutch chap who lived in the wee bungalow. Loved his garden, spent morning and night tending to those plants. Then he disappeared just like that. Pity really, he was very popular with the young folk," as described by my Landlady. My sources tell me that it was laced with so much of the substance that Daisy spent three weeks chewing cud non-stop, distanced herself from the herd with her erratic rolling and mooing and then disappeared for five months, only to return wearing a rolled up red cloth tied around her forehead and, perched atop her head, a mullet-like hat, fashioned from the hide of a large woodland creature.

According to what I have been able to piece together from various sources, Daisy was distracted by a particularly flowery looking patch of colour on the upholstery of the seats on the ship to the mainland. She has always been allowed to travel with the human cargo on the boat, but obviously chose that day to have a relapse and flashback to her woodland excursion. Chaos ensued as she proceeded to digest any material within a three metre radius of where she was sitting. In a boat with a total square foot capacity of about three metres, this meant she tore through every conceivable piece of matter. The skeletal remains of the vessel finally arrived at port, where several of the passengers and the Captain, bar his cap, stood naked and shivering as she was removed by Harbour Patrol. At this point an alarm distress signal had been sent out and a major operation was underway involving two patrol boats and a crane. Daisy was winched out, mouth still wrapped around a ladies cardigan and weighing as much as Gerry Ryan's chin cupboard, and lowered onto the jetty. As she was lowered down, she was sedated and brought into the Harbour office for questioning. All her items were confiscated. This is where my letter was intercepted.

It seems that the F.A.I. have 'rats' everywhere, and Stephen Hunt isn't the only one with a bone to pick. They were contacted immediately by the source and the telegram, which I had sent to the offices of Entertainment.ie, was reported. I've made reference to my time working in Azerbaijan already in previous Aranman columns, but failed to mention the terms of my release from contract. Part of my severance was to agree to, "never, under any circumstances, preview, analyse or discuss" any football games that related in any way to the Ireland football team and especially, "any items relating to the workings of the Football Association of Ireland." I broke this rule and now I am writing this under duress of time and fear of recrimination. I haven't been in my room for the past week, and have been living, not unlike poor Daisy, amongst the woodland creatures and looming trees of Inis Itty Forest. My Landlady, Ms. Hujarse, was woken in the middle of the night by rustling in the hedge outside. Peering out through a partially lifted bedroom curtain, she saw several shadowy Ninja-like figures crouched and beginning to surround the front of the cottage. Immediately she ran into my room and woke me, with an



alarmed whisper which rose to frantic concern, "There's some fellahs out on the lawn, some black lads, are you some kind of racialist? Get out of my house, get OUT!" And this is where I find myself, like a woolly Ray Mears, cowering in a hut I fashioned from sticks and a sheet. I must explain myself to Hujarse. The house has probably been ransacked at this stage. The F.A.I. Special Squad will stop at nothing. I'm expecting to return to a horse's head in my bed if Trapattoni is involved. I can see John Delaney, Head of the F.A.I. now, "Alright, listen up, people. Our fugitive has been on the run for six days. Average foot speed over uneven ground barring injuries is 4 miles-per-hour. That gives us a radius of six miles. What I want from each and every one of you is a hard-target search of every residence, warehouse, farmhouse, henhouse, outhouse and doghouse in that area. Checkpoints go up at fifteen miles. Your fugitive's name is Aran Man."

I have to go now. Hopefully I will be back to myself next week. Below are some hasty predictions. Got to go now and forage for food... Oh Jesus. Is that a badger...

Sat 17th October 2009
Aston Villa v Chelsea 12:45 (1 - 1)
Arsenal v Birmingham 15:00 (3 - 1)
Everton v Wolves 15:00 (2 - 2)
Man Utd v Bolton 15:00 (2 - 0)
Portsmouth v Tottenham 15:00 (1 - 2)
Stoke City v West Ham Utd 15:00 (2 - 0)
Sunderland v Liverpool 15:00 (2 - 1. Gerrard and Torres missing, so Liverpool Reserves will be fielded)

Sun 18th October 2009
Wigan Athletic v Manchester City 16:00 (1 - 1)

Pick of the weekend:
*Blackburn v Burnley 13:00 (3 - 3) Broken bones = (4 - 3)

*This is the East Lancashire Derby and has a rivalry as heated as The Old Firm. Legend has it that on a typically wet Lancastrian day nearly 121 years ago, Rovers romped to a stunning 7-1 win and as legend goes, Blackburn's Jack Southworth hit a shot for his side's opening goal that was so thunderous it was said to have burst the ball. The real Hot-Shot Hamish.

Till next week. "Same Aran Time, Same Aran Sweater."

NEXT INSTALLMENT OF ARANMAN // PREVIOUS INSTALLMENT OF ARAN MAN

Back to Other Exclusives