After an hour and a half in the gym, I was ready for all that day two of Godendag could throw at me……

We drove to Firestorm Games, eager to see how our gaming chums were doing after a night of dancing and fine wine.

Or, 

Colin woke like an angry bear from the spare room whilst Jackson continued to pump out the same ungodly noises that he’d been making since two o ‘clock that morning. We then had to stop a tramp from wrestling a Greggs breakfast roll out of Chris’ hands as Colin scraped his front mudguard along the front of Chez Jackson. And what was worse? We would face Fry and Unwin in game three……

West of Aust, these two strike fear into any ambitious L’art de la Guerre ratings freak. Combine the computer like memory of Mr. Fry and the aquiline poise of the “Wit of Berkley Vale’ and you have a fearsome team. Despite knowing every list by heart, The Fry deity had gone for Alexander the Great and his Indian allies. There must be a ploy…

Jungles in the middle of the table, that I unwisely brought nearer our table edge. Elephants and bowmen, nothing spectacular yet. Pikemen in the gaps between the shrubbery. I could of guessed that. But then, it started…..

I thought I could inflict hits on the elephants that could not be rallied back. Unwin charged forward and caught a few double ranked cavalry units. Unlike light horse that can evade in two ranks, our heavier horse had to take it. But the flank held. It was on the other flank that the genius showed. Greek and Macedonian light horse screamed past our Persian flanks and sat behind our gallant horsemen. They do not add to the combat but rather, they prevented our horsemen from evading from the pike blocks. In D.B.M. Terms the dynamic duo had reinvented the “buttocks of death”. It wasn’t pretty, it was like watching Santa repeated punching a child in the face- awful to watch but you just can’t stop yourself watching.

Ever had that feeling?