大象传媒

By Lowen P

In the dusty back streets of India, a pack of dogs crowded around a sponge chewed ball. The moon's beam shone on the motley crew of flea infested dogs, like the light from a football stadiums arena. "It's our kick-off tonight growled Harry K9". "Yeah but we won last night snarled David Barkham". "Get on with it, snapped Karl Walkies".

Pelt! The ball hurled in the smog filled air. The sound of scratching nails, as the dogs scrambled towards the filthy ball. Heads and tails nodding and wagging as the four legged friends kicked, headed and nose nudged the football.

"Goal!" Shrieked Jarmain Debone as he booted the ball into the back of the rancid dustbin. The small brown dog celebrated as he twirled in the air. His victory was short lived, when he felt a razor sharp fang tear into the back of his neck. "Luis", shouted a voice from the dark shadows. Harry Redsetter appeared. "I've been watching you lot!" "How's about we form a team for the Woof Cup?".

Meanwhile in the bleak depths of Iceland, Arsene Wagner looked upon the luxurious coats of the beautiful hounds that glided across the ice, holding perfect formation whilst they're attractive eyes watched the glistening snowball, clinically strike the inside of an igloo. "Goal!" howled Christiano Roofaldo." That's what you call team work!" Woofed John Terrier. "Think we are ready to win the Woof cup!".

After weeks of intense training, the time had come to travel to the mighty ground of Liverpoodle stadium. The atmosphere was electric as every breed, cross breed gathered in the stands. Most of the dogs were scrapping and boasting who would win the game. Viking war chants could be heard throughout the arena. The motley tribe were barking "winners, winners not dog dinners". Hot dogs and corn dogs were served to the ravenous gangs.

The game kicked off (literally) fouling all over the pitch with every referees decision. Weeing up the corner flags to mark their territory. Red bones were handed out to a player on each side and they were sin binned to the kennels. An outstanding hind leg strike from Josh King Charles lobbed the keeper Jordan Pekingenese. As Dannie Wellbark chased a rogue squeaky toy , fights broke out and not just amongst the players. The fans sang hurtful abusive songs like you "dirty mongrels , who would want to be you?" "You aint a pedigree anymore!" Then like a thunder bolt out of nowhere, the opposition booted a screamer into the back of the net. One, one, all hell broke loose. The hounds of hell were unleashed. Amongst the chaos the little brown dog howled in the centre of the pitch. "Stop" he yelped." I just want to play the beautiful game without being tormented". "Every breed and creed, colour, shape and size should unite to respect each other". The raucous crowd stopped, so they all wagged tails and called it a draw. It doesn't matter where you're from, just be kind!