Somewhere on the Holte End a young Golden Goal ticket seller approaches some potential customers... "Get your golden tickets!" he shouts.

"Have you got any National Lottery scratch cards?" asks a member of a small group.

"No sorry, I've only got these official golden goal tickets," replies the seller.

"You want to get yourself some proper scratch cards," shouts another member of the group.

"It's not my fault. It's just a job, I don't want to work for Ellis but I need the money!" cries the seller.

"All right, calm down, I'll have one." "Me too." reply two members of the group.

The seller hands over the tickets and receives his payment. Just as he is about to turn away he stops and asks, "Are you the Witton Wag?" "F*ck Off!" shouts back a rather irate member of the group.

"What!!" cries the seller as he reels back under the harshness of the response. "We're the H&V (official), the Witton Wag... huh, they're a bunch of splitters." The group nod their heads in agreement.

"And the H&V" says another member. "What?" says the group's leader. "The H&V. Splitters!"

"We're the H&V, you idiot."

"Oh, I thought we were the Holy Trinity."

"God Almighty. HOW MANY MORE TIMES? We're the H&V!"

"Whatever happened to the Holy Trinity?" asks a female member of the group. "He's over there." The leader points to a lone figure sitting amongst a sea of empty seats in the North Stand. "SPLITTER!!!!" they cry in unison.

"Can I join your group?" asks the seller. "No, piss off." replies the leader. "Oh go on, please. I hate Ellis as much as the next man" responds the seller.

"If you want to join the H&V you have to really hate Ellis," said the man sitting next to the leader.

"I do!" came the reply, "Oh yeah? How much?"

"A lot."

"All right, you're in. What's your name?"

"Brian." replied the seller. "Right then Brian, I've got a little job for you."

Shortly Before Kick Off. Brian moved through the shadows of the stairwell in the Doug Ellis Stand. He pulled out a black marker pen from his jacket pocket and quickly began to write on the wall... ELLIS'S AYENT DOMON...

But just as he was finishing, a pair of tangomen walked around the corner,

"What's all this then", one of them shouts, "Ellis's ayent domon? What the hell does that mean?"

Brian, looking a bit nervous, replied "It says Ellis go home!"

"No it doesn't." says first tangoman. "How many Ellis's do you want rid of?"

Brian, looking very pale at this point, mutters a response "Er...One."

"So it's Ellis not Ellis's, and domon? That's motion towards isn't it boy, so it's domun, not domon." The tangoman takes Brian's pen and corrects the slogan, "Now write it out 100 times, and if you're not finished by kick-off I'll chuck you out, okay?"

Brian agreed and began scribbling his corrected slogan all over the stairwell walls.

14.59 hours.

Brian called to the tangomen "Finished." The walls were covered in the 'Ellis go home' slogan.

"Right then," said the tangoman, "Don't do it again." They marched away, leaving Brian admiring his work. As he stepped into the light two more tangomen arrived, looking nothing like the first two.

"GET HIM." they cried, "SHIIIIIIT....." thought Brian and legged it up the stairs. A chase ensued through the executive boxes until Brian was cornered and captured.

15.15 hours.

High in the back of the North Stand offices, the ruler of Aston stood in his office. The tangomen had just brought Brian before him.

"So what is your name, Holte Ender?" Ellis asked. Brian thought quickly.

"I'm not a Holte Ender, I'm an Executive Box ticket holder." Ellis was looking dubious "An Executive Box, eh? So whose box is it, pray tell?" asked Ellis, nostrils flaring like a pair of 1970's jeans.

"The owner's name is Ritchus Bastardius." The answer led to ripples of laughter from the tangomen.

Ellis was put out by this, "Do we have a box in that name?" he asked the head tangoman. "No, sire."

"You seem very sure. Have you checked?" challenged Ellis.

"But it's a joke name, sire."

"I don't see what's so funny about it. I have some good friends called Ritchus Bastardius." This produced more laughter from the massed tangomen.

"SILENCE," bellowed Ellis. "I will not have my wealthy friends ridiculed by commoners."

Ellis turned to face Brian. "I have to make an example out of you, young man, or before you know it there will be an Ellis Out movement, and I can't have that, can I?"

The tangomen exchanged knowing glances. Ellis turned to their commander, "Take him out and tie him to the gates of the Trinity Road Stand, as an example." With that the tangomen dragged out the screaming Brian from his office as Ellis turned his attention back to his favourite pastime. He began to count "£8 million and one, £8 million and two...."

16.55 hours.

Brian is hanging from the gates .

"How did I get myself into this mess?" he cried.

"Hey, it's not too bad once you're up."

Brian turned his head to where another victim was hanging. "What's your name then?" asked the man,

"Brian." replied Brian. "My names Ron, Ron Saunders. I'm here because I made Ellis look a twat while he wasn't chairman."

Just then the guys and gals from the H&V turned up. "Am I glad to see you!" cried Brian with relief.

The leader stepped forward, "Brian, I have tell you that we are not the rescue committee. We are in fact passing on our way to the pub where we will, in recognition of your sacrifice, drink to your memory." And with that, they trooped off.