HORNET HEAVEN

A short Hornet Heaven story by Olly Wicken

Craig closes his eyes — and everything turns a dazzling white.

Then, after a while, the whiteness becomes a milky mist.

Soon, the mist clears to a dreary half-light and Craig recognises where he is. He’s on Yellow Brick Road — or Occupation Road, as he’ll always think of it. He’s in the Watford Football Club afterlife.

He sighs and says: ‘Oh God, this means I’m stuck with them for the rest of eternity.’

He makes his way up the slope into eternal sunshine. Then, just as he’s approaching the Troy Deeney Atrium, on the junction with Vicarage Road, he’s surprised to hear music in the distance. 

It’s Mexican folk music.

It’s November 2nd, 2025 — the day after Watford (managed by a previously sacked Watford manager — Javi Gracia) have played Middlesbrough (managed by a previously sacked Watford manager — Rob Edwards).

Craig is now in the Troy Deeney Atrium, having his orientation session with Bill Mainwood — Hornet Heaven’s Head of Programmes.

Craig says: ‘To be honest, Bill, I’ve kind of stopped caring how the team gets on. Everything at Watford is dictated by Gino Pozzo. He doesn’t respect how things have been done in the past, and he never listens to how fans would like things to be done.’

‘Yes,’ Bill agrees. ‘A lot of fans are feeling disconnected at the moment.’

Craig says: ‘I feel manipulated, Bill. Pozzo sacks Pezzolano, because that’s what Pozzo does, and then he creates a feel-good narrative about bringing back Javi Garcia — a man he’s already sacked in the past because that’s what Pozzo does.’

‘How long have you been a fan?’

‘Since I was a kid in the 1970s. A friend brought me along to a game. Finn, his name was. I lost touch with him when we left school, but I still feel a bond with anyone who watched Watford in the Graham Taylor years. I can’t really say the same about the Pozzo years. The club doesn’t feel ours anymore.’

‘Well, you’re definitely not alone in feeling that way, Craig. In fact, you’ve arrived in Hornet Heaven on a day when, up here, we’re doing something to make ourselves feel better about the club. Did you hear music on your way into the atrium?’

‘Yes, I did, but— ’

‘Let me show you what it’s all about. Come and see how we’re dealing with our feelings.’

Bill and Craig leave the atrium and walk along Vicarage Road back towards the town centre. The Mexican mariachi music gets louder.

Soon they arrive at the gates of Vicarage Road cemetery. They go in.

Craig is amazed at how the place looks. There are brightly coloured flowers everywhere, and tea-light candles, and lots of little sugar-candy skulls — exquisitely and intricately decorated. It reminds him of some kind of Halloween event — but it’s much more beautiful; much classier. And the music is something else entirely. It’s lively and heartfelt — a combination of guitars, violins, and trumpets.

Bill explains: ‘We’ve got a Mexican Watford fan in Hornet Heaven called Chico. He started supporting the club when we signed Miguel Layun. Chico told us about a festival they celebrate on November the 2nd in Mexico. It’s called “Dia de Muertos” — the “Day Of The Dead”. We thought we’d celebrate it too.’

If you’d asked Craig in advance what he thought about Mexican traditions, he could only have told you about the Mexican Wave — and he would have informed you that it has no place in football. But what he’s looking at is wonderful. The cemetery is packed with people enjoying themselves — eating and drinking and dancing. Everyone has huge smiles on their faces.

Bill leads Craig through the cemetery. Bill says: ‘Many of the graves in this cemetery belong to people who have helped make Watford Football Club what it is today. Henry Grover’s grave is here — he founded the club in 1881. And Johnny Allgood’s grave is here too — he was our first-ever manager. And hundreds of ordinary fans are buried here too. We’ve decorated their graves with marigolds — the traditional flower of the “Day Of The Dead” — but always in Watford colours.’

Craig sees that the marigolds are all yellow and red. As are the candles. And there are photos of the deceased in beautifully decorated yellow and red frames.

Bill continues: ‘I liked the idea of the festival because, while Gino Pozzo is dictating things down on earth, it felt like a way we could put Watford people at the front and centre of the way we feel about the club — reclaiming it, if you like. What we’re doing is celebrating everyone who’s contributed positively to Watford Football Club across history in any way at all.’

‘Right… I see,’ Craig says. ‘But… Sorry, Bill… This is all great, but… If you’re celebrating the dead, that means you’re celebrating yourselves… Isn’t that a bit weird?’

‘Well, to be fair, no one bothers celebrating us down on earth. Some of our new arrivals get their faces on the giant screen in the stadium for a second or two, and a former player might get a minute’s silence, but there’s no annual event recognising us all. Maybe it’s a little self-indulgent to celebrate our own contributions, but the idea is to help us feel that the club still belongs to us — not to Gino Pozzo.’

Craig gets this. And he admires the effort and enthusiasm that’s clearly gone into the event — and the way everyone’s entering the spirit of it. But he’d prefer to sit it out. He’s too disillusioned with the club. And he can’t help feeling it’s a bit depressing that Gino Pozzo’s ownership has got generations of fans needing to reach for a Mexican tradition to try and feel good about Watford.

Suddenly he hears a voice behind him: ‘Craig, mate! Is that you?’

Craig turns and sees Finn — his old schoolmate.

Finn says: ‘You’re in Hornet Heaven too! Brilliant to see you, mate!’

Bill slips away to allow Craig and Finn to catch up on old times. 

Finn says enthusiastically: ‘I was thinking about you earlier today, mate. I was remembering that time we went with the Travel Club on a football special up north — Stoke or somewhere — late seventies — we were still at school — and on the way back the train got bricked. All the windows were smashed in. And the guy who ran the Travel Club — Roger Fleming — was walking up and down the carriages with a white motorcycle helmet on — for protection. It was mad!’

Craig recalls the trip very clearly. He was terrified.

He asks uncertainly: ‘So why were you remembering that today?’

‘Because I’ve really got into this “Day Of The Dead” thing, mate. It’s traditional to tell anecdotes about dead people, apparently, so I was telling a Roger Fleming story. He’s up here, you see. He had a good laugh about it — we all did.’

‘Right,’ Craig says uncertainly again.

‘And there’s a few anecdotes I could tell about you, mate, now you’ve kicked the bucket too. It’s brilliant to see you, mate. We had some great times following Watford.’

Craig nods. They did have great times. But it was years ago. Long before Gino Pozzo screwed things up. 

Also, did Finn really have to use the phrase ‘kick the bucket’?

Finn carries on: ‘You used to have a moped, didn’t you, mate, and we wanted to go to an away game on it, but I had a Saturday morning detention at school. The moment it was over, I ran out the school gates, and you had the engine running, like a getaway driver, and I jumped on the back, and we were laughing like you’d sprung me from jail, and we zoomed off to Oxford or somewhere!’

Craig remembers this too — though they didn’t exactly zoom. Mopeds were only allowed to go at thirty miles per hour, so it took an age to get to Oxford via the back roads. Still, some of it makes for a good story, he supposes. It’s a bit like the club under Gino Pozzo — selecting certain parts of a story to create a narrative that people want to hear.

‘Mate,’ Finn says, suddenly sounding concerned, ‘are you alright?’

Craig says: ‘Me?… Yeah… Well… I mean, I’ve just died, I suppose… But…’

Finally, he settles on a thought: ‘Maybe I’d forgotten the fun we used to have.’

‘Mate, it was so much fun,’ Finn says, enthusiastic again. ‘We never cared about the result — only whether we’d made each other laugh. It was all about enjoying ourselves at games.’

‘True. But things have changed. After we missed our chance to win the FA Cup and get into Europe again, Gino Pozzo—’

‘Pozzo’s got nothing to do with it, mate. We’re still allowed to have fun, you know.’

‘Sure, but—’

‘Football is about the fans, not the owners. That’s the whole point of this “Day Of The Dead” malarkey. Everyone you’re going to meet in Hornet Heaven helped make the club what it is today — and what it will be when Gino Pozzo has gone. We are the club.’

‘Yeah, I get it, but—’

‘And we can make supporting Watford fun if we want… Come on, mate… Take your serious head off, and I’ll show you around a bit more…’

Finn takes Craig around the cemetery, stopping to chat and joke with people — like at a party. 

Craig meets Andy Rankin and Alan Garner who were both regulars in the Watford defence in the days Craig rode a moped. Andy and Alan tell anecdotes about each other — taking the mickey — and Craig can’t help smiling.

Then Craig meets Johnny Allgood who offers him some sugar-topped “pan de muertos” (or “Bread Of The Dead”) and spins some yarns about some of the players he managed — like Billy Lindsay who was spotted at the races at Kempton Park on a Saturday afternoon in 1905 when he was meant to be playing for Watford. Johnny’s a serious man, Craig can tell, but he knows how to tell a funny story. Even Billy Lindsay himself is laughing.

Then it’s time for the centrepiece of the festival — which takes place around Henry Grover’s grave. Craig and Finn sit down on the grass and Bill Mainwood joins them again. 

Bill says to Craig:

‘I’m hoping this will be rather fun. One of the traditions of the “Day Of The Dead”, according to our Mexican friend Chico, is “calaveras literarias”. It translates as “literary skulls”, and they’re short poems about death.’

This strikes Craig as odd. ‘But won’t that drag the mood down?’

‘No, not at all. They’re amusing little verses that people make up about a friend, loved one or prominent figure. The idea is to capture their personality and character, while bringing a little bit of levity — to help ease their loss. And, for a bit of extra fun, we’ve asked people to make up poems about themselves — to avoid anyone taking offence.’

Craig watches as Henry Grover kicks off proceedings. 

The Father of The Club stands up and recites the short verse he’s composed about himself:

‘Now I’m dead, there’s one regret / That’s always in my thoughts: / While playing for Watford Rovers / I never wore red shorts.’

Craig doesn’t get this. But other people are smiling and laughing. 

Bill whispers: ‘Henry’s judged that nicely. I was half-expecting something about his fixation with Roberto Pereyra’s thighs.’

Next to stand up is Duncan “Chopper” Welbourne — a club legend from Craig’s earliest days on the terraces. 

Chopper says: ‘Chopper Welbourne got away / With tacklin’ far too ‘ard. / Then t’Grim Reaper came along / And showed him life’s red card.’

Craig smiles at this. Others laugh. 

And then Craig sees who’s standing up next.

He feels awestruck. It’s a man he’s always revered. It’s the man responsible for the best years of Craig’s life as a football fan. It’s The Great Man.

GT says: ‘Graham Taylor loved to talk / He’d chat and chat and chat. / So when death silenced him, he said: / “Do I not like that!’

This brings the house down. Everyone around Craig is laughing and clapping.

And Craig can’t help joining in. 

Any thought of Gino Pozzo is far from his mind.

The next day, Craig is at the programme shelves in the Troy Deeney Atrium. He and Finn are choosing an old match to go and watch.

Finn says: ‘Well, you’ve definitely perked up since yesterday, mate. Did you enjoy the Day Of The Dead?’

Craig nods. He loved it. He loved realising that what Watford people have built over the last 144 years is bigger than Gino Pozzo — and that, in Hornet Heaven, it’s something that will last forever. He loved the friendliness and humour of everyone he met. 

He says: ‘Without you, Finn, I would have skulked around like a killjoy. Thanks for getting me into the swing of it.’

Finn says: ‘You were definitely into it by the end, mate. It was so good to see.’

Craig clears his throat gently and says: ‘Craig’s been over-critical / since Watford’s path got bumpy. / Now he’s dead he’ll have some fun / Instead of being grumpy.’

Finn laughs and claps a hand around Craig’s shoulder. 

He says: ‘Well, that shows me you’re going to love it here. The truth is, mate, in Hornet Heaven, every day is the ‘Day Of The Dead’.

THE END 

‘Day Of The Dead’ was written by Olly Wicken.

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