‘Ah — found you, my boy,’ Bill said as he entered the programme office.
‘Oh hello, sir,’ Derek said. ‘I came back to the office after I—’
‘I need to apologise, my boy,’ Bill interrupted. ‘I think I got carried away with the whole idea of the club re-branding itself.’
Derek was calmer now. He said: ‘Good, sir. I’m glad you’ve seen sense, sir. If the club re-named itself after farm land, we’d probably end up sponsored by the Happy Egg Company again, sir, and nobody wants that, sir… But why have you changed your tune, sir?
‘Because I now suspect the re-branding hasn’t actually happened down on earth,’ Bill replied. ‘The change of name on old programmes suggests that something strange has happened in Hornet Heaven. I think there may be some kind of glitch.’
‘I think so too, sir,’ Derek agreed. ‘And it isn’t only on the programmes that the name has changed, sir.’
‘Really? Where else?’
‘I just went back through the ancient turnstiles to the final game of last season, sir — the draw at home to Sheffield Wednesday, sir. And the name on the roof of the Sir Elton John Stand said “Colney Butts Football Club”, sir. And that’s not all, sir. In the Lower Graham Taylor Stand, the new name had been picked out in yellow in the red seating.’
‘They’d put “Butts” on seats?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Well, that’s quite ironic — given the team completely failed to do that last season.’
Derek continued: ‘And during the match, sir, there was a man who kept shouting “Get into ‘em, lads! Up the Butts!”’
‘Oh dear.’
‘And during the after-match lap of honour, sir, everyone in the stands was chanting “We love Butts! We love Butts!”, sir.’
‘Golly.’
Derek stared down at his desk and said quietly: ‘Overall, sir, I must say I’m finding the whole situation quite unsettling, Mr Mainwood, sir.’
Bill was feeling the same. ‘Yes. Me too, my boy. The very idea of the name change has made me question what it is about Watford Football Club that I actually support. Over time, we’ve changed our name and our home ground and our colours. And, of course, the owners change and the staff are always coming and going. It makes me wonder: what is the consistent thing to which we attach ourselves so strongly? I’ve always thought it was that we were the town’s club — but if the name changed to a specific area of the town, I’m not sure I—’
Bill stopped when he heard the door of the office open. He saw Johnny Allgood, Watford’s first-ever manager, enter.
‘Ach, there you both are,’ Johnny said. ‘I need to report a problem.’
Bill said: ‘Hello, Johnny. We know something strange is going on, but what have you seen?’
‘Well, it’s mighty peculiar. I just went to watch the game against Grays United at the end of the 1900/1901 season — the game that decided whether we’d stay in the Southern League Division One or be relegated to Division Two. As you know, it wasn’t called a play-off in those days, it was called a Test Match… And… Well, what I saw was… It wasn’t football… It was cricket.’
Someone else appeared through the door. It was Good Old Charlie White, Watford’s record-setting inside-forward who died in 1925. He looked perturbed.
‘I’m so awfully glad to have found you,’ Charlie said to Bill. ‘There’s been… Well… I just went to an old game — in our first-ever league season — 1896 — and… how can I put it?… Things weren’t right… One of our forwards was amiss.’
‘Which one, Charlie?’ Bill asked.
‘It was, um, quite frightful, really,’ Charlie said. ‘Tracey Clarke was amiss.’
Derek piped up: ‘Tracey Clarke played 13 times for Watford and scored four goals, Mr Good Old Charlie White, sir.’
‘Yes, thank you, young man,’ Bill said. ‘We all know who Tracey Clarke was.’ Bill asked Charlie: ‘But how do you mean he was “amiss”?’
‘Not “he”, Bill,’ Charlie said. ‘“She.”’
‘What?’
‘I just told you — Tracey Clarke was a “miss”. A young woman.’
‘A woman?’
‘Yes. Playing football in a long Victorian dress and wearing lipstick.’
‘Goodness,’ Bill said. ‘Not a word of this to Henry Grover. Otherwise he’ll—’
‘Crikey, sir,’ Derek interrupted. ‘Tracey Clarke was definitely male in the real world at the time, sir.’
Bill thought for a moment. Then he said: ‘Right… Thank you, Charlie… Thank you, Johnny… Now then, Derek, my boy — I think we’ve heard enough now to be sure that the club’s apparent re-branding to Colney Butts is part of a bigger problem. I strongly suspect there’s some kind of bug in Hornet Heaven’s operating system. It’s time to go and see Roy From IT — and to get him to fix it.’
‘Definitely, sir,’ Derek said. ‘Let’s go, sir. Butts need kicking, sir.’
HORNET HEAVEN 