“No it’s not the programme, you stupid sod”…I’ve been meaning to get around to one of these for a while but the problem is always the truly daunting amount of material from each and every issue that could be included in a blog. Anyway, I finally decided to bite the bullet with issue 20 from May 1993.

The editorial a reminder that 4 years on from Hillsborough the police and clubs were still willfully ignoring what had happened. Horrific. The line “What can we do? Unfortunately, not a lot, other than protest in writing” is a reminder of what fanzines did and what they were for and almost makes you think that social media and the hype that would have been whipped up over an incident like this now are a good thing. Actually, just a camera phone and a decent national newspaper journalist would have done it but neither of those ever existed either.

An article called British Spike Broadcasting rounds up broadcasting news complaining of Sky manipulating the calendar, crap foreign players invading the game and players taking too much drink in Salford. Nothing changes.

Next we have news of a sensational medical breakthough with the Crappiteam-O-Stop patch. Somehow it will stop visits to Manchester United, Burney or Stoke and see you instead at Edgeley Park.

There is a FREE fanzine within the fanzine, a special “Pull out ‘n’ Bin” issue of “the Uruguayan Sheep S*****r”..as it was free I’ll include it all here. In ‘honour’ of their legendary manager it is a great mickey take of what some fanzines tried as their USP thought the team of funnily named players would have graced any fanzine.

The back cover is all ads but magnificent ones they are, jokes about erections, more tea pots than you have ever seen in your life and a chimpanzee selling insurance. Whitegates clearly didn’t get the memo.

I haven’t even started on the superb letters but this is supposed to be a mini blog so let’s finish with “Arthur Memories”. A dear departed fan on the Pop side of the ground is remembered. I’m sure this type of fan is still there up and down the grounds but now you are tethered to your seat in one small corner they are much more difficult to come by, in those days you could just amble along to the 6th railway sleeper back in line with the left hand goal post (remind me to tell you about the pie spitter I sat three rows in front of at elland road for one pitiful, pastry flaked year). Tales from the “good old days when to avoid re-election was a success”. Brilliant.