The young puggy looking lad started the day much like most other days. He broke a mirror in the bedroom and spent approximately ten minutes clearing up the glass. He then processed to have four shredded wheat in the hope this would give him super-strength. He then spent approximately two hours fixing his hair. This was a time consuming task, of much pleasure, acquiring an assortment of shampoo, conditioner, hairspray and gel. Once complete, a tracksuit is fitted on. Done and dusted. With at least 10 minutes to spare before being picked up by his best mate. Time to practice some skills outside until he arrives.

Using a ladder carefully placed by the side of the house the young lad dribbles the ball around it with sublime ease. It gets a little more tricky when his pet cat starts running across his path, with the lad having to dink the ball over the pesky fur-ball. The black feline always hisses in disagreement when the lad mis-times and kicks the ball into its slender elastic body.

Carpool time. The lads best mate is here. He always knows around 20 seconds before he pulls up outside in his car because his best mate loves to show-off a bit. He kicks the ball out of the sun-roof and it travels with pace, hitting the doorbell. Expert precision and casually effortless as you like.

Ding dong.

They hug and both agree today will be the day.

The old decrepit spinster opposite, peering from her window disagrees and holds tightly to the effigy in her hand. She curses to herself as she begins to look around for a needle.

When the two bestest friends arrive, the lad gets ready for what will be ninety career-defining minutes. But his best mate is glum. There is no place for him other than cheering on from the sidelines. He consoles himself by recreating a  happier moment, star-jumping at the entrance. Except its not quite the same without a camera zooming in on him. He wipes a single tear from his eye and kicks an empty can, hands in pockets, sighing.

90 minutes later. With a 3-2 score, it's all smiles for the puggy looking kid.

"We won", he spurts out gleefully.
"Great", says his subdued best mate.
"We won and I played the full ninety minutes"
"That's great mate. Look, can we drive about a bit. I heard there was some work being done on a house about a mile from here. Reckon they'll have a skip outside and I want to try this trick where I…"
"I played ninety minutes and I tasted victory"
"It was a friendly behind closed doors against Championship opposition. I doesn't count"
"I won"
"Gio even got a start"
"I won"
"It was QPR at the Lodge with a bunch of kids playing"
"I won"

The puggy kid was happy. If rainbows had endings, you'd find his smile there, positively beaming.

"The jinx. It's over. Life is good"

Elsewhere, the old decrepit spinster, arm stretched under the sofa, picks up a lost needle with her fingers.

"There you are my precious"