Weekly football conversation since 2009, with Graham Sibley, Jan Bilton and Terry Duffelen. Listen on Apple, Google, Spotify, Stitcher, TuneIn or your podcatcher of choice.

Pundit Loses His Mind

Reward offered for return of enfeebled synapses

Pundit: Marbles strewn over lino...?
Pundit: Marbles strewn over lino...?
Hey! Who's run off with Pundit's cardie...?
Hey! Who's run off with Pundit's cardie...?
Could Pundit's mind be found here?
Could Pundit's mind be found here?
Funny old thing, Football. For instance, Johnny Pundit's mind. Anyone seen it lately?
The alarm was raised by Mrs Pundit. Frequently given to using her husband's mind as a hairnet, she awoke Tuesday last to find her hair dishevelled, and Johnny Pundit's mind gone. A frantic search ensured. However, neither the back of the sofa, the bread bin or the pockets of Johnny's favourite cardigan were able to provide the answer.
Lemon curd
Police have been desperate for a description of the offending item. Some suggest Pundit's mind most closely resembles a bowl of lemon curd. Others insist it's a bit like a game of scrabble with all the words spelt wrong. But the most popular descriptions of the lost mind compare it to the kind of tartan blanket usually found on the back seat of Morris Travellers, with clich├ęs and platitudes stuck in it like boiled sweets.

Told of the news last night, Johnny's two great pals, Fothergill of the Light Programme and Henry Ham, Football Correspondent of the Poker Channel, declared themselves officially distraught. Fothergill reminisced about old times. Ham did too, although he also tried to promote a cheap paperback ghost-written for him by his paper boy about those old times, and attempted to sell the film rights.

Neither doctors, nor the Pundit family, or even experts like the lost property office at Paddington station are clear when Johnny Pundit's mind will return. Perhaps it never will. Meanwhile, the former striker and addled commentator of umpteen summers has been perched in his favourite armchair at The Mixed Metaphor, the watering hole for commentators in London's fashionable Soho, from which position he beams beatifically, twenty-four hours a day, manifestly without a care in the world.

If you've been affected by any of the issues raised in this column, please ring our indifferent helpline on 0800 6006000.
Johnny Pundit

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