Duck Soup by Grist

I was about to switch over to something more exciting when I spotted him. He's always there, sometimes under different disguises, but there he was in full glory, the man dressed as a duck. Why is it that we admire these people? What is it that the British like about a loony running 26 miles dressed as a refugee from Bernard Matthews Health Farm?

We get the usual response from the experts "there he is, ha ha, good old Sid Bonkers, brave as ever, ha ha, trying his hardest, ha ha ha, etc etc etc.
We laugh along with the "joke" because we admire the amateur that works hard, runs all day (literally) but basically isn't up to it. We know that Sid in the duck suit isn't going to win a thing.

As for our beloved Millers that's where we are now. We're in our marathon called the Championship and we have a team full of guys dressed as ducks. There's the lesser spotted Warne Duck, yes runs for ever, ha ha, a real tryer, ha ha etc etc.

There's the plump and succulent Garner Duck, so big and juicy that it looks like the Paxo rep has already caught him and there's the Barker Duck, a huge vulture like creature that flies in big slow circles so he never gets anywhere.

Also what great delight we all have knowing that if it all goes wrong, that we have the daddy of them all to come on the grass to help them, the antique Scotty Duck Not often seen due to an injured wing, but fear not he's a versatile bird, he can be awful in a number of different positions.

So there we are admiring these guys, half duck half footballer (allegedly), admiring them because they try hard, or run forever, or are friends of Ronnie Moore.

We have to stuff these ducks and quickly, stick them in the pot. With the new home shirts they can be dish of the day, "duck a l'orange". Do something with them but stop them nesting at Millmoor.

If we don't we will be well and truly ducked.