I am writing this at short notice dear friends due to an 11th hour call from that lay about larrikin Lindsley. The feckless fop claims to have a lot on his plate what with the 140 mile April challenge and his demanding family. Anyway as a true professional I am more than capable of filling his spineless void.

So Tigers then! This is the one true derby of the sporting calendar. Having read the preview from their sportnetwork page and noting their inability to recognize decent behaviour, I have decided to shy away from the cheap thrill that has been the shenanigans of recent matches. I am not condoning dear old Callum’s actions and wish young Mr. Hawkins a speedy recovery however did they need to mention it 18 times? If I was being petty I would of course drag up Manu’s shameful assault of the splendid Christopher Ashton, his brother’s silly hair that clearly wants a pull, Gordan Murphy’s sustained yet unnoticed haymakers and the fact he created the winning try at Welford road by taking out the UK’s most attractive man when he really shouldn’t have been on the pitch. No dear readers that would be churlish, childish and lots of other words ending in ish and frankly I won’t do it. ‘Stirring’ is how my old chum Bert refers to it so if you were expecting it here then ‘no sir not on my watch!’

This match has true history with Saints the victors a great many times. One set of supporters is always up for this, the others; you’d barely know were there. They have no songs and need industrial quantities of encouragement to burst into clap, clap, clap, Tigers. We on the other hand are bristling with ditties including two about Tigers where we question their honesty and wonder who in the name of Hades they actually are. There would be a third song but the great unwashed artisans are unable to work with: “I’d rather wear a halo than a novelty hat that doubles as cuddly tiger…”

The source of the difference between the two sets of fans is in fact cultural. It starts with the naming of their ground – Welford Road. As many will know the A5199, known locally as the humour bypass, starts in Kingsthorpe, the Thorpe of Kings, named such as the King had a hunting lodge there. The exact source is directly outside Waitrose at the Kingsthorpe Shopping Centre, a place that makes Fosse Park look like a Happy Shopper. In it’s infancy it passes architectural masterpieces such as Kingsthorpe Methodist Church and Gallones Ice Cream (a product far to superior to any you might purchase over the border.) Not long after that the road passes the RFU referees training facility at Wardington Court. In summary the road starts in Northampton, is named after a village in Northants and terminates at a roundabout in Leicester near of all things a Morrisons. Franklin’s Gardens on the other hand is not called ‘Weedon Road,’ is not on a roundabout and is named after the former pleasure garden and zoo, on which it is built. Mr. Franklin himself closed the zoo and built a rugby stadium after recognizing the entertainment and joy given by the Jimmies. There’s another point, Saints is not our nickname, it is the name of Northampton FC’s first team, the second team being the Wanderers, the sadly disbanded thirds the Crusaders and the fourths that I featured for, the Philanderers. Leicester have a made up tag based on being stripy and call their 2nd team ‘extras’ – oh when will the imagination start?

Here are some more facts for you. Saints supporters whilst fewer in number produce 176% more atmosphere than their Leicester counterparts. Our own St. Dom took part in a scientific study, which concluded that we are more passionate than them.

Pork pies from Sauls of Spratton were said by one expert to be: “Much better than eny o’that melton mowbray troipe.” Source Mr. B.Haddon

Walkers crisps may be made in Leicester but the favourite flavour at Welford Road is ready salted or ‘plain.’ More demanding consumers at Franklin’s Gardens, where our taste buds need to be tantalized, prefer the simply splendid Thai Sweet Chilli Sensations. Everard’s the brewer produced a beer and managed to call it Tiger, Great Oakley dedicated a beer to the Saints titled "Marching In". I do hope you are following the overwhelming evidence here.

Then of course there is the great green-eyed monster. Yes dear readers we all know that Tigers are jealous of us. It started way back when Harry Weston became the first Saint to play for England. In 1910 they refused to play us following a 0-0 draw at Welford Road, claiming we were a bit rough. When Northampton FC won the Anglo Welsh pennant in 1976 we became the first national champions. Then of course whilst the Tigers spent a decade as runners up to the shower that is Bath, Northampton steam roller-ed to a league title winning division 2 in 1990 (Saints having won that title 3 times, something the Tigers have never managed,) also beating the Tigers in the cup quarter final that season. When Northampton became the champions of Europe our nearest neighbours were incandescent with rage. The resulting clamour led to back to back European and domestic successes, indeed the Tigers became obsessed with winning, never taking time to smell the flowers and bask in glory like we did. Clearly, children in Leicestershire are not taught to share their toys.  Possibly the most heinous act of coveting thy neighbours ox comes with this years Eurovision entry, Englebert Humperdinck. Yes dear readers we all know of Northampton’s link to 1981 Eurovision winners, Buck’s Fizz and their sensational Euro pop anthem; "Making Your Mind Up". Leicester have looked on with envy ever since and have limply offered forth Jerry Dorsey, OMG as the young people say…no Des O’Connor is he?

Well, the game’s afoot and its mouth watering match-ups all round. At fullback we have the leagues best ever 15 or ‘O’ as they prefer in the punchy Mr Murphy versus the pretender to the crown, England’s fastest celebrity Dad and X Factor contestant Ben Foden. On the wings erm…possibly best to skate over this for factors mentioned above but frankly I predict our fez bound snake charmer will end his drought with a hat trick. At centre I hope that Downey and Pisi show lives up to former Tiger, Will Greenwood’s billing of ‘the best pairing in the Premiership.’ Up against them are players of immense talent who have everything but the ability to pass. Flood and Youngs versus Dickson and Myler/Lamb is likely to be key but I am becoming positively catatonic talking about the girls. To the fat lads: We clearly have the edge in the front row even without the talismanic Hartley, unfairly punished for defending himself from the Ferris fish hook. Their ABC club, helpfully called that because they can’t count, may have had the upper hand in the LV cup final but no plan survives contact with the enemy. Our engine room, hopefully Day and Sorenson are more than a match for any of the Tiger combos and in the back row we just need to get Thomas the Tank Engine Waldrom to run out of steam and it’s game set and match Saints. Possibly the real winning factor for Saints is this is a home match. Tigers are penalised at least 3 times more often away from Welford road and I’m sure C Block are primed and ready to help Sir and his monkeys out with the odd decision. The coaches have a big job and recently dear old Jim declared that being tall and bald were essential qualities in this department. Which begs the question, what was the diminutive Cockers doing at Oadby wigs?

Joking aside, and yes my lovely little tiglets there has been the odd pun, quip, jest and jocularity in this piece, I’m looking forward to a crackerjack game. The last three meetings whilst festooned with controversy have all gone Leicester’s way and there is a feeling that there is some sort of fiendish feline sign over the Saints right now. In a similar way to our recent problems with the chaps in funny hats, this has become something we really need to address. My dearest wish for this clash of the East Midlands titans is that the quality of play is the only talking point and if it is I believe the Saints will win. In all honesty what do you expect?

I have checked with dear old Bert and his response was typically succinct:

“wot yer torkin abayt montee, we’ll do ‘em good n’proper at the garduns”

You can’t argue with that…come on Jimmies get amongst them you beauties. Tally ho readers!