The Great Ritual of Conkers

On this Morning After the Transfer Deadline I'm pleased to report that only two Beaker People have become Arsenal players overnight. I tell you, if Arsene Wenger wants to make friends he shouldn't phone people up at 5 minutes to 11 asking what you're like at protecting the back four.

And so today we are celebrating September with the Great Ritual of Conkers. The Celts, contrary to their modern image as wistful bodhran-playing mystics, first played conkers in the 2nd century BC. And in in keeping with their pagan beliefs they used the heads of their enemies on lengths of rope. It took the invention of the horse chestnut tree before conkers became a suitable game for young gentlemen and ladies, suitably protected with face visors, fireproof gloves and shin pads, to play.

We will be holding our usual pre-competition inspection to root out all the cheating conkers - those that are years old, those pickled in vinegar, those varnished and those that have been buried in a silicaceous sub-stratum for four million years to fossilise. By tonight only one conker will be left standing.

And in keeping with tradition, it will not receive the title William. Because that's too obvious. Instead, standing in the Moot House and surrounded by its fallen colleagues, we will ask the conker what it thinks violence ever achieves.

And then sing "Where have all the conkers gone?"