BB: Welcome one and all to Franklins Gardens on this first Sunday in Lent.

PN: Saturday, B.B., though it feels more like Monday morning – and Lent, yeah, I reckon Tigers have given up rugby for November – they really have no idea.

BB: Oh yes - and the brand spanking, shiny new Crumbly stand glistens in the November sunshine; such a potent, phallic symbol of Tigers' absolute dominance of the known World with it's increased capacity now greater than Bath, Wasps and the Roman Colosseum put together.

PN: Well, they've still got to pay for the Cat stand and unless they start throwing the ball about and entertaining the crowd I can see it being empty a lot of the time .. er, they've kicked off B.B. - oh, and knocked-on of course.

BB: Although with those clouds forming over the infirmary I can't really see the Sun blessing us with it's presence for much longer, but conditions are perfect for running rugby with a dry pitch and a crispy, autumnal bite in the air.

PN: Tigers are continually taking the ball to ground and going from side to side, if they keep playing like this I can see it being us who are bottom of the table by tonight; oh, and they've knocked on again – I know it's muddy and wet out there which can make handling difficult but it's hard to tell which team is relegation fodder here.

BB: According to Peter Claytom the carpets in the new stand cost more than the whole Wasps team.

PN: Well, Tigers have scored a penalty but I don't know how, they've hardly been in the Leeds half except for most of the time.

BB: Right, well, I would tell you who is playing for Saracens today but I seem to have mislaid the team sheets – what? - yes, that's what I thought I said, well, never mind, I'll have to tell you in a moment who is playing for Leeds, though I know Tom Varndell is relishing the prospect of playing against his old club.

PN: I might have known it, true to form Tigers have given away two penalties in quick succession, one for not playing pretty rugby, the other for being completely unadventurous, and are 6 - 3 down. It's only a matter of time before we are utterly blethered, no offence B.B..

BB: None taken, Peeved. Well, Tigers have kicked off and are playing with the Alliance and Leicester stand to their backs; it's looking a little shoddy now, compared to the colossus that is the Capilliary stand, standing erect and proud against the skyline with it's capacity so much greater than the rest of the Premiership clubs put together; and apparently they can now serve a mile of ale in less than four minutes in there - that'll make young Roger Bannister as envious as the rest of Europe, nay, the World.

PN: Well, I don't know what the referee saw there, he has a difficult job but has to be an utter imbecile, and, no, I don't believe it, how could he – he's gone and given Tigers another penalty? Amazing! Well, whatever he saw we've got the kick and a child could get from there, but our fly-half [the BBC have said I shouldn't name him for fear of upsetting the good people of Cockermouth] is struggling to find his form since coming back from injury, and has kicked it so poorly it's nailed-on to miss, though the wind has somehow, as the crowd will tell you, blown it off course and between the posts. Tigers undeservedly go level. It's ten minute more excruciating minutes to half time where I hope the coaches will ask me, no, will tell the players how quick ball and crisp execution is essential if they wish to see anything close to a score in the second half, otherwise we're just going to keep going backwards, albeit in their 22.

BB: Now, we seem to be getting quite muddy out there, that torrential downpour we had for most of the morning must have dampened the playing surface a little, though I thought it looked pretty firm before kick-off – I can see the directors demanding a change of jerseys at half time, the players are simply not smart enough so caked in grime, it does not give a good impression to those discerning supporters, and Yorkie, in the new Caterwaul stand, with it's striking new signage and enormous capacity, not to mention size.

PN: Joe Ford is having a fabulous game for Leeds, showing our boys how it should be done – perhaps we've got the wrong Ford at Tigers?

BB: Isn't he Ben Youngs' older brother? I went to school with both of them you know.PN: Well, thank goodness for the relief of the half time whistle.

BB: My, that Catweasle Stand is fab'lous, I can't understand why they don't make the players leave the pitch towards it - all eyes would be drawn towards it's imperious immensity such much more often, and it's not far to walk round the back to the changing rooms. Right, I'm off to empty the old Bletherin' Bladder, in the new Caterpeeler facities of course, no queues there you know; apparently they can move 24,000 pints of used bitter through the new drainage system out into the hospital car park in less time than it takes Shaun Edwards to call off a game.

PN: B.B., I'm not sure you have the time to go all the way over ... oh, he's gone. In summary then, another turgid display from Leicester who are lucky to go in at half time with parity; regretably I'm expecting more of the same drabness to come, but back to the studio pro temps for I know you're all eager to know how Anstey Nomads are doing – it's got to be more entertaining than what's on show here, it's so depressing. ...........................................................................................  

PN: Where's B.B? I told him he didn't have time. Stuck in the queue for the gents, I expect. Why will no-one ever listen to me? Welcome back listener ... s, and for those of you arriving late much as the Tigers' backs, or indeed Bletherin', this quite impressive Leeds outfit are making Leicester look pretty poor with a half time score of 6 each, and that with a late change of fly half, Joe Ford making his ... oh no, I mean yes! The referee has awarded Tigers a penalty try! I didn't see what for so I don't see how the referee possibly could have either, but Tigers' scrum was manfully held on the Leeds' try line until he interfered. It's 11 – 6 then, with the conversion to come. Much as it pains me to say this, I can't see Tigers scoring another point except through the forwards.

PN: From BenK playing scrum half on half way to someone who is probably a forward that I can't make out, to Jordan Crane who passes the ball for the first time in his career – this clearly baffled the Leeds defence who were not expecting that – and it goes to some jammy back who nearly knocks-on but manages somehow to stumble over the line and score. So I was right, another forwards' score, and I despair of Leicester's backs ever stringing together more than two passes! Jugs, of course, makes a mess of the conversion attempt. 18 to 6. Ah, welcome back B.B..

BB: Sorry I'm late, I was talking to one of the directors about the new stand; I'm confident Peeved has kept you up to date. Well, we have a game on our hands now, it seems, though looking at the scoreboard it might not be the one I thought I was at; it says here that Anthony Allen and Pen-a-Lty, a small village in Wales, have scored tries, so we only need one more for the bonus point – no, make that three. Two. The backs seem to be stringing together some exciting passages of play.

PN: Except that Ben Youngs has just thrown the ball into touch with the line begging, and where does Matt Smith think he is?

BB: I'm not sure he knows, we have a lot in common. It could be he was admiring the new stand.

PN: What did I tell you, forward power again? Jordan Crane crashes off the back of the scrum yet again, predictably, but the ball gets to another forward in the form of Brett Deacon and he scores the third try under the posts.

BB: And Toby Flood puts the ball right between those posts to convert the score. 25 to 6.

PN: I think we'll bring on Tuilagi soon, it'll suit Tiger's bish-bosh approach, the game needs lifting somehow by Leicester.

BB: How are you able to predict these things, Peeved? Indeed, another of that well known Leicestershire family [snigger] line of Tuilagis takes to the pitch. I think I saw the Leeds players blanche, to a man. I must say, I don't think I'd want to face a fresh Alex this late in the game.PN: That's easy, B.B., I watched him take off his track suit and stand on the touchline next to the fourth official who was holding up an illuminated board with his and another player's number on  it.

BB: The wonders of modern technology, eh, whatever happened to, er, er ...

PN: Well, that's it for me. I simply cannot sit here and watch any more of this. The bish-bosh has worked again and this time it's Jugs who has scored off some bouldering running by the winger built like a forward. There's just no finesse in this side, much as it grieves me to say so.

BB: I thought I saw some fine back play there, with Alex's run sucking in the Leeds defence – just what was missing in the first half when there seemed to be no way through? Peeved? Peeved? .. Oh, he must have gone to the gents - hope he's not gone to the toilets in the new stand, the queues are awful and the urinals are backed-up something terible.

BB: Moody! No, I'm not talking about Peeved, but Lewis Moody who has just gone through to score our sixth try, snaffling the ball from Harlequins as they broke out, desperately trying for a consolation score. That looks like Jeremy Staunton putting over the conversion, he must have come on for Hipkiss who was carrying an injury he picked up playing for Ireland – I think he strained his passing muscle which is a weakness he has had to live with. That makes the score thirty something to Leicester Tigers and I know they've only got six, my view of the scoreboard is obscured by a grown man crying – can't be a Leicester supporter.  Right I'm off to the ABC bar to talk about the new stand, I can't see much else happening out there and I want to beat the rush. ............................................................................................ 

Disclaimer: It weren't me wot dunnit, guv'nor, 'onest! 

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