As the Logica players left the field after Sunday's first defeat of the season, they were sick to a parrot. Many blamed defeat on the number of goal opportunities created yet spurned. Others wondered what would have happened had Manlio Trovato and Phil Hatton not mysteriously failed to appear. A vocal minority were heard to ask "So where's the nearest pub, then?" All were at a loss to explain this inexplicable defeat at the hands of lowly Sportobello.

"If Selected...", after many years developing an unhealthy outlook based entirely on cynicism, was a tad more suspicious than these innocent wide-eyed Pups. Some top-notch investigative journalism was called for, and we did not shirk at the prospect. After many minutes of hard and dangerous detective work that involved a life-threatening under-cover operation, we have discovered the despicable and sordid reason behind Logica's defeat.

A complex web of deceit, sleazy red herrings and a quagmire of bluff and counter-bluff were lain in our path. At every turn we encountered desperate lies and seedy subterfuge. Someone, somewhere was determined that we should not discover the truth. It was as if their career depended on it.

But our edict here at "If Selected..." demands that we give 110% in the quest for truth and righteousness, and so we ploughed a lone furrow in these offensive zones. And our pledge to honesty and dignity has got a result at the end of the day.

The story we have uncovered is not for the faint-hearted. It is a lurid tale, penned by one man's bitter thirst for revenge. It involves a Machiavellian subversion that did not care for the lives and careers ruthlessly mowed down in its unstoppable drive for destruction. Shockingly the hatcher of this vicious plot even created the myth of a false religion in his unremitting attempts to cover his slimey tracks, playing on the superstitious ignorance of your average Sunday League footballer. And of course, we would probably have not even bothered printing this exclusive if there had not been the vaguest hint of debauched sex involving some top pop babes.

We do not like to beat around the bush, so on with the revelations. The unbelievable steps that one man took to sabotage Logica's quest for Championship glory are detailed below, and the evidence is provided for you to read with your own eyes.

It all began last Thursday when the Logica team to face Sportobello was released to the press. There was one notable absentee, and "If Selected..." broke the news to a shocked nation that evening. As the axed legend in question staggered in later that evening after a debauched evening of beer and Spicey kebabs, the peril of his situation became clear. An alcohol inspired fury had him firing off a letter dripping with vitriol and recriminations to club bosses.

The cold light of the following day inspired a more chilling plot. A second epistle was despatched to the entire Logica playing staff. Amongst rambling threats and references to a cunningly created mythical religion christened 'The Football Gods', our legendary left-over laid out his subtle plan. At the very end of the note he spat forth the hope that "you lose five players coz they were so stupid as to not put their clocks back when summertime finishes."

Manlio Trovato, a trusty and diligent libero of many years loyal service, was to be the innocent bystander caught in the blast from this callous mail-bomb attack. As always, he checked the club web-site on the evening before the match to digest the match preview and get his attention focused on the game. Not realising the cynical intent of Sidaway's primed missive, Trovato was merely grateful that he had realised in time, and altered his alarm clock accordingly.

The carnage the next morning was horrific. Trovato stood dazed and confused outside a West London tube station. His colleagues were gripped with concern for his whereabouts. Logica were distracted and had had the heart of their defence ripped asunder. They somehow contrived to lose to struggling opposition, and the inevitable march to toward medaldom had been stopped in its tracks. And all because a ruthless legend was prepared to go to any lengths to play a few more games in the twilight of his latest career.

The aftermath was not pretty. The plot-hatcher revelled in the success of his fraud. The innocent victim rambled semi-consciously about the incomprehensibility and the shock of his experience. Showing no repentance, the evil mastermind even boasted that he had been enjoying the herbal remedies of a certain Spicey foursome at the very time his wicked scheme was changing the course of history. All in all, not a pretty picture, and this atheistic bible for one hopes that justice will be done.