Little Stan The Referee
My grandad started watching rugby league after returning to St Helens from war-torn France,
and was heard to remark, ‘They breed ’em tough in Lancashire.’

He’d watched in awe as Albert Briggins, a towering prop forward, cowered before little referee,
Stanley Smiggins who, as a spy in the Great War, had led the Hun on a merry dance,
and was now calmly reprimanding the huge Wigan player.

Stan’s mates – who’d known him since school,
and had often ribbed the little chap about his ambition to play rugby,
saying, ‘Tha’s too small, you little wimp, go down the mines
like us and dig coal!’ – now marvelled at his nerve.

After all, he was only a little lad.

So when trouble brewed during that game,
the little ref calmly wagged his finger at Albert,
even though he could have easily have shut him up.

For like all secret agents, Stan was a karate expert.

Then, after they’d all trooped off, Mrs Lovebody, a staunch Wigan supporter,
incensed that Stan had sent Bert into the sheds for an early bath,
hit him on the bonce with her umbrella.

My granddad Joe was there that day with his sons, John, Bill and Gerry,
and told the tale over a pint at the Smiggins Arms, named in honour of Stan,
the ex-secret agent and rugby league referee.

Due to the exigency of the Official Secrets Act, our heroic ref never talked about his espionage bactivities in that terrible conflict.

Though in the corridors of power he was known as the greatest of spies,
he would escape to the loo when asked what he’d done in the war.

For unlike some so-called tough guys, he was possessed of considerable tact,
but rather lamented he’d never represented his home town in the greatest game of all.

But his bravery shone through as the little chap who kept order with just his whistle,
among the big men who kick and pass the oval ball.