Following last season's report on the end of the Malal Daemons team 'Cacophony' we have had several enquiries over the fate of their erstwhile coach, Halfabrain.

Not, of course, from any team owners looking for a manager, no ones that stupid. But certain members of the public do have an appetite for this kind of thing; what we in the trade call a "feel good" story on the basis that reading about someone doing even worse than you are makes you feel good.

It's been reported that Halfabrain wept tears of joy when his ill-fated venture as head of Cacophony came to an end (he wasn't alone in doing that) and last we heard of him he was drunk and penniless and wandering through the border lands trying to find gainful employment and avoid getting beaten up.

Since then, he's been variously reported as being imprisoned for debt, pressed by the Imperial Navy and dead. We can finally reveal the truth. It is uglier than I could have imagined.

It seems that after a few months touting for a coaching job in the lower reaches of club level Bloodbowl he was forced to flee the provinces when he finally ran out of favours to call on. Pursued by his creditors, he struck off alone across the Worlds-Edge Mountains on his way to distant Cathay and Nippon where he'd been assured there were both ample coaching opportunities and also no-one who had already heard of him.

The Celestial Empire Bloodbowl Association will never know how lucky they are that he never made it there. In fact quite predictably he fell at the very first hurdle and was captured by one of the many anonymous tribes of Night Goblins who infest this area.

Having determined that he was worthless for ransom and quite useless as a slave they very sensibly decided to make the best of a bad lot and eat him instead. Old Half pulled out all the stops, first trying to bargain, then reasoning with them before finally begging for his life and screaming for mercy.

Sadly, Shaman Badgutz the titular petty tyrant of this band of destitutes was, due to long and heavy use of the Mad Cap mushroom that thrives in these parts, a perfect stranger to reason. Mercy was also an entirely alien concept and things looked bleak for our hero when, in broken Goblin speech and in a final last desperate throw of the dice, he babbled something about CIBBL, piles of gold, and enduring Glory.

Shaman Badgutz had had a strange dream that morning about a egg shaped mushroom being carried across a silverstream and chants of crowds buzzing in the background. This was an omen. A vision. His destiny. This stranger would show them the way.

Dinner was cancelled, or at the very least, postposed and Halfabrain was appointed head coach of a scratch Bloodbowl team that would compete in the very lowest rung of the CIBBL competition. Shaman Badgutz appointed himself as Team Owner and head dietician. The rest of the tribe would take part as players, staff or fans as the mood took them.

The Crookpass Cannibals were born.

Tune in next week as we make our way to the Worlds-Edge Mountains for a personal interview.