FEATURED post

I had already written an intro for this game, long since rage-deleted after the postponement. I have no recollection of what I wrote; maybe something about Steve Evans managing the ‘gas’tric bypass

I'm sat at the dinner table, St James's, late 1980s. My little group of friends is talking football, or rather, we're trying to outdo each other in one-downmanship, which we're finding absolutely hilarious in that way you only can when you've yet to reach double digits. I support Coventry, says Peter. I support Luton, says Kurt. I support Gillingham, say I. The laughter subsides. The conversation turns, probably, to Teenage Mutant Hero Turtles or Dogtanian.

I believe this report truly started on Thursday for me, during a relatively new exercise at work where my fellow colleagues and I are asked about our well-being. "Yeah, I'm alright," I replied as we went round the room. "You sure? You looked miserable when you walked in this morning," a colleague replied. This was two days on from Harrogate, another occasion on which that horrible, smarmy pillock Weaver and his merry band of shithouses had got one over on us…AGAIN. Realistica

First, I was going to write this in the form of complaint to the Local Trading Standards Office, citing that we had as a football club support have been mis-sold faulty goods who were unable to perform the basic functions of football and were therefore in breach of the Sale of Goods Act.