via Seven DaysJust back from the football and I've suddenly remembered one of the reasons I'd stopped going. It was like having Statler and Waldorf from the Muppets behind me. Grizzling, moany faced old cunts.............
They were actually correct in a few of their observations, but their unrelenting dourness had me wishing I'd brought a gun with me.
I shouldn't moan, it only cost me a fiver......
2 comments:
This reminds me of an incident a few years back. Where I sit there is a fella know as mouth. He was christened mouth by a female fan towards the end of a humiliating derby defeat in which Everton had two men sent off, not that it stopped mouth from lambasting the team constantly as he had been doing for most of that season. His reaction when confronted was hilarious, he was stunned that someone had challenged him over his constant stream of fuckwittery.
The man lives to moan, but he knows fuck all about football. The worst thing about him is his complete lack of self-awareness, he is a fuckwit and has been called a plum for displaying his ignorance in public and has even caused me to call him a "Knobhead" through gritted teeth (he still heard me). It amazes me that at every home game he feels it necessary to inflict his footballing knowledge on us all. All mouth; no fucking brain.
Annoying old sods at matches I can deal with, it's the unctious little keyboard warriors on the forums who appoint themselves as 'the voice of the people', simply because they have a grudge against the manager. As soon as a few results fail to go our way, the sheep on the message boards suddenly decide that this gobshite is the new messiah and start clamouring for the managers head.
Nobody gets the time to build anything in football these days, I just find it depressing.
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