I'm not over cheerful this sunny Sunday. You'd think I would be having last night watched Charlton live on TV for the second weekend on the trot. You'd also probably think I'd be used to us losing, again. But having invested an evening and a fridge full of Bintangs to the expected pleasure, I was seriously disappointed.
I know there are loads of excuses, such as having to field a severely crocked team of amputees and the unfortunate Fortune who had a broken toe, but that's no defence, even though the defence did their best.
I wrote to Frankie Valley last night. If there were a Jakartass award for the best football blog, his would win it.
In fact he has.
Pomp(ey) and (appalling) Circumstance
Hi Frankie,
I ain't happy. There we were giving as good as we got in terms of possession, shots on goal, corners and general 'ere we go, 'ere we go and the six packs of Bintang are into the eighteen packs and ..... we bloody well lose !!!
My voice has gone and the TV's gone deaf 'cos no-one else was bloody listening to me ~ close 'im darn, get back yer lazy git, stoopid ~ and so it went until our heroes really bottled it.
Bring back Kiely I say. He didn't put a foot wrong all game.
I was going to post this earlier but Discovery Channel was showing A Haunting. The house was saved but the evil followed the family. Seemed appropriate somehow.
Ho hum.
Is that our season finished, then?
Shit.
Frankie Valley : Is our season over, you ask JA? Bloody hell no - we've got another thirty-three games of this torture to go yet.
Yep, I felt so miserable that I've spent the day playing with my toys and listening to some of my favourite music.
And I do feel better for it. Do you want to whistle along with me?
