A funny old game
"OK, so they're a bit crinkled. 'Hello, police, somebody broke into my office and crinkled my papers and things'"...
Much seems to be happening with football in my world lately. Suddenly realising that I've signed up to not only a serious, full match specification league (shin pads necessary – but no magic sponge), but that I've signed up to 5-a-side too. Crikey, in week two I was impressed that I ran from the nether regions behind Car Park 15 to Gibbet Hill. (shock #2 for the last 2 minutes – I just typed 'crikey' – too much neighbours).
Unsurprisingly then, our first match didn't go so great. Ocean's Eleven, and strictly eleven – we'd forgotten subs – collapsed to an 8–1 defeat. WBS up next, notorious for being a bit 'good'. If we manage to score this week the celebrations are likely to be injury-inducingly good. In other words, I think we'll just pile in on top of each other then all walk home with damaged vertebrae. Or something. I'm not a doctor.
Of course, I say 'we'. Not me. I got injured. First bloody game and I smash up my toe. Alas! All is not lost! I can still act out my game winning plans on Pro Evo. But I somehow doubt that'll be any good for fitness.
But the football shenanigans don't end there! Oh no! In the space of two weeks, the heroes of SE25 have gone from useless, to that'll-do, to spectacular. Losing to your biggest rivals, who are, incidentally, a crock of shite, only to go on and ease past a mediocre Burnley side before humiliating the European Champions really doesn't make any sense.
..."Its not piss"