Why, whenever and wherever I sit at The Valley, is there always a bloke behind me moaning his arse off, refusing to clap whilst knowing more than whichever manager or owner is in charge at the time.
This cannot be chance - it is an utter mystery to me, a haunting of such pain and anguish you could make a crappy American teen horror flick out of it. Instead of 'The Ring' think 'Valley Suffer Ring'
That bloke sat behind me for a number of years. He even moved seats when I did, and changed his voice. Is it possible there's more than one of him?
The bigger mystery for me is why do they bother coming if it's so shit? If you went to a concert and every week you thought the band were effing useless and sang like a bunch of ducks you wouldn't go would you?
I've wondered about this a lot. The only explanation I can come up with is that these people must have a combination of low self-esteem and high fecklessness. Therefore, abusing others is the only thing they can to to (temporarily) feel better about they own shortcomings.
That whenever I am off sick, it is guaranteed that a meter reader will knock on the door. Are they watching the house 24/7 to see when I'm in? Do they knock on the door every single day and I don't usually notice because I'm at work? Or, are they really industrial spies sent by my boss to check that I really am ill? I always ham it up for them with at least one, "oooh my 'kin head" and a lot of sniffing and coughing, just in case.
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The three points that went missing on Saturday lunchtime ....