“And the crowd goes into raptures once again, as he appears on the pitch, and all round the ground the chant ‘ B.O.! B.O!’ goes up. And there, he smiles and graciously acknowledges them all with a wave of his hand. What a year it’s been for this group of players and the likeable, mastermind owner of this club, who many claim is some sort of fucking Visionary.
It’s been a season of record breaking feats for this club. No team has ever won The Premier Inn League (South East) and the Domme Mensen Challenge Trophy in a single season. But this owner has steered, moulded and driven this team with all the blinding dedication, all the care and love that 5% of his time could muster, and the fruits of that relentless commitment are there for all to see.
Many fans have said they knew this year would be something special; from the very first moment that it was announced that there would be an extra chip per portion, they knew this signalled a new intent.
The early signing of the left back, Klaus Von Messageboardthing, who became the skipper and talisman, sent a murmur of anticipation through the terraces, as he was joined by midfielder Frank Semicirclesex and striker, Patrik Fansofa. Though, of course we should spare a thought for the latter, stretchered off the pitch today, having been hacked to bits near the end of the game.
Oh....and look a group of fans have run on to the pitch! And they’re picking up a protesting ( oh the irony ) B.O to raise him on to their shoulders and your coffee’s ready.... I SAID, your coffee’s ready. You’ve nodded off on your bench again, haven’t you? Right, stop dribbling on your rivets, I’ll leave this coffee next to you then. And try not to spend the whole day in this stupid shed, those bins need emptying.”
Well, let’s leave the B.O. perchance to dream, and let’s hope some of our dreams come true next year.. Happy New Year. He’s still here. Oh fuck...
Wishing 3blokes a healthy and good counting new year. I nominated 3blokes for a knighthood in the latest gongs awards unfortunately he just lost out to a Cook, not Ramsey or Oliver but a guy called Alistair.
Oh my fucking 1823 days, the Shitweasel Douchebag is only still here even though 99.9 % of fans have never seen him in the flesh.
Wishing 3blokes a healthy and good counting new year. I nominated 3blokes for a knighthood in the latest gongs awards unfortunately he just lost out to a Cook, not Ramsey or Oliver but a guy called Alistair.
Oh my fucking 1823 days, the Shitweasel Douchebag is only still here even though 99.9 % of fans have never seen him in the flesh.
5 years of Sofas and sex on the pitch, How could it ever go off without a hitch. Polish Pete to replace the Talisman Yann, How could that lad replace the main man.
5 years of ugh's and ducktaped shoes, Too long contracts and debt he accrued. We watched the Premier stars of the future, Instead of honing skills of the karma sutre.
5 years of an experiment which is doomed, Anil koc was the first to be groomed. He left without playing a game, Some of the signings were just insane.
5 years to reach the promised land, Instead of premier we reached La La land. Roland Duchatelet is one of a kind. Sometime soon he will be enshrined.
Day 1828 and 1829. All is quiet in the shed this morning. Outside, at the far end of the lawn, Harvey the gardener leans on his spade for a moment, and looks round. The place is looking a little better. It has felt like rather a long winter, but there are some early signs of a thaw, and that Spring may, indeed, not be too far away. The birds are singing again in the trees, and he glances up at them. The singing started to come back and have a bit of life in it as soon as he had got rid of that irritating squirrel on Wednesday, he thinks, one of a few pests that have needed removing. And then he spots a little red robin perched on a nearby branch with a worm in his mouth. He’s looking pleased with himself. As well he might, thinks Harvey, and with a contented smile, he continues happily with his work. Well, let’s leave that pleasant scene and Harvey preparing that great big lawn, and let’s hope that that all our gardens, as that chap Voltaire recommended ( sort of ) get a little boost of cultivation in the coming days. He’s still here. Oh fuck...
Now is the time for all good men to come to the aid of their country - Charles E Weller. I catch falling cans of baked beans on toast, technology is the most - Paul Weller
“ And, so there you have it, perfect meringues every time. Join us tomorrow when I’ll be showing you how to really spice up your bread making with some anthrax.”
Oh sorry, just trying to take my mind off things by watching a bit of tv.
Anyway, Day1831he’sstillhereohfuck..
“ And now in a change to our scheduled programme, it’s time for Let’s All Watch A Dripping Tap!”
There was a flicker of hope, with uncle Jim White. Now we are a candle in the breeze as radio waves fade. The sun ducks it's head. Darkness prevails. Grown men weep. Brave words drift off to die, replaced by laments and black space. We lusted after tasty fake news bites, but we feel unsated, left over crumbs, Messy, untidy, gather grime.
Comments
He’s still here.
Oh that’s it about it for another year fuck...
He’s still here.
Oh fuck..
Nah!
What a wanker he is
Roland Duchâtelet
What a wanker he is
He’s fucked us right up
He don’t have a clue
He lost loads of dough though
That much is true
Then to the tune of Gold by Spandau Ballet
Oh you are shit, shit,
Always believing you’re shit
You’ve got the power to sell
You’re incapable
you are shit. Shit
(Sorry couldn’t be bothered to get it to scan perfectly, a bit shit really.)
He’s still here.
Unbelievable, Jeff.
But it’s true.
Oh fuck..
The commentator is in full flow:
“And the crowd goes into raptures once again, as he appears on the pitch, and all round the ground the chant ‘ B.O.! B.O!’ goes up. And there, he smiles and graciously acknowledges them all with a wave of his hand. What a year it’s been for this group of players and the likeable, mastermind owner of this club, who many claim is some sort of fucking Visionary.
It’s been a season of record breaking feats for this club. No team has ever won The Premier Inn League (South East) and the Domme Mensen Challenge Trophy in a single season. But this owner has steered, moulded and driven this team with all the blinding dedication, all the care and love that 5% of his time could muster, and the fruits of that relentless commitment are there for all to see.
Many fans have said they knew this year would be something special; from the very first moment that it was announced that there would be an extra chip per portion, they knew this signalled a new intent.
The early signing of the left back, Klaus Von Messageboardthing, who became the skipper and talisman, sent a murmur of anticipation through the terraces, as he was joined by midfielder Frank Semicirclesex and striker, Patrik Fansofa. Though, of course we should spare a thought for the latter, stretchered off the pitch today, having been hacked to bits near the end of the game.
Oh....and look a group of fans have run on to the pitch! And they’re picking up a protesting ( oh the irony
Well, let’s leave the B.O. perchance to dream, and let’s hope some of our dreams come true next year..
Happy New Year.
He’s still here.
Oh fuck...
Hopefully the last year of scrotumface owning us.
I nominated 3blokes for a knighthood in the latest gongs awards unfortunately he just lost out to a Cook,
not Ramsey or Oliver but a guy called Alistair.
Oh my fucking 1823 days, the Shitweasel Douchebag is only still here even though 99.9 % of fans have never seen him in the flesh.
and can 2019 please be the year when B.O. finally manages to F.O.?
Welcome 2019.
He’s still here.
Oh fuck...
While BO doesn’t seem to have got into the New Year spirit yet and effed off, at least the adverts on the page are looking to cheer me up.
Not sure whether there is room for this Bobby dazzler in the wardrobe but what a shirt:
Now, can anyone find an advert for a good item of clothing for B.O.?
Judging by the TalkSPORT interview, its his mouth & brain which need controlling, not his arms.
(And, no, I'm not suggesting a gimp mask!)
Well, another anniversary is almost upon us.
And he’s still here.
Oh fuck...
Well, that’s another year just about chalked up.
There’s fresh talk of a takeover.
He’s still here.
Oh fuck....
How could it ever go off without a hitch.
Polish Pete to replace the Talisman Yann,
How could that lad replace the main man.
5 years of ugh's and ducktaped shoes,
Too long contracts and debt he accrued.
We watched the Premier stars of the future,
Instead of honing skills of the karma sutre.
5 years of an experiment which is doomed,
Anil koc was the first to be groomed.
He left without playing a game,
Some of the signings were just insane.
5 years to reach the promised land,
Instead of premier we reached La La land.
Roland Duchatelet is one of a kind.
Sometime soon he will be enshrined.
Everybody’s talking bout Takeover Makeover Bakeover Shakeover Fakeover.
All we are saying -
He’s still here.
Oh fuck
All is quiet in the shed this morning.
Outside, at the far end of the lawn, Harvey the gardener leans on his spade for a moment, and looks round. The place is looking a little better. It has felt like rather a long winter, but there are some early signs of a thaw, and that Spring may, indeed, not be too far away.
The birds are singing again in the trees, and he glances up at them. The singing started to come back and have a bit of life in it as soon as he had got rid of that irritating squirrel on Wednesday, he thinks, one of a few pests that have needed removing.
And then he spots a little red robin perched on a nearby branch with a worm in his mouth. He’s looking pleased with himself. As well he might, thinks Harvey, and with a contented smile, he continues happily with his work.
Well, let’s leave that pleasant scene and Harvey preparing that great big lawn, and let’s hope that that all our gardens, as that chap Voltaire recommended ( sort of
He’s still here.
Oh fuck...
I catch falling cans of baked beans on toast, technology is the most - Paul Weller
Keep calm and carry on up the count.
He’s still here.
Oh fuck..
Oh sorry, just trying to take my mind off things by watching a bit of tv.
Anyway, Day1831he’sstillhereohfuck..
“ And now in a change to our scheduled programme, it’s time for Let’s All Watch A Dripping Tap!”
He’s still here, guys.
OH FUCK..
with uncle Jim White.
Now we are a candle in the breeze
as radio waves fade.
The sun ducks it's head.
Darkness prevails.
Grown men weep.
Brave words drift off to die,
replaced by laments and black space.
We lusted after tasty fake news bites,
but we feel unsated,
left over crumbs,
Messy, untidy,
gather grime.
Oh fuck he's still here.
Mint anybody?
He’s still here.
Oh deflated fuck...
Well, it’s been emotional.
He’s still here.
Oh fuck...