V HULL 0-5 (a)
Let down? Yes, as a matter of fact that's exactly how I feel. But not just by the players, one or two of whom didn't give their all out there. I'll tell you what I'm talking about. It's like, in football, we're a superstitious lot. Some players might wear a charm, others might put their left sock on before their right when they're changing. Or then there's me, at the end of the day I'm the boss, I like to rub the assistant coach's balls, you know, for good luck. So, it's midway through the second half, we're only two nil down at that stage, there's still something to play for if only we can get fortune to really smile on us. So to be fair, we're in the dugout, I'm rubbing Vic's balls, quite vigorously – and I'm afraid to say, he's – spilt his seed. The incident goes out on the highlights package on Sunday morning TV, there's me, hand damp with semen in living rooms up and down the country, and the long and short of it, we've had to let Vic go. We, as a professional football club will not tolerate that sort of behaviour, we set ourselves a certain standard and I'm afraid he fell short of it.
V BRISTOL CITY 0-4 (h)
You see, we didn't take our chances. That's the thing. And that was the difference between the two teams out there. It's like, you're at a disco, you know, out disco dancing, having a good time, perhaps a few beers to the good, and there's complaints about the advances, verbal and physical, you've been making, to some of the females present, out on the disco dancing floor. You're asked to leave the premises, you're embarrassed, your daughter's embarrassed, because you've brought her along, but you find a suitable patch on your lap, you sit her down on it and explain that, you know, that's football - faint heart ne'er won fair lady. You have to take your chances at the end of the day, or even at quarter past four in the afternoon at an under fives church hall disco.
V WOLVES, 1-7 (h)
I felt we didn't get the rub of the green as far as decisions went, that's all – I don't want to get ito trouble by slagging off match officials but – well, it's a bit like gnome arson, isn't it? We've all been in that situation, you're out for a walk, you see a couple of garden gnomes in a makeshift rockery, and before you know it, you've run back to the car for a can of petrol and some firelighters, you're dousing the gnomes, tossing a match at them and before long there's a merry old conflagration that everyone can enjoy, which, to be fair, spreads quickly to the rest of the garden. The fire brigade turn up, and you while they mean well, they're effectively ruining the thing as a spectacle by intervening rather than letting things flow. You get angry, you throw stones and half-bricks at them from behind a hedge because that's football. You want spectacle, you want passion, you want to see your team play like gnomes on fire.
V BARNSLEY 0-3 (a)
Today was just one of those days when, you know, you think it's a shame for the fans, they give a lot in terms of support, week in, week out, and you want to give them something back. It's like, you collect together your smegma, let it harden in a jar, and then when you've enough, using a bit of Evostik and the little bit of knowledge you've got of ceramics, you fashion it altogether in your potting shed into the shape of a Swastika. I'm not talking about Prince Harry here, you know, that daftness at parties, I'm taking about recreating a traditional symbol with care and craftsmanship. Yes, it takes a lot of time, a lot of patience, a lot of smegma but at the end of the day, you've created an ideal gift for Mother's Day I'm a giving person. It's just a shame there isn't enough smegma to go round to please everybody.
V COLCHESTER, 0-8 (h)
Elated. Elated, and relieved. It's disappointing that Colchester shaded it on the day, and disappointing that we've ended the season with a points total of zero. But the table doesn't lie, and as you can see, with the three teams below us who were awarded points deductions at the beginning of the season not quite making it to zero themselves, we're home and dry, even it's by the skin of our teeth. There are good days and bad days, and in saving this team from relegation, this has been a good day. It's like, when you're out desecrating pet cemeteries. Some days, all you'll dig up is a budgerigar, or an old cat, or even a goldfish – you wouldn't credit some people, would you? - but then, there are days like today. Your torchlight picks out an unusually large mound – you dig a little it and you realise it's a Great Dane – only very recently buried, in fairness. So, you haul it out, pull its legs apart, and just a few minutes later, no disrespect to your dear lady wife, you've had the most sexually satisfying experience in all the time you've been manager of this proud football club. Today was that sort of day. But there'll be more Great Danes next season, you can count on that.
Let down? Yes, as a matter of fact that's exactly how I feel. But not just by the players, one or two of whom didn't give their all out there. I'll tell you what I'm talking about. It's like, in football, we're a superstitious lot. Some players might wear a charm, others might put their left sock on before their right when they're changing. Or then there's me, at the end of the day I'm the boss, I like to rub the assistant coach's balls, you know, for good luck. So, it's midway through the second half, we're only two nil down at that stage, there's still something to play for if only we can get fortune to really smile on us. So to be fair, we're in the dugout, I'm rubbing Vic's balls, quite vigorously – and I'm afraid to say, he's – spilt his seed. The incident goes out on the highlights package on Sunday morning TV, there's me, hand damp with semen in living rooms up and down the country, and the long and short of it, we've had to let Vic go. We, as a professional football club will not tolerate that sort of behaviour, we set ourselves a certain standard and I'm afraid he fell short of it.
V BRISTOL CITY 0-4 (h)
You see, we didn't take our chances. That's the thing. And that was the difference between the two teams out there. It's like, you're at a disco, you know, out disco dancing, having a good time, perhaps a few beers to the good, and there's complaints about the advances, verbal and physical, you've been making, to some of the females present, out on the disco dancing floor. You're asked to leave the premises, you're embarrassed, your daughter's embarrassed, because you've brought her along, but you find a suitable patch on your lap, you sit her down on it and explain that, you know, that's football - faint heart ne'er won fair lady. You have to take your chances at the end of the day, or even at quarter past four in the afternoon at an under fives church hall disco.
V WOLVES, 1-7 (h)
I felt we didn't get the rub of the green as far as decisions went, that's all – I don't want to get ito trouble by slagging off match officials but – well, it's a bit like gnome arson, isn't it? We've all been in that situation, you're out for a walk, you see a couple of garden gnomes in a makeshift rockery, and before you know it, you've run back to the car for a can of petrol and some firelighters, you're dousing the gnomes, tossing a match at them and before long there's a merry old conflagration that everyone can enjoy, which, to be fair, spreads quickly to the rest of the garden. The fire brigade turn up, and you while they mean well, they're effectively ruining the thing as a spectacle by intervening rather than letting things flow. You get angry, you throw stones and half-bricks at them from behind a hedge because that's football. You want spectacle, you want passion, you want to see your team play like gnomes on fire.
V BARNSLEY 0-3 (a)
Today was just one of those days when, you know, you think it's a shame for the fans, they give a lot in terms of support, week in, week out, and you want to give them something back. It's like, you collect together your smegma, let it harden in a jar, and then when you've enough, using a bit of Evostik and the little bit of knowledge you've got of ceramics, you fashion it altogether in your potting shed into the shape of a Swastika. I'm not talking about Prince Harry here, you know, that daftness at parties, I'm taking about recreating a traditional symbol with care and craftsmanship. Yes, it takes a lot of time, a lot of patience, a lot of smegma but at the end of the day, you've created an ideal gift for Mother's Day I'm a giving person. It's just a shame there isn't enough smegma to go round to please everybody.
V COLCHESTER, 0-8 (h)
Elated. Elated, and relieved. It's disappointing that Colchester shaded it on the day, and disappointing that we've ended the season with a points total of zero. But the table doesn't lie, and as you can see, with the three teams below us who were awarded points deductions at the beginning of the season not quite making it to zero themselves, we're home and dry, even it's by the skin of our teeth. There are good days and bad days, and in saving this team from relegation, this has been a good day. It's like, when you're out desecrating pet cemeteries. Some days, all you'll dig up is a budgerigar, or an old cat, or even a goldfish – you wouldn't credit some people, would you? - but then, there are days like today. Your torchlight picks out an unusually large mound – you dig a little it and you realise it's a Great Dane – only very recently buried, in fairness. So, you haul it out, pull its legs apart, and just a few minutes later, no disrespect to your dear lady wife, you've had the most sexually satisfying experience in all the time you've been manager of this proud football club. Today was that sort of day. But there'll be more Great Danes next season, you can count on that.
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