Daggers

The other subject I steer away from as it seems the people with the loudest opinions frequently understand the least.

This lot can empathise, they watch Leicester week in week out.

Did she give you 1?

It’s a subject I’ve never begun to discuss. It’s a debate where logic goes to die.

Not wrong then, eh. you should change your name to leathered.

I’ve succumbed and written to them. I know there’s completely no point. It turned from a complaint email into an essay of disgust. I loathe the way the club sees and treats fans. And, quite frankly, their apologists, who whine on about “the modern game” and justify the Disneyfication of the club, can go suck a big fat one too. From memberships to the lack of general sale, from the enforced digitalisation to the price of entry, from the lack of communication to the absence of listening, from the financial irresponsibility to repugnant brushing off of fan groups - there is nothing this club does competently or that doesn’t really fvck me off. They don’t consult, they don’t listen, they just collect the views of useful idiots until they can argue they have a mandate for pissing on tradition or fan desires. And I don’t expect any change now. If they couldn’t restructure last season when evidence of their ineptitude was slapping them in the face like a giant d1ck in a porno, there’s fvck all going to happen until the club is in flames.

Moreover, David Martin was famous in the 80s for being Britain’s most wanted for transvestite cat burglaries and gun crimes. I’m not going to find @Izzy’s crap dad jokes that funny now we know the truth.

Every single thing wrong with football today summed up in one single post. May you and your wife continue to enjoy your soulless, flask rich, match day, clappertastic, coconut wielding days out. Yey business.

What, you haven’t heard of Chris Cash? I think you might now. Yet another Tory turd floating around Parliament. There are more.

Cali…or anything in Colombia, just so long as you don’t fly Avinunca. Everyone needs to develop a love for my favourite country.

Warsaw is OK. I was about to add Krakow into the June trip - maybe not, eh 😂

"No, Leicester City, I expect you to die."

Absolute fvcking life goals: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2024/apr/22/belgian-man-whose-body-makes-its-own-alcohol-cleared-of-drunk-driving

Seeing that Pussyman Dan now has a Twitter blue tick really tickled me…almost as much as seeing Notts Forest fans taking his posts seriously. I’m actually keen to find out who’s running the account.

We have a massively spineless fanbase in a spineless nation. Everyone complained about the FAC changes - and immediately all tuned into the Cov game. So fvcking feeble.

No one needs a season ticket in the Prem when half the matches will be played in different continents.

Manflu is the worst disease that can happen to people. I wish they’d find a cure.

Won’t buy the card. Won’t buy a ST. Won’t buy a ticket.

Losing? Mate, lost is the word. Completely lost. Fvck King Power. Not a penny from me till the cvnts have gone.

Flight from Heathrow was £250 cheaper than flying from Brum…But, train would have cost over £200 and hotel the night before is costing £260. Still, extra night away from the family \o/

Sometimes I wonder why the world is in such a bad place. Then I read posts like this and know why.

Lugging the Elsan toilet to the drain point. Trying to pretend the blue turd soup doesn’t smell disgusting. Was that splash back? That felt like splash back. Fvcking hell, I’m going to be able to use my survival knife for the first time as I amputate my left leg below the shorts line. Still, we got tonight’s meal to look forward to. Tins, two saucepans, plastic plates. Nothing says quality meal than reheated tinned mince on plastic plates. Then we can sleep under the stars. Drifting off to the sound of night creatures, the couple from Walsall arguing, and Debbie from Colchester getting her back gate firmly smashed in by the bloke she met in the pub two hours before.

On one hand, squatting in a damp field as an aluminium bowl of water attempts to boil this side of 2027. Plastic pot containing the coffee did its job, there are ants in the sugar. The milk went off during yesterday’s unseasonal blast of heat. The mug bears the hallmarks of many shit drinks from days gone by. When the whole sorry process is over the deckchair collapses just as you were congratulating your Bear Grylls self in huntergathering coffee drink. On the other, push button on hotel machine. Instant, repeatable espressos and Americanos. In the warm and dry. The air hangs sexily with the scent of bacon.