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Absolutely woeful, zero craft, zero energy, zero effort, zero willingnes.. Varane once again coasting through a game, offering nothing but sideways and backwards passes or lazy flingy balls out wide. We started with Burrell up against leaden footed Matt Clarke and not once did we test him, not once...
I'm casting Matt Damon as the protagonist, with an overbearing Billy Bob Thornton as his coach/mentor/nemisis. Directed by the Coen Brothers, possibly in blsck and white?
Hi folks, as I'm currently lying in a hospital bed, I won't be able to go to the game tomorrow. If anyone would like a free ticket, please feel free to DM me.
Fair point, what I actually meant was the longing for and adulation of (not you personally) our players not living up to their potential, or just simply moving on to pastures new. Substitute Sinclair for Duke-McKenna, for Dykes read Manning, for Dieng swap in Dickie... just not cricket i em aitch oh
Much cooler than my proposed effort, although I literally did sequence yours as the theme tune to Flipper. Maybe the Prince Buster estate have a claim?
Mine was something on the lines of:
"All around him he's sees familiar faces, they're lack of paces, trying to make space'eee'ss
All our fans find find him funny.... find him kind of sad, But when he sends them balls forward, he's the best we've ever had.
If we could couple a Spaceman authored fred with Stowmarket reviving his walk from Oxford Circus to W12, we'd be European Champions within 2 years.
Happy Burrfffday, my 40th was on a cold, wet January day during lockdown, so had no one to see, nowhere to go and nothing to do... make the most of it (downhill from 'ere)
Well, I could raise you Preston away 23/24 where Chair completely changed the game when introduced at half time. I get the holding on sometimes too long etc etc, but to completely dismiss him as a creative force is in my opinion a little short sighted. That's one example that comes to mind before the '1 game in 250 odd' come flooding in.
Rugby Union is simply a game full of too many rules, whereby players who decide, and are good enough to play at a higher level, yet cross a body of water, either 3.2 miles in respect of Welsh players, or 21 miles in respect of English players, are suddenly deemed unable to represent their country, and then every couple of years, despite the (sly sports encouraged) animosity of the 5/6/7 (?) Nations Cup, come together and hug and play for a combined (commercial inspired) nonsense thing which seems to pit them against a team whom their respective nations have also played, as their nations. Also loved by people who have started working for Goldman Sachs and are forced to appear that they like the sport just to fit in, who then declare a lifelong allegiance to corporately imagined entities such as 'Sarries' and 'Quins', whilst their only comeback is "footballers are wusses". Swing low indeed... I'm probably just a football supporting idiot
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