This is the most important game of the season, well at least it will be until the next one. It’s an absolutely must win game.
Nothing is easier than to denounce the evildoer; nothing is more difficult than to understand him, but it’s easy to understand that someone at the FA enjoys a joke, especially when its at someone else’s expense. They have insisted that the game tonight against asinine villa should proceed.
And yes, there will be those who will snort in derision, “Must win match indeed! Old Lowton_Red’s lost the plot, it’s only the FA cup”. But we must demonstrate our credentials as champions by administering a sound thrashing to asinine villain’s makeshift team composed as it will be of callow youths and fellow travellers. We will have to guard against complacency however, as it’s rumoured that they will field their demon striker, Doris the tea lady.
I’m not absolutely certain, but I rather fancy it’s Nietzsche who says that it’s always just when a fellow is feeling particularly chipper with things in general that Fate sneaks up behind him with the bit of lead piping. In our case, just to level things up, Fate, in the form of POGMOL, has appointed craig “no pen for the Redmen” pawson as referee and paul “pie eater” tierney as VAR.
Perhaps the pendulum might have swung too far back in the villains’ favour; consequently expect nothing from the ref, or VAR, and you won’t be disappointed.
Following our run of poor results the mood in the Lowton household has been sombre. Boudica has been moping about the place looking like something that might have occurred to Ibsen in one of his less frivolous moments. When I tried to lighten the mood with cheery comments such as "It could be worse, we could support ἡ κόπρος κύανος , she responded with a look, a haggard and careworn look, like a Borgia who has suddenly remembered that she has forgotten to shove cyanide in the consommé, and the dinner-gong due any moment.
Many men in my position, thwarted by a Mem who resolutely declines to see the brighter side, would have resigned themselves sullenly to defeat. But I’m made of sterner stuff. As I advanced my arguments I adopted that set, grim expression which is always seen on the faces of those who are about to put their fortune to the test, to win or lose it all. The Old Guard at Waterloo looked much the same.
And, in common with the Old Guard at Waterloo it didn’t end well.
When the Mem uses six derogatory adjectives in her attempt to paint the portrait of her espoused, it means something, and that something is usually trouble.
One may indicate a merely temporary tiff. Six is big stuff.
As someone once said, pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. If that were true I (and all my fellow Redmen) should belong to Mensa and have a heart comparable in size to that of the blue whale. So we need the win, however:
This game has all the makings of a potential banana skin! (well someone had to say it)
I’ll take a scrappy 1-0 win to us.