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.
And that is true for every game from now to the end of the season if we are to stand anything better than a snowball’s chance in hell of getting a top four finish.
However, it’s a 12:30 kickoff, the footballing equivalent of the Abomination of desolation, coming after a six day break, and, seeing as PGMOL’s chosen own, anthony “bluemoon” taylor is the referee, and stuart(w)attwell is VAR, that’s at least one penalty nailed on for the Judderman.
I really don’t know if we should even bother turning up. Just do your best Redmen.
They do say that repeating the same deed but anticipating a different outcome is a sure and certain sign of insanity. Consequently, following the abject failure of Boudica’s daliance with vegan blood sports and my efforts at al fresco nettle-clad bibliomancy, the Mem and I are agreed that, with immediate affect, there shall be no λέγοντα μεταξύ, no mesologue regarding the house of Lowton.
This consonance, this harmonious accord, one might venture as far to say concordat, will surprise many acquainted with our normal mode of interaction. To persons of spirit like the Mem and myself, we believe the only happy marriage is that which is based on a firm foundation of almost incessant quarrelling. Normally, but needs must.
Our self imposed omertà however does extend as far as that foul mouthed pestilence, that blot on the landscape and social pariah, Lawro; he has excelled himself by predicting that the outcome will be a one all draw. Tarring and feathering is too good for some folk.
Hopefully his attempted kiss of death won’t throw a spanner in the works and upset the apple-cart. 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.