Today we face a visit from the barcodes, a prospect that affects me rather as the announcement that for the future they might expect to be chastised with scorpions instead of, as under the previous administration, with whips must have affected the Children of Israel.
And given our parlous position with regards to attaining a position amidst the top four I was contemplating saying something such as “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”
But I won’t for fear of a reoccurrence, or worse, of what happened against Leeds, when we were left dismally limp among the ruins of our golden dreams.
And I shan’t refer to today’s officials either, other than to express the earnest opinion that somewhere, in a cozy corner of the electric flame department of the infernal regions, there stands a little silver gridiron. It is the private property of his Satanic majesty, and is reserved exclusively for the men who officiate football matches, especially those who operate VAR.
Boudica of course has proposed her own peculiar method of resolving the issue of wayward match officials.
It was a solution that had not occurred to me, but now that it was presented for my inspection I could see its merits. In these days of national effort, when we are all working together to try to make our beloved land fit for heroes to live in, it was astonishing that nobody before had thought of a simple, obvious thing, but it had taken a woman’s intuition to see it.
The Mem threw in the last suggestion entirely in a sporting spirit, as she is of the opinion that these little encounters, might sharpen the wits, stimulate the circulation, and keep one out in the open air.
In a likewise spirit I conclude this week’s sermon with the ubiquitous beatitudes:
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. 
