Well... I suppose that I should at least try and write a few things while I'm waiting for the Fonz to duly strap on his water-skis and prepare for this seasons grand finale of EPL-Enders.
Happy days!
I'm going to start by slagging of TalkSport - what a pile of shite... I have been refurbishing my flat and I, bored with painting, decided to find some company in a portable radio - y'know, like a proper prole. I tell you what the torrent of shite that that station puts out is beyond my comprehension - is it a comedy? Is it Parody? Surely... it can't be serious!?
Yesterdays discussions revolved around horse racing tips and a debate on 'how dare those dirty towel heads diss our brave lads'. Then Wrighty came on with this horrible fucking sidekick and talked even more shit... there was a 'what's your favourite computer font' phone in!? Today the action revolved around the Arsenal fans in Rome getting a pasting on the bus... and more horse racing tips - the morning session was all about the dirty I-ties; where as the afternoon session discussed how shit Arsenal were and whether the Arsenal fans were asking for it (a stabbing) - the phone in was 'now you know the facts, are Arsenal fans cunts?' - the justification for this was based on an Italian policeman falling over as an Arsenal fan escaped arrest and subsequent beating in the back of the van... there were no callers unsurprisingly and they moved on to Sepp Blatter and how dare he dictate to us how to play football!
This debate was revealing... particularly with the ambitious sidekick to Wrighty carefully dictating the script in his cockney-wanker 'bloke down the pub' manner. Apparently Sepp has dismissed goal line technology as he wants people to play football - not machines - or something. This was carefully whipped into a Sun meets Daily Mail outrage and spun in a rumplestiltskinesque manner into a debate on how it would be OK if we had an extra helper for the ref on the goal line to keep an eye on the ball rather than a pesky machine - it's poor circuits couldn't keep up with a fast moving ball, apparently, and this was backed up by an email from 'Steve' who reckoned that it wouldn't work. And a few more emails from stooges claiming that a bit of controversy made football interesting and we would have nothing to talk about if the correct refereeing decisions were made all the time. Wrighty just nodded along like a Muppet.
This, of course, is utter fucking bollocks... an extra man to check the goal line and help with penalty decisions simply adds another opportunity for corruption i.e. you can't give an apple mac a backhander and ask it to look the other way in the same way that you can't take a PS3 out, get him laid and then threaten to tell his missus if he didn't make the 'right' decisions in a specified match.
But lets skip back the record to the Roma vs Arsenal game... I'm not sure about you but I suspected foul play (actually it was pretty blatant). The Ref was alright... but Roma... tell me this - how can a team with an average age in it's thirties and carrying several injuries play football for two hours straight and then suddenly start bouncing around like spring lambs? Totti - the cunt - played extra time whilst chewing fucking gum!! ColonelDecker reckons that after 90 minutes the camera panned to the Roma team and the phisio was handing out bottles that they just downed before pulling a face and gurning before the camera flicked away again. When it came to the end of extra time the Arsenal team (with an average age in its early twenties) where on their backs panting and cramping up while the Roma lot were all grinding their teeth and jigging about to an imaginary Kylie tune.
Still justice was done and what an experience for the team to get through... Roma - you tried your best, then cheated and still failed - fuck you.
I couldn't watch the penalties - I just downed my pint and left the Chapman, came home and watched the text stream from the BBC Sport site whist eating a toasted cheese and white onion sandwich... sad - it would have been nice to be in the pub with the fans when Tonetto skied it. Not watching penalties now is officially 'lucky'.
I wouldn't have liked to have been one of the Roma team this morning... waking up in a puddle of cold sweat, paranoid with a minging head and a cock that had shrunk to the size of an acorn... it serves them right.
Fucking losers.
I'm going to skip back now a bit further to the first leg when Roma came to the Emirates. TalkSport were banging on about how Arsenal fans should have known better than to go down the wrong street and meet the Ultras, etc. and generally apologising for hooliganism and encouraging fans of all teams to beat the shit out of any away fan that may inadvertently stray into their local on match day. And this got me thinking - in the first leg the Ultras came to Holloway - they pretty much had the streets pre-match and I could clearly hear their chants in the roads all around my house for hours before kick-off. They were roaming in packs looking for the Arsenal firm with a stripe painted over their eyes and scarves round their faces - very organised. Post match I considered just sprinting home as I knew that there would be trouble... I'm not a coward but those boys don't fuck about - they are stabby and fight like a military campaign. In the end I ended up down the Herbert Chapman with the boys to discuss how shit Roma were and how we should have got 5 passed them.
Then the shit hit the fucking fan.
There was a noise outside and there were running battles up and down the Holloway road between the Arsenal hooligans and the Ultras... there were probably over 100 people involved in this - ColonelDecker's younger brother went out with KeepTheFaith for a look - I stayed back and made escape plans with the Decker in case it all went wrong. Chairs, bottles and bricks flew past the window and, when they ran out of those, the Ultras turned to my local Turkish green grocer for some slightly less effective missiles.
The Decker's younger brother came running in panting: "It's mental out there the bloke next to me just got hit with a fuckin' pineapple!! He went down with all pineapple marks on his face!"
KeepTheFaith produced a white onion and proudly placed it on the pool table... I don't know if it hit him or he caught it.
We decided to really make some quite serious plans... these involved sticking a quid in the pool table and getting the balls out, retiring to the disabled bogs (our appointed "helms deep") and bracing the door while we made 'scum' style I'm-the-daddy sock'n'pool ball head smackers as a last line of defence.
The Ultras then smashed up the McDonald's... which I quite admired them for - if only for a millisecond... then we realised that they only did it to get the metal pavement furniture to use as shields in an operation to storm the Chapman. Luckily for us it was that flimsy aluminium stuff and just bounced and buckled off the windows - but they had made the ground and set about trying to boot the door in... scary shit. The enormous Polish bouncers on the door did well and gathered everyone in and got the whole thing bolted up as they arrived - we then sat tight and waited for the cavalry to come...
...You would think that at this point the Metropolitan Police would make some sort of an appearance?
Nope... they shat it and, i'm informed, decided to wait around the corner until the SPG turned up 15 fucking minutes later!
The cavalry, when it did come, was in the form of the Arsenal firm who re-took the Chapman in a running battle that could either be described as brave, insane or a fucking good night out - depending on your perspective... actually the Arsenal boys were about as scary as the Ultras - massive fuckers and all of them completely twunted on cocaine. They came in bleeding with broken hands and faces, eyes rolling around their heads carrying a fallen comrade. One of them shouted 'Clean up' and those who required 'cleaning up' dragged the fallen comrade to the bogs. We felt no safer in their presence... there is something in the eyes of fighting men, a mixture of adrenaline, fear and testosterone (and class A's) that just exudes a choking and oppressive air of violence to all those around who had the temerity to be absent from the front line. We listened in as they talked of the battle - it was a hard one for the home team and there had been some stabbings by the sound of it.
Ten minutes later they came out of the bogs - cleaned up of blood, clothes straightened and pressing wads of scarlet bog-roll to their wounds. KeepTheFaith peeked in after they came out and saw over 20 discarded cocaine wraps on the floor... the mobile phones then came out and with much chatter the battle lines were re-drawn. They left as quickly as they came... Ultras too - just before the police turned up.
Why do I pay my taxes again?
Some plain clothes boys then strolled in and took the CCTV film and left - all was quiet... I took the onion home - but not before stopping by the grocers to buy some bits and pieces, some cheese and a couple of cans of red stripe to see me to bed.
None of this was reported... anywhere - but it happened right here in England and in a local Home Fans pub - so TalkSport, get your fucking facts straight and talk about sport for a change eh... otherwise why not just change the name to TalkShit!?
