Hmm, Mashed 1 Chips 2 wasn’t exactly in the script, was it? A glorious return to football, a carnival of fun, a cacophony of enjoyment, a …… all right. But for once, we were the party pooped. We did control the game for a great deal of it. True, we went 1-0 down, but I still reckon our defence needs to stop acting like one of Franchise’s cardboard cutouts before we can justify our big club tag. We did strike back, and Kevin Cooper (AFCW version) duly obliged. Cue mass bundle, with me avoiding the pricks in front of me. Second half, I swear we tired, though Saturday’s exploits (both on the pitch and allegedly in the curry house afterwards) took their toll.
The result didn’t really matter, officially, though I think now is the time to get real over this. TE was apparently giving the players a major league testiclling afterwards, and once the novelty of this all begins to fade a bit, we may need some major attitude changes. All my opinion of course. For now, I’ll stop doing my Roy Keane impression and instead…..
Plus points: Crowd. Excitement. Pulling back from a goal deficit.
Minus points: The defence. Fitness.
The referee’s a ……. : I thought he did well, considering the niggles that were going on meself. One of the chief nigglers being…..
Cunt: Their #8, one Mike Berry. Goading little pile of horse mucus. Justly deserved his chants of “Number 8’s a wanker”. Should have got sent off, seemed to encourage the abuse and had the utter temerity to score their second goal and run over to us. Oh, if only we were allowed glass bottles in the ground……… I have no doubt BTW that he was whisked after the game in Koppout’s limo, where Rent Boy seductively draped his pus-laden HIV positive cock over Berry’s shit-filled rectal passage, before playing a game of “Yarpie Lawyers and Soweto Crack Whores”. I will willingly pay £10 for somebody to end that little horsefucker’s career in a violent and painful manner.
Chipstead: Bought a few hardy souls. Consistantly good side as well. Coincidentally, Chipstead play in green and white hoops, which are exactly like Glasgow Celtic’s. There are also many other similarities between Chipstead and the Parkhead giants : they both play football, they both begin with “C”, they both were likely to beat us yesterday, neither of them play at Selhurst Park, they…. (that’s enough)
Quotes: (1) “It’s got a nice golf course” – my dad, on Chipstead. Hmm. (2) “We’ve got too many fans” – Phillo over the PA (where the classical music intro was ruined by the horrible amount of analogue distortion). Hey, perhaps when Koppout has finished enjoying himself with Mike Berry, perhaps he’ll stop and have a twinge of guilt about what could have been. No, I doubt it either. (3) “I haven’t got a fucking seat” – our esteemed chairman, Mr K Stewart, on why he was slumming it with us ruffians on the terrace.
Speaking of our esteemed chairman, Mr K Stewart: I’m getting suspicious of his behaviour. Not only did he join us in the riff-raff section, but he was quoted in today’s Wimbledon Post declaring “It now feels the baby is alive”. When he starts wearing sheepskin coats, taking personal ownership of anything AFCW related and gets asked to look at alternative leagues for “big” non-league clubs, I suggest we all do to him what we should have done to the last Wimbledon owner who displayed such quirks
Question: Was there REALLY singing from the Main Stand last night? And was that singing from different parts of the ground almost like Highbury? I said almost……
Truth is stranger than fiction: (1) The crowd outside the entrances 2 hours before game start. The crowd outside the entrances 10 minutes after game start. (2) Having 500 or so turned away will not only look good on paper but will also facilitate extra work for the AFCW season ticket department. (3) Having “Dambusters” playing after we scored. Is this 1996 or what? (4) Seeing people who haven’t been to a game since 1991 enjoying themselves and getting all nostalgic. (5) Cheap(ish) Guinness. (6) Not having to worry about going to a home game to protest, care more about what’s happening off the pitch than on it, etc, etc. You know the drill
Spotted: Terry Burton. David Barnard. Marcus Gayle. Roger Joseph. Jason Euell. Neal Ardley, the ginger-bearded ex-Palace chief steward. All of whom would have no doubt felt at home last night. Sharing a ground, goalkeeper can’t kick to save his life, the Champagne Song making a welcome return, too much sideways passing, poor set pieces, people leaving early and a total inability to win a game in the evening. Who says that AFCW isn’t the real Wimbledon?
Anything else? Yeah, the doors open at 12pm on Saturday, and the local coppers were praising about us.
So, was it worth it? Oh, all right, it was.
In a nutshell: The hard work starts here