Saturday, 11 February 2017

An Ux-bridged

So there we were... M3, M25, M4... the usual Heathrow procession. Unfortunately we weren't stopping off at Heathrow T3 to head out to Lesbos for some much needed refuelling action. No, it was destination Honeycroft for us on this relatively sun-drenched Saturday. With the calendar ticking down towards 2 months since our last away win, euphoria levels were still very much at tepid. That said, we're Boro and this league is tinpot respectable, so we approached the leafy suburbs of West Drayton with the usual levels of misplaced entitlement.

First thing that struck you about the ground was the sheer amount of picket fence pitch surrounds. Frankly there was more wood then Curtis "Mayfield" Osano in the showers. Much like Aaron "the Slayer" Bufton on twitter, though, we don't care much for sitting on the fence... so we leaned. Should probably be a joke about going on the of-fence in there too... but we digress.

Only notable selection discussion point was the benching of John "tiny dancer" Oyenuga, albeit not overly surprising after his nightmare half hour against the CSP'ers the prior week. Jack "Mischa" Barton thrown into the action like a hard brexit.

By the time we'd been sidetracked by the Uxbeerfridge red kit looking like we were playing FIFA on the xbox against the England'66 team, KO time was upon us like a 70's Nobby Stiles pun.

It wasn't the greatest opening 15 minutes again. Both sides looking tentative and frankly a bit scrappy. We haven't heard from the guy who decided it was a good idea to go in late on "Reggie", but we'd guess he's unconscious, in a bag, in the deepest reaches of Siberia by now. The game felt like it was up for grabs like a bag of chips at a tramp convention and it soon became apparent that goals would be the main course for this half. To be fair to the hosts, unlike the current labour party, it was a clinical move down the left which got their noses in front. The Boro rearguard suckered in like a virgin walking past a strip club, allowing some prick to bulge "the Slayer's" ball bag. 0-1

Much like the men's queue for the toilet at a Chippendales' gig, we didn't have long to wait. The first time we ventured towards the host's area in anger and Eddie "Gillette" Smith was cut down like that first dump the night after a big curry. The ref, starting as he meant to go on, was having none of that. Moments later though and Nic "clintons" Ciardini, benefiting from his new in built solar panels, muscled his way into the action like "Reggie" at a head shaving convention and coolly sliced open the defence like "Mischa" Barton subjugating over the state of the NHS. 1-1

A couple of minutes on and the ref moved into 'slipstream bellend' mode as Dennis "the fire engine" Oli was scythed down like an overgrown shrubbery in the box. More stonewall than a car park, but there you go. Boro were starting to flex their almighty wang power now and the UxxyBridgers were getting peppered like an over seasoned rump. Just after the 30 min marker and a moment of sheer coffee overdosed pants wetting euphoria ensued as a half arsed clearance fell to "Mischa" Barton who leathered an 85 yard ball buster into the ball bag. The only thing more impressive than the actual strike itself was "Micha's" effort to remain cool and collected at his own surprise at what had just unfolded. Mobbed by his team mates, it was a classic away day goal. Spiffing! 2-1

Boro continued to boss the remainder of the half, although a monumental recovery and block from Josh "the Salmon" Huggins" in the box, after the ironically named "Woods" had worked himself some space, kept us in the ascendancy. HT 2-1

Fresh from the lovely HT bread pudding (#nonleague), it was back into the action. Boro pressing like a Corby. "the fire engine" had a snap shot hand-jobbed around the post for a GK and "Fogle" might have done slightly better with a head banger after "Reggie" got his 1 wood out from the touchline.
Like a man with a penchant for very curvy women, we started to flirt with a case of the wobbles as that old 'sit back or attack it' mentality started to weigh on the minds. "Clintons" took one for the team and had to proceed with caution after having a tug at their one of their counter breakers. In an act of team unity though, the Uxbridgerers decided to seek some retribution and flattend "Clintons" just outside the box. From the resulting free kick, "Fogle" stepped up and sculpted a wondrous strike with more curve and bend then our entire season. Unfortunately for the travelling hordes, though, it struck the cross bar like a atheist teetotaller.
"Mishca" Barton was next to take one for the team as he thwarted a U-bridge counter after a sloppy Boro pass. Caution was the result once again. "The Fire Engline" almost got his sirens whirring when he got on the end of a "Salmon" corner flick on, good handjob by the ballbag protector. "Clintons" drove at the defense like a blind man in a Ferrari, drawing a needed yet unspectacular handjob from the ballbag man again.
Once the home side had finished headbutting each other out of the game, the Boro bench came to life and "tiny dancer" was sent on for "the Fire Engine" and, not for the first time in recent games, we made it count with the ballbag unload coming pretty instantaneously. "The Salmon" and "Gillette" causing more panic in the final third and Perry "the Hoffen" Coles was on hand to guide his low shot past the despairing paw of the ballbag man. Number 13 for "the Hoffen", did we tell you his bloodtype was A-goal positive? Yes? Oh, well fuck it... it's a good line.

 That third goal eased the Boro faithful's squeaky bums like a tube of anusol. The players carried on in their quest for 'busters though as what turned into a thoroughly professional half of football came to a wind down. There was time for "The Goat" and "Ali" Shaban to enter proceedings to add more vital game time to their growing repertoires. Even a disallowed home side goal in the dying seconds couldn't take the shine off of this one.

I think the coaching manuals would refer to the afternoon as great game management. Then again, referring to the players as pimps probably wouldn't have been the best instruction in advance of their celebratory night out together.
We came to learn that the Smyths toy store opening had brought Farnborough town centre to a grinding halt. Thankfully we couldn't say the same for the Uxbridgers and our promotion hopes.


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