.......... Help..... Help..... Someone let me out!! Kev?!? GARBO!!! I'M LOCKED IN!!
I'm writing this, shivering in the top left corner of the PRE. The last thing i can remember is Curo lobbing the ball over the advancing ballbag guardian for the Aylesbury Ducks, Cameltoe, and onto the roof of the net, only to be flagged offside anyway. It would appear i then slipped into a coma. I can't even blame it on the copious amounts of fried food from the F.A.S.T hut, i passed on the free burger and chips, saving myself for the wife's seafood platter, but here i am with 327 missed calls and my left arse cheek has gone to sleep.
If my recollection serves me, hopes were high going into the game, Hanwell given a right royal going over by a big Cox last time out, smashing it in three times, and Perry even had a quick stab at them too.
And low and beholden, within 120 seconds, The Hoffen had out muscled a defender three foot taller and 5 stone heavier than him, turned him like a weak willed Maggie Thatcher, and buried it at the near post. 1-0 Boro and it looked like the goal difference would get a boost of the like last seen being dunked into my half time cup of tea at Fleet Town.
Aylesbury United were primed and ready for an orange to be shoved up their arses.
They were ready to be shredded and served up with some cucumber and spring onion.
Alas, that was as exciting as it got. The delivery man came earlier than expected and frankly, it was a bit of a..... well..... lame............ I'll let you finish that one.
If anything, it could have been a completely different Duck Tale, as instead of Ayles-burying them, the United of Buckinghamshire rallied and took the game to Boro and had a couple of sights at goal, but their shooting was as accurate as a pissed up poacher and the defence was as tight as.........Scrooge.
Well, for about 15 minutes they did. I think. I found this really funny video of an Australian farmer talking to his sheep, and one was called Kevin, and he kept calling him a cunt ha ha ha.
Anyway, the long and short of it, or The Butcher and The Hoffen as we like to call them, weren't quite firing on all cylinders, so it was time for the arrival of the legend, the myth, the diminutive banger in of ballbag bulgers, Jamie "Curo, Curo" Cureton. Huzzah.
He replaced Mixu with about 20 minutes left. Ish. Maybe more, maybe less, to be honest I'd been trying to remove a large lump of chewing gum from my shoe, and the top of the seat in front of me just wasn't doing the job.
On the plus side, with El capitan, CJ "Pammy" Fearn on the sidelines with a knock, the defence held out with a plomb, Keith "Reggie" Emmerson back in his position of (the Boro Walk's) choice at left back was in his most imperious form for a while, generally used as the utility man, Reg the Ledge is at his best giving no quarter to the prick at right wing and going on one of his trademark barraging runs into the enemies half.
In truth, we had their ducks in a row, and we failed to finish them off, although in the last ten we had them on the ropes, tied round their flippers, and hung them out to dry for target practice. Unfortunately, the combo of little and little didn't quite put the finishing touches to the score, their Ho-Sin was the final ball.
End of the day, when all's said and done, when the whistle blows, we've won a game of footy, huzzah. Playoffs in the bag.
It's frickin freezing out here, Mini Me, but i should really stop talking to my penis. I'm going to go and see if anyone's left in the clubhouse and maybe even get a pint full of Farney's own brew.
Next up is a trip almost as far as the Watford Gap, i think, Bedford maybe, to play a rearranged Tuesday nighter at Kempston Rovers, where we might be able to talk about a whole game of football instead of falling unconscious.
As always, COME ON YOU YELLOWS!
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