When last we left you we'd just been on the end of a smash and grab from our old mo'foes from last season, the Royston potato peelers. Never mind, another Day, another dollar. The mild irritation of the Royston result would leave us with an immediate RedItch to scratch. I'm not going into depth on that one, partially because I was half cut and frankly don't remember a lot at the best of times. Suffice to say though, a drab first half of paint drying-esque proportions was compounded by a kamikaze moment of ninja 2 footedness from Liam "Jagger" Stone, right before HT, leaving us a man down, a goal down, a Curo down and right up a paddle-less creek of 100% pure organic shit.
A well deserved "the hoffen" goal got us right back into it and had "Clintons" not fluffed his lines in stoppage time we might have somehow rescued a point. The fact they promptly went up the other end and scored, pissing all over our mini revolution, was neither here nor there really. It's not like the subsequent weekend was a trip to fucking Wales, against a team who'd just won 6-0.... Oh.
None of us went to Wales. It's a long fucking way, the traffic was shit and we had a game 2 days later. Don't fucking judge us. Anyway, a better start on the astroturf was ruined by ANOTHER man sent off, the salmon this time. We've heard that he was unlucky... to be such an angry bellend. The other major point of interest was the video replay appearing to show a ludicrous 1 on 1 where the Easter Bunyan was felled like an Elmer Fudd wet dream, only for the ref to completely bottle the decision. Boro eventually succumbing to all the goals in 3. Fuck it, we've had worse. Onwards.
At this point, we should probably add a paragraph on 'TinyDancerGate' which we exclusively uncovered the night before we marched into Europe....
Let's be completely clear on this. Footballers are ultimately doing a job and are perfectly entitled to try and earn as much as they feel they are worth, when the chances present themselves. That said, why do they have to be such cretinous shitheads about it. We're in step 7 ffs. John, you've brought us some great enjoyment the last couple of seasons, but you can take your gold tooth and shove it up your arse.
So that, rather unsurprisingly, brings us through to Monday just gone. The Reg & BHOLie, The BHOLywood tiny dance-off, the ol' bank holiday banger. A year ago it had been Fleet put to the sword by a heroic 10 men performance in a 7 goal thriller. This year it was the turn of the Slough rebelion to attempt to lay siege to the hallowed turf of the San Cherrio. This was a special one for many Boro fans, of a certain age, as former players Jon "Underpants" Underwood and Neil "The Master" Baker would return for a go in the oppo hot seats. During our recent years, of more unstable boom and bust then a fireworks and silicone implants joint venture, the Slough train has been picking up momentum and almost made their return to the connie south station last season, only falling short in the playoffs. They've got a state of the art ground and all the trimmings, decent crowds and will no doubt be there or thereabouts come the end of the season. Just what the doctor ordered!! (or not, as he was far too fucking busy dealing with our lengthening list of infirms).
Team news: Following Swindon loanee Jake "Good" Evans & Dan "footy focus" Walker in, both signed on 1 month loan deals before we dialled M for Merthyr, the teamsheet for Slough's visit would now also include James "the organ" Hammond and Glen "fister" Southam. Seems we're that fucking desperate for players that Spencer's had to call in favours on players who haven't played in months. But I guess desperate times, desperate measures and all that jazz. We all know Southam, but "the organ" is evidently a RB who's been at Maidenhead. Wonder who he's in for! Oh, and "Mustard" Calcutt was finally back in the starting lineup... how fit would he be?? who knows, we were just hoping he wouldn't get sent off to be honest.
Into the action and, well, calling a spade a spade... we were pretty much a big load of toilet from the off. Their big number 9 was the focal point for a lot of their forays into our final third and he was pulling our backline all over the shop like a subservient husband in the bank holiday sales. Reg had already had to make a couple of key interceptions and head one off the line by the time the visitors got their noses in front just after the 10 minute mark. A corner was sent in deep and our marking was about as effective as a one legged man in an arse kicking contest. Just the shittest type of goal to give away. 0-1
Minutes later we were at it again. The marking somehow getting worse. This time we got lucky and Slough could only spunk their load all over "Chilli" Cairney's wooden erection posts. As Boro continued to look woeful and offer about as much flexibility as Michel Barnier at the Brexit talks, Slough continued to thrive like a right wing agenda at Daily Mail HQ. Take 27 and another corner was floated into the trench and Boro's players, all busy in no mans land, surrendered another ball up for an effort on goal. This time though, "Good" Evans unleashed his evil streak and cleaned the shooter out. The ref, for some reason, decided to give Boro the benefit of the doubt, obviously feeling sorry for us fans at the amount of dogshit marking we were having to stomach.
It took a good half hour for us to make any inroads into the Slough-ber men's area. Some neat interplay on the edge of the box saw "Clintons" played in and, squaring up to the goaly, unleashed a solid daisy cutter which the ballbag protector palmed away. A couple of minutes later and, following some Messi style tekkers from Reg, the ball was "over the topped" into the path of birthday
old man boy "Curonimo" who was frustratingly called offside. These were nothing but a temporary pausing of the narrative though as the next Sloughmans lunch of a chance came as a cross in was once again met by their big no.9 who planted his header right back across "Chilli" and into the bottom corner.... but wait, what is that... IT'S GORDON BANKS COME BACK IN A TIME MACHINE TO SAVE US.... oh no, "Chilli" has just pulled off a fucking worldie of a save to keep the score to 1. Proper bucket hands stuff. A couple of minutes later and super Reg was called back into action as we were ambushed yet again. Another ball into the box and some quick passing ended in the keeper being chipped and Reg doing his one man, solid head show. Never mind though, there was still time for Slough to pillage their way to corner number 87, but this one was hooked over the bar from close range. Somehow we'd made it in at only 1 down. Hopefully the HT teamtalk could involve sending out a search party for our midfield. Oh, and stop whacking it down field!! What a time to be alive. HT 0-1
Sooo into the 2nd half and Boro came out. Could they find that gear and get back into the game? Well yes, they could... sort of. First chance of the half, if we're calling it that, was a classic "Hoffen" chase down and, post badgering the defender, he looped in a cross which caught the ballbag man off guard and the leather came ricocheting off the crossbar. Balls.
Up the other end and the 2nd biggest talking point of the afternoon was about to unfold as another Slough surge resulted in "the organ" chopping down his man like a scrapyard bound totem pole. First off, it looked out of the area, secondly it looked like Reg was covering. BUT of course the ref sees his chance to propel his bizarre agenda into bellend status and so sends "the organ" back to the tuning shop. REALLY?? 3 reds in 3 games??? Jesus wept.
But then that thing happened... you know, when the 10 men decide they'll start playing better because the world is against them. Step up Dan "footy focus" Walker. On his home debut, looking totally out on his feet, he sets out from the half way line on an almost Giggs-esque dribble, leaving around 17 KaiserSloughtown defenders retired in his path. To the bisexual line and an absolute peach of a cross is landed straight on to the head of "the Hoffen" who buries his header deep in the bowels of the ball bag's subconscious. The PRE explodes like a teenage boy at a thong convention. Sweet sweet justice.
The Easter Bunyan was on and had a chance to chest it down and bury us in front... but seemed to be suffering from some sort of hangover which made him unable to remember who he was or what he had been put on that big rectangle of grass for....
Buuuuut that was your lot. Boro continued to defend heroically as Reg (motm by a country mile) and "The Salmon" made goal line clearances and last ditch tackles galore. It looked like it was going to be enough as injury time ticked down. Obviously it would be another sodding corner that was our undoing, a free header down to the corner but thankfully "Curonimo" was on the post to heroically hook it away. But wait, a couple of appeals, as you do, and the linesman gives a goal. Was it a goal? who knows. Was there doubt? Of course there fucking was. He cannot see through players and was guessing, pure and simple. Tit. FT 1-2
So there you have it. A tale of 3 reds, 8 goals conceded, 2 Hoffen strikes and a load of bellend officials. We don't go for all this conspiracy theory bollocks, we've just had a couple of stinkers. We don't need luck, we just need our spine back and fully fit. That's when we'll see this lot getting back to winning ways. Less launching it, more width, better marking at set pieces, win more second balls. Job's a good'un.
On to the FA cup. Just don't anybody say "we're due a run"....