Oh woe oh woe, tis a tragedy master, I say tis a tragedy. Woe, woe and thrice woe. Woe dipped in liquidised dog shite thrown at an orphan such is the woe. Nil from four, the Vale are doomed, and woe rests heavy on the shoulders of all.
Oh toe, oh toe, why can’t you score, some more, goals galore?
Oh BO, Laan smells so bad, its not a fad, he smells like a tad, pole that’s died and gone rotten in a hole.
Its not good. Things must change. And it’s the intergalactic away fixture on planet Sootikins vs the bold crew of the Starship Loom and Shuttle. Beam me up Gingere, set your phasers to goal.
Good looking side with a return from Rick, strength and height at the back with Twinkles and Sharmy, Dan has had plastic surgery and a zip implanted to ensure no arguing with Camo, Matt back in the middle, but T Bear, Geri and Geri Reli all a no show.
So the sides OK, but the changing rooms are locked. Pete and Dan scamper up the road to have a poo, and catch Lil Vic in mid action at Chez Brothwell – in her PE kit about to start the Davina McCall excercisathon video. How are you doin…
And the pitch – oh nice. Grass uncut for 2 years, looking similar to flopsy’s hair, and although it looks luscious and flat there are a few dips and undulations underneath the heady green minge bush, also reports of a couple of landmines planted last season to halt the invasion of Franche.
And its off, the Vale are out of the blocks in their usual fashion, no one looks too sure about what to do, or where they are – maybe it’s the methanogenous Sootikins atmosphere which is causing problems. 5 minutes in and it’s a goal to the Shuttleonians. Darn. Whhoooooaoaososoooo, that was like I’ve seen it happen before, the Vale go 1-0 down in the first 10 minutes…..wow, I’ve got to cut back on the class A narcotics and pink milk. Talking of pink, why has that scrawny lad got a pink T shirt on under his footy strip on this balmy September morn? Is there a truer sign of homoness in this modern democracy we live in?
Some stuff happened. Then twas 2-0. Crap crap crap. Its like trying to ask a man who’s been starved close to death to pull himself together and put some bally effort in…stop just lying there...come on…..oh give up then, go on, is that it? All you can do is lie in the floor sobbing? What’s that? He’s had all his bones surgically removed by the man that operated on Wolverine in X Men? Ahh, he needs some bananas. Here, peel the end back, bit of juice, get your apple pips round that my son….
Another surge from Shuttle, here we go, go on then, slot it BOOMSHAKAKIYAA Tim has deep throated the mystical nana and pulls off an interplanetary tackle from the 5th nebuli worthy of a thrusting spunk rocket and suddenly the heads lift. Wait…adrenelin begins to secrete into Vale bloodstreams, they fill their collective lungs, hairs bristle, shirts strain at the seems as the side seems to transform…if only this report could have the Rocky training music running in the background…I know, you, start humming it now…start quietly, that’s it, duh dhu duh duh d-duh duuuh duh duh now lift it, build it, feel the excitement hey, OK here it goes into the main section….
And its off, Sharmy’s winning everything, Pete start’s to chase those pointless Dan balls down the left wing, Matt turns into half dog beast and starts rounding up the midfielders, oh this is better, keep humming the music, da daa daaa, that’s it, Chuff has remembered some age old make my brother fall over in a funny way and make the ground shake spells which lifts the spirits, and its out on the left wing, throw in, Dan fetches it, quickly into Pauls feet, tidy knock back, floated in Laan’s there and its right foot GOAL!!! The flamingo! Look how funny he looks! Yeehaa!
And Matt’s on the rampage, raaah, fouled, win it back, kicked, keep going, dumped, fuck you, this is my ball, this is my day, get off me, why I yadaa here you go Laan…post…ooooo. They’re all scared.
Matt again dribble, kick, dribble, slam, dribble, kapowee, my shins are like a shield of steel, here Laan, try and score this timeGOLA! 2-2. Easy easy.
Half time and feel spry and fresh and lively, come, on come on, lets get it on. Positive words from Gingere.
Here we go. Nice bit of play then darn it they score again. Then the cross the ball and Cam Man aka Ram Man from He Man heads it home. 4-2. Some interesting decisions by the ref left Laan on his knees praying to the footballing gods for a corner. Paul fell over again. Chuff giggled. Laan discussed with a facially challenged Shuttleonian about the aesthetics of his girlfriend.
Then they scored again. Time there for Laan to get boxed in on the edge of the box, twisting and turning try to get the shot off, tackled, Ringo muttered something about ‘Did I leave the oven on?’ and Laan erupted. Frustration see. That’s what comes from losing 5 from 5.
Its official…the Vale suck suck suck yes they suck. What do they need? Bananas! When do they need them – next week against Birch Wanderers!
Yours,
Gobbster
