 |
| And they're off! (Note the driver's personal bog roll) |
Coach up north for our away game tomorrow. A few supporters at the ground buying tickets as we left this morning - they must be mad, it's fucking freezing and we're bound to get snotted! Still, their choice.
The trip up is the usual, with everyone plugged into their iPods and DVD players. Mucker won fifty notes off me at cards. We're rooming together so I'll rob it back off him later.
The hotel's fucking awful. One of those purple ones Lenny Henry advertises - the boss says he'll have words with the chairman about getting us somewhere better next time, but he won't. He needs to keep his head down. I've heard the chairman's met ++++ ______ a few times now.
Saturday, 27 November
We got absolutely stuffed - the gaffer went berserk at half time and then absolutely fucking meltdown at full time. He was screaming and shouting and a big load of snot flew out of his nose and on his shirt - he just left it there. Kell got a bit on his leg but was too scared to wipe it off. It just sat there, bubbling in time with the boss's fury.
Ellsy got the shite ripped out of him by their full back and never got forward himself - the boss let him have it on that as well. I had to go the toilet I was laughing so much (so I could laugh, I wasn't pissing myself). The only ones who didn't get it were us who didn't get on, and the kitman. Even the physio got a bottle lashed at him in the changies.
The bus home was quiet at first, except for Rog's farts. You've never heard anything like these - really loud, carnival loud - deep and booming, but hardly any smell. Incredible. Quirk of nature I guess.
About an hour into the journey, the captain Stevo stood up and had a word. He's right, we're better than we showed today. Home game on Tuesday's what we have to look to now.
Things lightened up a bit after that, then Ribbsy says we should get the coach to drop us off and go straight to Infernos but I don't fancy it. It's always the same stuff for us, the same faces, the same girls - it's too easy. I'm getting sick of it now. I want something more. I'm not talking about settling down but it would be nice to meet someone I could talk to, someone who could get deep inside - there must be more to me than this?
I want to meet someone who'll tell me when I'm being a nob, someone who calls their mates by their proper names - and doesn't just stick a 'y' on the end. Someone who likes music and isn't caked in make-up. Someone who actually enjoys reading books, who wants to test themselves, push themselves forward, learn new things, embrace change, try different cultures. Someone I can talk to about my feelings, my dreams, my hopes, my fears. I'm swerving it tonight, just Match of the Day and a beer at home. Something's changing in me, I can feel it.
Sunday, 28 November
Went the brasshouse.
Previously:
Part 3
Part 2
Part 1
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