|Press day. 'Very much so.'|
Training was murder today, no ball work just running and weights (separately) because we're all 'streaks of piss' apparently.
Atmosphere was a bit low, even Stibbo sitting in a plate of pasta after Mucker put it on his chair didn't get much of a laugh. Rog tried to lighten the mood with one of his big bertha farts but no one was interested. He's such a trouper.
Press day ahead of tomorrow's match but no one turned up again. If it's not the Premier League the nationals aren't interested and the locals all go to press on Wednesday, so it was just the boss and Phil, the press officer, sat there looking at each other. They have to give it 10 minutes before giving up so they just sit there. It's painful to watch.
Then Phil has to interview the gaffer for the club website. Phil's a nice bloke but the gaffer keeps calling him Pete. And he's been doing it too long for Phil to say anything now. When you watch the vidos you've got the boss, when he isn't saying 'the football club' every 20 seconds, calling this bloke by the wrong name while he just takes it.
Jegger's birthday today and he's going round everyone to see if they fancy doing anything. Sure enough he ends up at me. I say I fancy staying in but he says just come round and play Fifa. He's only just moved here so it must be hard not knowing anyone, probably just doesn't want to be alone on his birthday.
Weather forecast is for snow tomorrow - if it keeps up and Saturday's match is off, Mucker, Ribbsy and Johnno are on about going to New York for the weekend. I fancy it but I'm a bit skint - do hospitals still buy sperm?
I haven't had a shit in three days.