After a busy few months at work, I now have a much welcomed week off.
A visit to Nandos with friends tonight followed by a Bath City away game tomorrow with Claire seems a great way to start my break.
What’s wrong with this country? A woman puts a cat in the bin, receives death threats and the media continues to print her personal details. Yet convicted sex offenders receive anonymity.
Following last nights visit to the ground, I have conducted a list…
– Their stewards don’t let you take cameras into the stadium. Get a grip! It’s a non-league football ground, not Area 51! Let the fans take photos of each other enjoying themselves. As I’m a rebel, I ignored the stewards’ request and took photos anyway… at fulltime, when I was leaving anyway. I’m such a bad ass.
– Their manager, a rather large Steve Evans, spent the whole match pacing up and down the touchline, shouting abuse at the Bath City players, his own players, the referee and just about anything else that holds an existence on the planet. His bad manners and girth were so great, they made Sam Allardyce look like Ghandi.
– I’ve seen a lot of embarrassing half time pleas for support at football games. Delia Smith’s infamous rant in 2005 being one of these. I also remember someone grabbing the microphone at Truro City and singing Eye of the Tiger during the break. Last night, Crawley’s tannoy bloke surpassed all of these on the cringeworthy-scale. At half time, with the home side winning 2-0, a booming south east accent came thundering through the speakers. “THERE’S AN OLD MAN THAT LIVES BEHIND THE STADIUM AND HAS MADE A COMPLAINT!” the Bath City fans stared at each other, stunned “HE SAYS THERES TOO MUCH NOISE GOING ON AND WE NEED TO QUIETEN DOWN!” at this point, even the Crawley fans were embarrassed. “SO LET’S MAKE THE OLD GIT EVEN MORE ANNOYED AND MAKE SOME NOOOOISSSSEEEE!” I was embarrassed for them.
– Crawley Town seem to have found a lot of pennies somewhere underneath the sofa and have been spending lots of money on new players. Never has a song “went for the money” been more appropriate *. One of the non-league prima donnas, Sergio Torres, acted like a typical overpaid footballer and dived for a penalty. Cheat. The game ended 2-1. Had the stolen penalty not been awarded, Bath City would have drawn the match.
* Fair play to their goalkeeper, though. When asked by the travelling Bath City supporters how much he was being paid, he replied, grinning, “a lot!”
– The journey home. OK, not exactly the fault of Crawley Town Football Club, but as we’re having a moan, I may as well blame them for this too. As we came into Bath at 00:40, police stopped the coach. London Road had been closed following an accident and we had to take a huge diversion to Lansdown. I was not in my bed until 1.30am. Never was I more pleased that I had taken today off work as annual leave.
There are other reasons to dislike the club, but it is past my bedtime and unfortunately I have work in the morning. To find out the other 96 reasons, visit the football club yourself. However, I will not be held responsible for any emotional distress or loss of life caused during your visit. Oh, and don’t bring your camera… unless you’re proper hardcore, like me.
I finished work early today. I will shortly be getting the Bath City Supporter’s coach to Crawley. No, I haven’t heard of it either. At first I thought it was something to do with a caterpillar or some other bug with lots of legs. It is, in fact, a real place in the south east of England.
Crawley are one of the better sides in the league and have spent a huge amount of money on players. I think we’ll get beat. Looking at the weather, it appears I’ll be getting wet too. Not only that, I probably won’t get home until very late. I don’t really know why I’m bothering to go at all.
Luckily I have tomorrow off work, so can recover from the experience of sleep deprivation, getting soaked and witnessing my team get beat 6-0.
Something I forgot to mention in recent blogs, which has been plaguing me these last few days…
Last Friday, I had an unexpected, yet all the same distressing, experience with a spider.
This one was not as big as some of its brothers, which have invaded my flat in recent years. If my memory serves me correctly, Friday’s eight-legged fiend was only the size of a dinner plate – a tiddler in comparison.
The intruder was dealt with in the usual manner – a quick spray from my trusty spider killer. It ran under the TV cabinet and hasn’t been seen since. I can only assume it has died, unless it is living there now, slowly bulking itself up and learning martial arts, like Uma Thurman in Kill Bill, with a plan to one day come out and violently attack me.
More disturbing than the actual spider was what it appeared to shit after being sprayed. Left on my living room carpet was a baby spider. I always thought spiders hatched from eggs like the face huggers in Alien, not respawn into babies after being killed.
I just hope Mummy Spider hasn’t left more babies in my flat, as I will be in real trouble when they inevitably form an arachnid army and attack me, along with the ‘Uma Thurman Mummy Spider’.
On this website, you’ll find me blogging (almost) daily about everyday life, living in Bath, working with computers, and the occasional bit of football stuff thrown in.
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