Now Im as optimistic as anyone when it comes to this tw*t of a football club, but after this afternoons latest capitulation its time to wake up and smell the coffee were f*cked. Down. Goners. Non-league. To be honest, I didnt know how it would affect me, its not like it hasnt been coming, but tonight I just feel absolutely deflated. Absolutely f*cking devastated.
I cant
get away from these emotions - I want the whole world to just f*ck off and leave me alone. To help me come to terms with this whole mess, Ive decided to compile a list of everyone and everything I want to f*ck off most of all. For starters, work can f*ck off. If they think Im going to be there on Monday morning theyve got another think coming. No way am I going in to spend time dealing with *unts that I can barely stand being with when Im in a good mood, let alone this crushing feeling of anger, frustration and outright metaphorical-kicked-in-the-b*llocks-ness.
In fact I recall a time, in my youth, when I decided to call in sick at work and instead spent the entire day in my one bedroom flat wearing nothing but my underpants, eating toast and w*nking furiously over second-rate Scandinavian porn. Yet somehow, I still managed to contribute more to my employer in that one Andrex-filled day than you complete bunch of toss-baskets have contributed to this club in your entire time here.
Plastic Premier League fans can f*ck off. I just spoke to my Manchester United supporting neighbour (who incidentally, has been to Old Trafford before twice) about Towns predicament. You know what he said? I know how you feel; its like when we failed to win a trophy in 95. NO IT F*CKING WELL IS NOT!
He no longer has a face.
The girlfriend can definitely f*ck off. Her best attempt at consolation I dont know why youre bothered; you knew they were sh*t anyway. Yes love, but theyre MY sh*t team. Theyve been MINE for pretty much as long as Ive been able to wipe my own *rse, and theyll be MINE for as long as Im alive (or at least, until Im no longer able to wipe my own *rse). Truth is, watching my team win does things for me that no woman can. If push comes to shove and Im horny, I can always have a w*nk.
Barrow can f*ck off. Ive been all over the country and beyond to watch my team, but frankly I just dont have the stomach to visit any town which makes Scunthorpe look like f*cking St. Tropez.
Dad, you can f*ck off. This is your fault. Your idea. You introduced me to this shower of sh*t. Come with me to Blundell Park, you said, Come and support the boys. What could I do? I was f*cking four! What choice did I have? Why not get me hooked on Heroin whilst you were at it? I could have gone with mum shopping for bras and knickers at British Home Stores, but no, you knew best.
Granted, Id have probably grown up a h*m*sexual but surely even being simultaneously b*ggered two guys named Seth and Quentin couldnt hurt like this.
Seeing as were on the subject of homosexuality, Gok Wan can f*ck off. No particular reason, I just plain dont like the annoying, goggle-eyed *unt.
The F.A. can f*ck off. Not for supplying us, week-in, week- out, with inept referee after inept referee, but for imposing sensible financial rules on all clubs in League Two. How many clubs in this division have been into administration this season? Not one. How many points deducted? Not one. How the f*ck else are we supposed to avoid relegation footballing merit? We didnt have to last season, so why spoil the fun now?
The World Cup can f*ck off I dont care anymore.
My local pizza shop can f*ck off. I ordered a 12 Pepperoni over an hour ago, and where the f*ck is it? Are they trying to f*cking fly it to me or something?
Sky Sports can f*ck off. Nothing personal, but therell be little need for me next season with no Town to be found anywhere. Ooh, Bolton versus Wolves, LIVE. I think Ill pass...
The radio can f*ck off. On my way home from the match, whilst driving down the M180, I caught three completely separate stations playing Down by Jay Sean at the exact same f*cking time. The songs the best part of a year old, how the f*ck does that happen by coincidence!?
My nans old lucky Buddha that used to sit in her front room can f*ck off. When I was a kid I held it in my hands and wished for Town to be in the Premier League. I meant the proper one you fat berkshire hunt, not the one occupied by Histon, Eastbourne and for f*cks sake, Ebbsfleet, wherever that is.
Tonight can f*ck off. Ive had enough of trying to cope with my emotions; the time has come for oblivion. I havent kept any booze in the house since an occasion known only as That Night by myself and the missus, but suffice to say that the toilet duck and luminous blue mouthwash are looking like stronger propositions by the minute.
Most of all though, the last 10 years can f*ck off. In that time Ive watched my team fall from the top of the Championship into non-league nothingness. Weve gone from one great big f*ck up to the next without even coming up for air, and today is just the big, f*ck off cherry on top.
One thing Im sure of though is that we WILL be back. When it comes down to it, a football club is basically just a set of supporters, and frankly what Ive learned in the last few years is that this one has some of the best. Weve had to put up with some sh*t, havent we boys, but in spite of all of that the future is still bright its f*cking black and white.
Grimsby til I die..."
A very disillusioned Mariner
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