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Post by Deleted on Sept 18, 2014 19:27:25 GMT
The damage is done inside my cranium when we get beaten. Every time! I am a very bad loser, end of!
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Post by CalgaryPotter on Sept 19, 2014 5:03:24 GMT
Many scrapes over the years but in terms of real damage, probably pissing best part of $4,000 up the wall to spend 4 days back in England to watch a lacklustre effort in what should have been our greatest day, the FA Cup final.
I couldn't have missed it for the world but Christ I wish the team had have followed all the Expats & turned up!!!
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Post by Deleted on Sept 19, 2014 6:29:24 GMT
After losing 1-0 at home to QPR a few seasons back decided to drown my sorrows. Drown them I did, enough so thay I decided to walk home in a state in a pea soup of a foggy night. My homing pidgeon senses left me that night and got completely lost. Ended up wandering the country lanes out of Forsbrook. During this wandering I was struck by a car of which I ended up in a&e with a shattered leg....I fucking hate QPR
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Post by Kingswaystokie on Sept 19, 2014 14:38:17 GMT
Made me remember a story from a long time ago, we were still at the Vic, it was a Friday in the middle of winter and very frosty, we were at home to somebody ( I can't remember who ) the following day and because of the weather a pitch inspection was due in the morning.
I was down at the local on the Friday night and came home rather the worse for wear, I decided to conduct my own pitch inspection in the back garden, so after collecting my lads football out of the garage went out onto our back lawn in the pitch dark to kick the ball about. The grass was rock solid and whilst attempting a Matthews deft dribble and body swerve went arse over tit head first into a rather large rose bush. At the time it didn't seem too bad, probably as a gallon of draught bass was considered a pretty good anesthetic.
The next morning I woke up and my good lady took one look at me, I looked like I had done 10 rounds with Muhammad Ali plus my pillow was completely covered in blood, she asked for an explanation. As some of you are no doubt aware one's memory is somewhat faded at this time, you get that horrible brick in the stomach, knowing your were well pissed the night before also knowing you must have done something completely out of order but failing to exactly remember what it was. Eventually I started to remember, glad it wasn't something like twatting the car up a wall, but just being a complete and utter knobhead.
It seemed at the time a perfectly sensible thing to do, I was looking just looking forward to the match, needless to say the game was called off so it was a boring Saturday with no nogger and a wife who thought she was married to a complete and utter nutcase.
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Post by smokeontrent on Sept 19, 2014 15:08:14 GMT
I'm sorry to provoke any bad memories for anyone that was there, but Stenhousemuir. That's all I'm prepared to say.
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