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Post by Squeekster on Oct 6, 2015 17:39:54 GMT
Being in the boothen end standing in piss in the bogs and klix chewing gum!
God I do miss that walk up them steps out onto the terrace.
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Post by ohbottom on Oct 6, 2015 17:44:29 GMT
Wingers dribbling, you know, mmm?.... Socks rolled down, Man's game isn't it?..... SPANGLES, opal fruits, blackjacks and fruit salads, marvellous, mmm..... Burgers out of a tin with greeny-brown onions, luvly isn't it...... The boy Linekar, always shoots low you know, marvellous.....SWEEPERS, fancy-dan foreign nonsense.....
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Post by lastoftheldk on Oct 6, 2015 17:52:04 GMT
This is great stuff people. Thanks for posting. Keep it coming This is England 90 (which is being discussed on EE). Which I watched for the first time last night, is a good barometer of those times. Bye the way I was there for that Norwich game,it was a night match, pissin inclement weather and Norwich bought one coach load. Think it just creeps in to the eighties
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Post by PotterLog on Oct 6, 2015 17:59:56 GMT
See my sig pic for photographic documentation...
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Post by Mcdanger on Oct 6, 2015 18:03:34 GMT
The old man trying to find a parking spot in the terraced streets around the ground, walking up the steps at the back of the Boothen and seeing the greeness of the grass, the smell, squinting my eyes every time we were attacking for a whole season cos i did it once and we scored!! (I was young). The 'look out Huddy's back' banner draped from the Butler Street seats...'Tiiiiiinaaaaa' (Shilton)....too many memories to mention...loved the Vic and still miss it....Was there for Norwich..84-85 holocaust season...
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Post by ohbottom on Oct 6, 2015 18:04:42 GMT
Have you been on the cider Joe? I don't ever remember us cheering because Vale were winning! I certainly do. 82/83. Nobody admits it but it deffo happened. There was no nastiness between us until they got good! It definitely did. Going further back there were plenty of Stoke supporters who went Vale when Stoke were away. I even did it myself once
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Post by Skankmonkey on Oct 6, 2015 18:17:41 GMT
I certainly do. 82/83. Nobody admits it but it deffo happened. There was no nastiness between us until they got good! It definitely did. Going further back there were plenty of Stoke supporters who went Vale when Stoke were away. I even did it myself once Yep. We did indeed on the odd occasion. I can't remember when cheering the Vale result died out. I do know at times though it was "ironic" as opposed to the Crewe one which was genuine. Further back the HT's were put alongside A,B,C... cards along the paddock with a guide in the programme. The vale's was cheered more then.
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tvgc
Spectator
Posts: 24
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Post by tvgc on Oct 6, 2015 20:03:59 GMT
Football was a dark time. After the holocaust season, it was a mix of anger and apathy. Anger and frustration, apathy at what we knew was coming. Years of mid table mediocrity, journeyman, the odd fading talent, but not much to shout about. Being a crowd of mostly younger males, more so for away games, that anger resulted in a lot of unpleasantness. The mindset was of an invading army. Opposing fans weren't shy of obliging. Looking at a few crowd photos of the era will demonstrate the difference in demographics. Football fans weren't really ostracised, it was more like apathy for the sport, from the public unless they were the Daily Mail "outraged" type. Because of the lack of money and media hype, nobody would care if the authorities threatened closure or ID cards or banning away fans. You think you have it bad now, when people complain about the large screen TV or a bit of a cold wind sweeping in from the south. The Johnny Come Lately's and Soccer AM crowd, taking photos of the game with their iPads and gleefully texting when a goal is scored, rooted to their spot, too cold and unemotional to even celebrate and hug a complete stranger. Grounds were cold, barren, windswept places where you'd have to be fairly robust in nature just to put up with the poor infrastructure. Everything seemed to be about fear, oppression, overcoming everything in your path. Northern towns were sinister, dark, unwelcoming places, where a brick on your head or aimed at your coach or van windows was the normal greeting. Southern towns and London were strange unfamiliar territory, surely the home to rascals and enemies on every corner? Not to be trusted, they weren't "us" so anyone was the enemy. This mindset carried us through the 80's into the 90's when huge followings on the back of a taste of success actually became invading armies and destroyed everything in their path. Against the odds of badly controlled police dogs, lines of badly equipped coppers fearful for their safety and more than willing to bash you with a standard sized truncheon that was no more useful than a rotten cucumber and smash you to pieces in the back of a police van. It was often a choice, go to court with charges or take a beating in the van. Easy choice for most lads. No complaining, no lawsuits, just tell the boys in the pub after, have a round bought for you, as much ale as you could drink, and onto the next game with another story to tell. Going to Oldham, with the only refreshments on offer a cold pie and a bovril, was about as good as it got as far as supporter catering was concerned. Maybe a hot dog or burger outside if you were lucky. The only TV in the ground was probably in the Chairman's office. Communication was at a minimum. Walked from the ground checking the results on Ceefax in the TV shop window on London Road. Final results coming in as you grab your first pint after running around the streets for a few minutes harassing the opposition and causing mayhem and fear. More pubs were open and thriving back then, it wasn't unusual to spend the rest of a matchday wandering the pubs seeing the various faces and mingling with an array of scoundrels, hearing their war stories. It seemed like "men were men" back then, a tougher hardened working class, whereas now everyone is an emotional hipster with sensitivities, issues, and "needs". Where have all the real (young) men gone? Walking into a pub was a sea of 6' beer monsters, big men with big appetites and big thirsts, raucous, bawdy, independent, huge shovel-like hands and carrying themselves with an air of menace and intimidation, but friendly and welcoming towards their own. Not fathers at the time, but the fathers of the future. Violence was an ever present at the game, and also socially in a broad sense. You watched your back at all times, senses were switched on to detect threats that could come from any direction at any time at the game or away from it. It seemed like it was the norm to go into town afterwards and maybe hit a nightclub, to witness mobs and groups fighting, throwing bottles, the occasional bottling/glassing was just expected more than shocking. Newcastle in particular used to get visits from stag groups and groups of "lads" coming from surrounding towns and counties. That was guaranteed a good rumble with the locals, and they usually repelled invaders with great satisfaction and with little encouragement required. There seemed to be an overriding sense of insularity, protecting our own, our towns/our city and each other. Nobody on the outside was to be trusted. It seemed to be driven by pride and protection of self and each other. An unfamiliar accent would provoke the thought of what are they after, am I going to get robbed, who do they support, is everything locked up, and is my wallet safe at hand? Are there more of them hanging around? It seemed like society was still on the edge of the industrial era, lots of lads worked in the pots, factories, a few at the mines that were closing by the year as it seemed at the time. Lots of industrial and entry level jobs still available. I don't remember unemployment being a really big thing, it seemed like anyone who wanted work of any sort could find it. Lads usually had money for the football, and beer. In the demographic that went to football, up until 1988 it didn't seem that drugs was socially much of a problem. That started in 87-88 and got worse over time. Prior to that, there wasn't much of a sense of needing to get wrecked at the game, apart from ale and spirits to be consumed at great amount to nullify the effects of the poor product on show at the ground. After 1988 it seemed that it became the norm to get as wrecked as possible on as wide an array of chemicals and concoctions as possible, everything became excess. Being high at the club became getting high at the pub and that translated into a 24/7 mode of being on your game at the match in as bad a state as you could handle. Some of the worst excesses of early 90's violence was fuelled by hard drugs consumed in vast quantities along with gallons of ale to the soundtrack of indie house and acid tracks. Nobody ever captured the feel of that era properly, and if a combination of Trainspotting, Human Traffic, Fear and Loathing in Trent Vegas, and The Firm could be pulled of with a genuine feel and authenticity, it would capture things perfectly. Apart from a minority of psychopaths, of which there were some who excelled in their field, people were attracted to football at that time by the camaraderie, the sense of adventure, overcoming adversary, a good drink, and forming a social connection that didn't exist in any meaningful way anywhere else. There was no glamour in the game, no hype or really measurable way of saying that football was an attractive sport and worth spending your hard earned money to go to watch. A better investment of funds would have been to burn it in a heap. Not to glamourise any of the above, it was what it was. It is part of our history and heritage, whether you agree or disagree with what happened, the fact is that it happened. Argue as much as you like about the good and bad aspects of it, but if you weren't there, you'd find it hard to understand. OS One of the 4,597 V Norwich.
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tvgc
Spectator
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Post by tvgc on Oct 6, 2015 20:07:50 GMT
Fuck me i must be getting old if i can't work out how to quote someone! I meant to say to OldStoke " Excellent post mate"
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Post by Deleted on Oct 6, 2015 20:16:17 GMT
My memories of the 80s are the team for most the decade was shit. After being spoilt watching the team of the mid 70s. Segregation was starting to come in and so some of the places that you took your life in your hands going to could be more easily visited.Eg Spurs,Everton ,Liverpool,The Shit The train network and outside the grounds and town centres was very hostile at most grounds,something you just grew up with. The holocaust season was the pits,crowds decimated apart from the few like me.Norwich at home gulp possibly 4500 crowd. Alsations,pub crawls along the London Road heading for Charlie Browns,the sheaf and the Bull and Bush ,piss stained stinking urinals ,fags,ale ,chatting up birds at every opportuinity. Then the rave and ecstacy years. happy days Football is not the same now Kev all sanitised and expensive, I miss the days at Rotherham, Bury, Crewe breaking down on the way to Brighton and so on mate happy days indeed.
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Post by Deleted on Oct 6, 2015 20:29:48 GMT
Fuck me i must be getting old if i can't work out how to quote someone! I meant to say to OldStoke " Excellent post mate" All good mate, check your PM's.
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Post by kevkj on Oct 6, 2015 20:32:16 GMT
Agreed Franklin football and everything connected to it had an edge back then. It was how it was but times change ,people change . I wouldn't want any of mine involved in that sort of stuff. We had some good times mate didn't we, giggles aplenty at the lower leagues but as I said back then it just seemed normal.
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Post by rawli on Oct 6, 2015 20:34:46 GMT
There was no particular rivalry with Port Vale until the second half of the decade. In 82/83 Port Vale were trying to get promoted from the 4tf to 3rd division. When their score wasn't read out at half time the Boothen End as one sang "What about the Vale?" When the score was read out and Vale were winning it was received with a heart cheer from the home fans. However, when they beat Spurs in 1988 the mood began to change. The 88/89 season saw them going for promotion which would mean for the first time since 1232 we would be on the same division. They did get promoted and the whole mood went became nasty. 1232? Has Mystical Descent got a tapestry that shows the occasion?
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Post by Deleted on Oct 6, 2015 20:35:44 GMT
My memories of the 80s are the team for most the decade was shit. After being spoilt watching the team of the mid 70s. Segregation was starting to come in and so some of the places that you took your life in your hands going to could be more easily visited.Eg Spurs,Everton ,Liverpool,The Shit The train network and outside the grounds and town centres was very hostile at most grounds,something you just grew up with. The holocaust season was the pits,crowds decimated apart from the few like me.Norwich at home gulp possibly 4500 crowd. Alsations,pub crawls along the London Road heading for Charlie Browns,the sheaf and the Bull and Bush ,piss stained stinking urinals ,fags,ale ,chatting up birds at every opportuinity. Then the rave and ecstacy years. happy days that's exactly my thoughts fuck I'm old GD
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Post by Gods on Oct 6, 2015 20:39:25 GMT
The mass evacuation of the back of the Boothen brigade to the Boothen Paddock was a mid 80's thing. There had always been a few Paddock boys doing battle with the like of Spurs and Wolves but they were small in number and at the Boothen End of the Boothen Paddock. But this was something else. You know how you think some things will never change like the Stoke home mob being at the back of the Boothen well one season everyone simply eloped match by match to the Boothen Paddock Stoke End side to be in close proximity with the away fans leaving the back of the Boothen like the Marie Celeste. Everyone basically plonked themselves in this empty space here and it was rammed for a couple of seasons. The atmosphere in there was intoxicating. And that's the biggest difference you know. These days we are consumers of the game and witnesses to the game but back then we were the game or a part of it at least or so we believed.
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Post by rawli on Oct 6, 2015 20:47:58 GMT
Started the decade stood on a wooden box that I carried to the game and holding onto and watching through the metal bars of the Butler St Paddock fence. Ended it as a lanky youth stood with my dad.
Rollercoaster decade doesn't begin to describe it. Remember Chambo's debut and THAT season. Remember fucking POMO. Remember the great escape with Huddy pulling the strings and Maguire hitting 4 against Wolves. Remember the holocaust season and the joy of beating Arsenal and Man Utd. Remember the ignominy of Stoke playing at Oakwell in the league (I'm from Barnsley and I could remember us being 3 leagues apart). Remember the glorious goalfests against Leeds and Carl Saunders' purple spell. Remember fucking Coventry fluking past us in the cup. Remember the late Sentinel that covered you in black ink. Remember ringing the teamtalk line that was Mick Mills on what sounded like and answerphone. Remember Sammy Chungs little dugout.
Absolutely fantastic times.
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Post by kevkj on Oct 6, 2015 20:53:07 GMT
Franklin my abiding memory of you is a Sheff U game at home Block A as usual an an extra strong mint and an referee. Still makes me laugh to this day and a trip home from either Telford or maybe Shrewsbury and the ride home under the influence . ??? Oh and a juke box that paid out like a fruit machine at Rotherham.
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Post by lordherefordsknob on Oct 6, 2015 20:54:02 GMT
That Norwich game is a bit like our Sex Pistols at the lesser free trade Hall in Manchester.
Hardly anybody there but everyone saying they was there.
P.S. I was there:-)
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Post by Deleted on Oct 6, 2015 21:02:19 GMT
Agreed Franklin football and everything connected to it had an edge back then. It was how it was but times change ,people change . I wouldn't want any of mine involved in that sort of stuff. We had some good times mate didn't we, giggles aplenty at the lower leagues but as I said back then it just seemed normal. We did mate they were some of my best times watching Stoke
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Post by brinewings on Oct 6, 2015 21:13:26 GMT
Can’t remember the team we were playing but their goalkeeper had long hair and the boothen kept singing Gippo what’s the score, Gipo Gipo what’s the score (we were winning 2-1) and he turned round and put the V’S up with one hand and the finger up with the other which made everybody piss themselves, the guy got a round of applause, he turned round again and bowed in front of us all. I also remember the first time alcohol was allowed to be sold in football grounds, 95 I think because of the law changing due to us hosting EURO96. That was v Grimsby, I remember him as clear as day turning round and doing that. We played them loads of times in succession and the boothern end had a soft spot for him by the end.
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Post by CalgaryPotter on Oct 6, 2015 21:26:36 GMT
Football was a dark time. After the holocaust season, it was a mix of anger and apathy. Anger and frustration, apathy at what we knew was coming. Years of mid table mediocrity, journeyman, the odd fading talent, but not much to shout about. Being a crowd of mostly younger males, more so for away games, that anger resulted in a lot of unpleasantness. The mindset was of an invading army. Opposing fans weren't shy of obliging. Looking at a few crowd photos of the era will demonstrate the difference in demographics. Football fans weren't really ostracised, it was more like apathy for the sport, from the public unless they were the Daily Mail "outraged" type. Because of the lack of money and media hype, nobody would care if the authorities threatened closure or ID cards or banning away fans. You think you have it bad now, when people complain about the large screen TV or a bit of a cold wind sweeping in from the south. The Johnny Come Lately's and Soccer AM crowd, taking photos of the game with their iPads and gleefully texting when a goal is scored, rooted to their spot, too cold and unemotional to even celebrate and hug a complete stranger. Grounds were cold, barren, windswept places where you'd have to be fairly robust in nature just to put up with the poor infrastructure. Everything seemed to be about fear, oppression, overcoming everything in your path. Northern towns were sinister, dark, unwelcoming places, where a brick on your head or aimed at your coach or van windows was the normal greeting. Southern towns and London were strange unfamiliar territory, surely the home to rascals and enemies on every corner? Not to be trusted, they weren't "us" so anyone was the enemy. This mindset carried us through the 80's into the 90's when huge followings on the back of a taste of success actually became invading armies and destroyed everything in their path. Against the odds of badly controlled police dogs, lines of badly equipped coppers fearful for their safety and more than willing to bash you with a standard sized truncheon that was no more useful than a rotten cucumber and smash you to pieces in the back of a police van. It was often a choice, go to court with charges or take a beating in the van. Easy choice for most lads. No complaining, no lawsuits, just tell the boys in the pub after, have a round bought for you, as much ale as you could drink, and onto the next game with another story to tell. Going to Oldham, with the only refreshments on offer a cold pie and a bovril, was about as good as it got as far as supporter catering was concerned. Maybe a hot dog or burger outside if you were lucky. The only TV in the ground was probably in the Chairman's office. Communication was at a minimum. Walked from the ground checking the results on Ceefax in the TV shop window on London Road. Final results coming in as you grab your first pint after running around the streets for a few minutes harassing the opposition and causing mayhem and fear. More pubs were open and thriving back then, it wasn't unusual to spend the rest of a matchday wandering the pubs seeing the various faces and mingling with an array of scoundrels, hearing their war stories. It seemed like "men were men" back then, a tougher hardened working class, whereas now everyone is an emotional hipster with sensitivities, issues, and "needs". Where have all the real (young) men gone? Walking into a pub was a sea of 6' beer monsters, big men with big appetites and big thirsts, raucous, bawdy, independent, huge shovel-like hands and carrying themselves with an air of menace and intimidation, but friendly and welcoming towards their own. Not fathers at the time, but the fathers of the future. Violence was an ever present at the game, and also socially in a broad sense. You watched your back at all times, senses were switched on to detect threats that could come from any direction at any time at the game or away from it. It seemed like it was the norm to go into town afterwards and maybe hit a nightclub, to witness mobs and groups fighting, throwing bottles, the occasional bottling/glassing was just expected more than shocking. Newcastle in particular used to get visits from stag groups and groups of "lads" coming from surrounding towns and counties. That was guaranteed a good rumble with the locals, and they usually repelled invaders with great satisfaction and with little encouragement required. There seemed to be an overriding sense of insularity, protecting our own, our towns/our city and each other. Nobody on the outside was to be trusted. It seemed to be driven by pride and protection of self and each other. An unfamiliar accent would provoke the thought of what are they after, am I going to get robbed, who do they support, is everything locked up, and is my wallet safe at hand? Are there more of them hanging around? It seemed like society was still on the edge of the industrial era, lots of lads worked in the pots, factories, a few at the mines that were closing by the year as it seemed at the time. Lots of industrial and entry level jobs still available. I don't remember unemployment being a really big thing, it seemed like anyone who wanted work of any sort could find it. Lads usually had money for the football, and beer. In the demographic that went to football, up until 1988 it didn't seem that drugs was socially much of a problem. That started in 87-88 and got worse over time. Prior to that, there wasn't much of a sense of needing to get wrecked at the game, apart from ale and spirits to be consumed at great amount to nullify the effects of the poor product on show at the ground. After 1988 it seemed that it became the norm to get as wrecked as possible on as wide an array of chemicals and concoctions as possible, everything became excess. Being high at the club became getting high at the pub and that translated into a 24/7 mode of being on your game at the match in as bad a state as you could handle. Some of the worst excesses of early 90's violence was fuelled by hard drugs consumed in vast quantities along with gallons of ale to the soundtrack of indie house and acid tracks. Nobody ever captured the feel of that era properly, and if a combination of Trainspotting, Human Traffic, Fear and Loathing in Trent Vegas, and The Firm could be pulled of with a genuine feel and authenticity, it would capture things perfectly. Apart from a minority of psychopaths, of which there were some who excelled in their field, people were attracted to football at that time by the camaraderie, the sense of adventure, overcoming adversary, a good drink, and forming a social connection that didn't exist in any meaningful way anywhere else. There was no glamour in the game, no hype or really measurable way of saying that football was an attractive sport and worth spending your hard earned money to go to watch. A better investment of funds would have been to burn it in a heap. Not to glamourise any of the above, it was what it was. It is part of our history and heritage, whether you agree or disagree with what happened, the fact is that it happened. Argue as much as you like about the good and bad aspects of it, but if you weren't there, you'd find it hard to understand. OS One of the 4,597 V Norwich. Post of the year I started going alone in 85 and you've absolutely nailed it. Comradery was key.
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Post by hchpotter on Oct 6, 2015 21:27:10 GMT
How much dog shit was there on the pavements between London Road and the Vic?
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Post by kevkj on Oct 6, 2015 21:31:46 GMT
How much dog shit was there on the pavements between London Road and the Vic? A lot as I was sometimes crawling in it, there was some amount of pubs and clubs between the Black Lion and spoons back then for a pint in each .
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Post by Deleted on Oct 6, 2015 21:34:09 GMT
How much dog shit was there on the pavements between London Road and the Vic? Was it milky white? I think it was.
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Post by marcofstoke on Oct 6, 2015 21:35:23 GMT
Ric Bailey on Radio Stoke, no full commentary in those days It was like...... Last time we checked in on Stoke City about 10 minutes ago it was still 0-0, we'll get an update after we've listened to a song from imagination called music and lights.
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Post by kevkj on Oct 6, 2015 21:38:09 GMT
You had to be there in the 80s and 90s as said if you weren't you would never understand. I loved it and met so many people and had so many laughs.
I love the fact I can go in any pub in Stoke on a matchday and know the majority if only by a nod and a wink.
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Post by lordb on Oct 6, 2015 21:42:53 GMT
I was at the Norwich game too.
I discovered pay mind...
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Post by Deleted on Oct 6, 2015 21:48:38 GMT
You had to be there in the 80s and 90s as said if you weren't you would never understand. I loved it and met so many people and had so many laughs. I love the fact I can go in any pub in Stoke on a matchday and know the majority if only by a nod and a wink. Spot on. So many laughs, so many memories. I didn't get on a Glebe coach til the Rothersthorpe shindig and we all know how that unfolded, unlucky for some (not SCFC). So you are a year or so ahead of me in your timeline, Kev.
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Post by kevkj on Oct 6, 2015 21:56:21 GMT
Luckily or unluckily that was probably the only Glebe trip I wasn't on. Brum, Luton (2) Pompey,Sheff U ,Everton ,Wolves, Villa spring immediately to mind.
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Post by dutchstokie on Oct 6, 2015 21:56:40 GMT
PINK FINULLLLLLL!!!
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