Walham Green & Gumption

Smite my giddy sides, Cottaging colleagues, it’s derby day!

Well, I don’t know about you lot, but I’ve spent most of this festive shebang using an antique monocle that I found in father’s sock drawer to torment the neighbour’s bloodhound. It’s driven the poor thing to distraction it has, what with his lazy eye and all. He’s been thinking he’s on doggy acid or summat. Perfectly ripe entertainment though, despite the unremitting cruelty to one of man’s best friends.

Talking of amusement, today is, not that you need tellin’, the day of our visit to that soulless temple of avarice, that vacuous shrine to retail, bulging with shaven-headed consumer-monkeys. Yes, our mighty black and whiters shall be visiting the old Walham Green Novotel Mega Village.

And now, more than ever, my good chums, is our chance to beat them, what with their catastrophic injury dilemma leaving their squad more threadbare than my 5 year old tufnells. In fact, one wouldn’t be surprised to see the old collection plate being passed around prior to bully-off this afternoon, so on their uppers are they over there.

However, despite the shining superiority of our squad, today is the day when nothing less than gumption is required. Yes, that’s right: gumption.

Mr Cookie will no doubt be ensuring that the sleeves will be rolled up on the shirts that are being played for, that the fellows inside them are men, and that as men they are standing up and being counted. Shifts will be put in all over the pitch.

I’ll be positively chuffed if that turns out to be the case in evidence, but so long as I get to witness some gumption I’ll be as happy as a sparrow in privet, and that’s no fib.

Ole, ole, ole and you know the rest, my gaysexual-friendly chums!

Flamin’ scallions and Up The Fulham!