Getting closer and closer to day 1000 When that unfortunate day arrives i think everyone on this forum should give 3blokes a like Furthermore we should all buy him a pint. I know i will
Getting closer and closer to day 1000 When that unfortunate day arrives i think everyone on this forum should give 3blokes a like Furthermore we should all buy him a pint. I know i will
I am particularly keen on that last sentence
Roland sells the club on the 999th day, 23rd hour just to stop the drinks coming in, the grumpy old c*nt.
I have a dream, that one day we will be free of this invasive interloper. I may not live to see this day, but i hope my children or their children can one day return to the Poundland stadium where Boycotters return and are welcome like the return of the prodigal son. I have a dream......
Day 974 and 975. Today the Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever is in a mood of anticipation in his shed. He is waiting for a phone call from the training ground where they have been testing his revolutionary new medical product. The brilliant idea had come to him the week before over a caramel latte and hob nob. ( stats compiled by a 10 year old who emailed Our Saviour by mistake prove that Visionaries are more likely to come up with their incredible ideas over hob nob biscuits rather than amaretto biscuits. Weird huh.) The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever had then imagined something remarkable where no other mortal could. It was simple genius in a world of tedious tiny ant people. It was this ability to "see past the latte" that made him such a fucking Visionary. Finally the club physio comes to the phone. "So have you used it?" asks the Best Owner eagerly. "No." replies the physio. " NO??!!! NO??!! WHY THE FUCK NOT!!" fumes the Best Owner " I send you a brilliant solution to all our injury problems and you say you haven't even used it!!?? Why ever not, you twat?!!" " Because your visionary new product is just duck tape." replies the physio. " It's not Duck tape. It's Duch -tape! ( easy, Stig ) it's pronounced Dooosh - tape!" yells The best Owner. " I don't care how you bloody pronounce it!" yells the physio. "You can't fix cruciate ligaments, calf strains or pulled hamstrings with a roll of fucking duck tape you moron!" "Well Have you tried it on Cashew yet?" "What?" That injured player, you should bloody know him! " You mean Kashi, don't you? " " That's what I said!" " I'm putting the phone down. " "Wrap my Duch-tape round his leg, it will be as good as new!" shouts Our Saviour. "Goodbye." " Try my Duch -tape!! I COMMAND YOU!" yells the Best Owner down the phone. There is a click at the other end. Now it is never a nice scene when a man starts jumping up and down on his amaretto biscuit and screaming in his shed, so let's leave The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever to his own inner turmoil, and maybe we should all go and have a nice cup of coffee ourselves. For a change. And have whatever biscuits you like. Garibaldi, amaretto, bourbon, whatever you fancy... Because he's still here. Oh FUCK.....
Day 976. As we are nearing the 1000 day landmark, I thought I would include a little countdown of my favourite moments when Roly has attended games at The Valley. No 25 - when we scored against Reading and he threw his pulled pork bun into the air in delight. He's still here. Oh fuck......
Day 977. No 24 - when he ...er..... He's still here. Oh fuck...
Watched a match on his laptop?
Remember that.
I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when reading the statement he wrote on the OS.
Was in a group, laughing my bollocks off and everyone around me politely left me alone as I dived straight to charltonlife to read the discussion surrounding it.
So If Roland Is our father; and We are his children; does that make Daisy, the wicked step-Mother ? Or just Miss Trunchball ! When i first saw our CEO in a short leather skirt a couple of summers ago i thought see was going to be Miss Honey. Matilda do your Magic, and make them both disappear. oh fuck.......
( Bit of a long one this morning to kick off the "celebrations" as we near the landmark day. And no long ramble next week as I will be off out to buy a party hat )
Day 981 and 982. Today we are going to dip into a parallel universe to look at an alternative future that is out there somewhere. ( possibly - please see The Multiverse Theory - Football Edition ) It is 8.30am and The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever is sitting quietly on his own in a seat in the West Stand with a cup of coffee. He loves to just sit there quietly before a home game and simply take in the sense of history and atmosphere of the empty old ground for a few minutes. Before the momentum towards the 3.00 kick off starts to build. It is his ground, his club. His, but not his. Because he understands it is about more than one man's ownership, he knows he is only the current custodian, this place belongs to all those who have gone before, and to those who will grace it when he has long left this mortal coil. It is rather chilly in the cold September sunshine, but he hardly feels it. Sitting there always makes him feel a little more alive, as he dunks his little amaretto biscuit in his coffee and smiles. Getting the club back to the Premier League was one of the greatest joys of his entire life. When he had bought the club he had not realised how this success was going to make him feel, that it would be greater than almost anything else he had ever experienced in his 69 years. Seeing the crowd round him going bananas as promotion was achieved, going down onto the pitch to congratulate Chris Powell and the players, hearing the fans chant his name, ROLAND, ROLAND, YOU'RE LOVELY! to the tune of Clive Dunn's Grandad, he had felt that he truly belonged to something for the first time in his life. And the fans? Well they loved him and he, in turn, loved them back. They were the lifeblood of the club, a generous bunch and he respected and admired them for their passion and ability to live, love, laugh and be happy, a club slogan he now completely adopted as the way to lead his own life. Of course, there was always the odd voice of dissent in any crowd ( what on earth had he done to that chap Colin1961, he wondered, to make him hate him SO much?) but he took it all in good humour, after all, you can't please everyone, can you? He had discovered he could be himself with these people, he could be truthful and open, and enjoy the engaging camaraderie of football support that always lifted the spirit, win lose or draw. His family had said that since he had taken over the club he had looked and seemed younger. A man refreshed. A man renewed. And he was pleased and touched to hear that on a message board they were counting up the days to celebrate a 1000 days of his ownership of the club, with fans listing their own anecdotes about him since he had taken over :
"Roly popping into the Oak before the Burnley game to chat to fellow supporters and then he did the old pretend walking down the stairs trick behind a sofa shouting: " Don't worry I'll change the barrel while I'm down here!" Then he bought about 20 of us a drink. A really great bloke."
"Messing about like he does, at half time v Bolton when he did his 15 minute impersonation of a garden gnome sitting with a fishing rod in the directors' box, much to the amusement of the West Stand supporters and fellow directors around him. Classic Roly."
" When it was revealed he was Harvey the mascot for the game v Bournemouth."
" When Yann gave him a piggy back across the Wembley pitch, to celebrate with the fans after that winning goal."
" When asked about developing the East Stand, he got out a roll of duck tape and said 'let's make a start now, I got a load of this bloody stuff in my boot!"
"His tears of laughter at Thuram's antics when he booked him to do his comedy goalkeeper routine at half time. At one point Roly was laughing so much he had to get his hankie out!"
"When he poised for press photos outside the ground v Boro whilst he pretended to be taking a playful swipe at Airman on the corner, who had joined in the spoof Roland Out campaign. He even did his Ali shuffle, much to Rick's amusement."
"Posing with fans and he held up a banner saying Roland Out! A really good laugh. He's one of us"
" The tears in his eyes as he embraced Powelly when we clinched it. The man CARES"
" Simply the best owner of a football club. EVER."
Let us now drift back slowly to our own universe, to the world of Daisy, empty platitudes, contracts to get your season ticket, League One, team selection by numbers and an owner of a great club who just doesn't get it, and never will. And he's still HERE. Oh FUCK........
Comments
He's still here.
Oh fuck.....
I may not live to see this day, but i hope my children or their children can one day return to the Poundland stadium where Boycotters return and are welcome like the return of the prodigal son.
I have a dream......
The nightmeire continues for now.
Oh fuck......
Like some awful relative round your house who won't go home, he's still here.
Oh fuck...
If you need an official reason to step out, just stick the dog in the boot and say your taking him for a walk.
We are his children.
What's the childline Phone number.
Esther Rantzen, We need you.
That's Life !
Day 971.
He's still here.
Oh fuck....
He's still here. ( and I don't mean Lookman
Oh fuck......
No never mind.
I'm happy to set up a standing order for £1 a day that gets opened up when eventually our less than glorious owner finally gives up and leaves.
Hope it won't have much money in it.
Oh fuck.
He's still here.
Oh fuck.....
Today the Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever is in a mood of anticipation in his shed.
He is waiting for a phone call from the training ground where they have been testing his revolutionary new medical product.
The brilliant idea had come to him the week before over a caramel latte and hob nob. ( stats compiled by a 10 year old who emailed Our Saviour by mistake prove that Visionaries are more likely to come up with their incredible ideas over hob nob biscuits rather than amaretto biscuits. Weird huh.)
The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever had then imagined something remarkable where no other mortal could. It was simple genius in a world of tedious tiny ant people. It was this ability to "see past the latte" that made him such a fucking Visionary.
Finally the club physio comes to the phone.
"So have you used it?" asks the Best Owner eagerly.
"No." replies the physio.
" NO??!!! NO??!! WHY THE FUCK NOT!!" fumes the Best Owner " I send you a brilliant solution to all our injury problems and you say you haven't even used it!!?? Why ever not, you twat?!!"
" Because your visionary new product is just duck tape." replies the physio.
" It's not Duck tape. It's Duch -tape! ( easy, Stig
" I don't care how you bloody pronounce it!" yells the physio. "You can't fix cruciate ligaments, calf strains or pulled hamstrings with a roll of fucking duck tape you moron!"
"Well Have you tried it on Cashew yet?"
"What?"
That injured player, you should bloody know him! "
You mean Kashi, don't you? "
" That's what I said!"
" I'm putting the phone down. "
"Wrap my Duch-tape round his leg, it will be as good as new!" shouts Our Saviour.
"Goodbye."
" Try my Duch -tape!! I COMMAND YOU!" yells the Best Owner down the phone.
There is a click at the other end.
Now it is never a nice scene when a man starts jumping up and down on his amaretto biscuit and screaming in his shed, so let's leave The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever to his own inner turmoil, and maybe we should all go and have a nice cup of coffee ourselves.
For a change.
And have whatever biscuits you like. Garibaldi, amaretto, bourbon, whatever you fancy...
Because he's still here.
Oh FUCK.....
When is this Monsoon weather every going to end ?
Oh fuck.......
As we are nearing the 1000 day landmark, I thought I would include a little countdown of my favourite moments when Roly has attended games at The Valley.
No 25 - when we scored against Reading and he threw his pulled pork bun into the air in delight.
He's still here.
Oh fuck......
No 24 - when he ...er.....
He's still here.
Oh fuck...
Remember that.
I remember exactly where I was and what I was doing when reading the statement he wrote on the OS.
Was in a group, laughing my bollocks off and everyone around me politely left me alone as I dived straight to charltonlife to read the discussion surrounding it.
23....
He's still here.
Oh fuck....
22.. when he......er......
He's still here like measles.
Oh fuck...
21. That time when he.....er.....
He's still here.
Oh fuck.......
and We are his children;
does that make Daisy, the wicked step-Mother ?
Or just Miss Trunchball !
When i first saw our CEO in a short leather skirt a couple of summers ago i thought see was going to be Miss Honey.
Matilda do your Magic,
and make them both disappear.
oh fuck.......
Day 981 and 982.
Today we are going to dip into a parallel universe to look at an alternative future that is out there somewhere. ( possibly - please see The Multiverse Theory - Football Edition )
It is 8.30am and The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever is sitting quietly on his own in a seat in the West Stand with a cup of coffee.
He loves to just sit there quietly before a home game and simply take in the sense of history and atmosphere of the empty old ground for a few minutes. Before the momentum towards the 3.00 kick off starts to build.
It is his ground, his club. His, but not his. Because he understands it is about more than one man's ownership, he knows he is only the current custodian, this place belongs to all those who have gone before, and to those who will grace it when he has long left this mortal coil.
It is rather chilly in the cold September sunshine, but he hardly feels it. Sitting there always makes him feel a little more alive, as he dunks his little amaretto biscuit in his coffee and smiles.
Getting the club back to the Premier League was one of the greatest joys of his entire life.
When he had bought the club he had not realised how this success was going to make him feel, that it would be greater than almost anything else he had ever experienced in his 69 years. Seeing the crowd round him going bananas as promotion was achieved, going down onto the pitch to congratulate Chris Powell and the players, hearing the fans chant his name, ROLAND, ROLAND, YOU'RE LOVELY! to the tune of Clive Dunn's Grandad, he had felt that he truly belonged to something for the first time in his life.
And the fans? Well they loved him and he, in turn, loved them back.
They were the lifeblood of the club, a generous bunch and he respected and admired them for their passion and ability to live, love, laugh and be happy, a club slogan he now completely adopted as the way to lead his own life.
Of course, there was always the odd voice of dissent in any crowd ( what on earth had he done to that chap Colin1961, he wondered, to make him hate him SO much?) but he took it all in good humour, after all, you can't please everyone, can you?
He had discovered he could be himself with these people, he could be truthful and open, and enjoy the engaging camaraderie of football support that always lifted the spirit, win lose or draw.
His family had said that since he had taken over the club he had looked and seemed younger.
A man refreshed. A man renewed.
And he was pleased and touched to hear that on a message board they were counting up the days to celebrate a 1000 days of his ownership of the club, with fans listing their own anecdotes about him since he had taken over :
"Roly popping into the Oak before the Burnley game to chat to fellow supporters and then he did the old pretend walking down the stairs trick behind a sofa shouting:
" Don't worry I'll change the barrel while I'm down here!"
Then he bought about 20 of us a drink. A really great bloke."
"Messing about like he does, at half time v Bolton when he did his 15 minute impersonation of a garden gnome sitting with a fishing rod in the directors' box, much to the amusement of the West Stand supporters and fellow directors around him.
Classic Roly."
" When it was revealed he was Harvey the mascot for the game v Bournemouth."
" When Yann gave him a piggy back across the Wembley pitch, to celebrate with the fans after that winning goal."
" When asked about developing the East Stand, he got out a roll of duck tape and said 'let's make a start now, I got a load of this bloody stuff in my boot!"
"His tears of laughter at Thuram's antics when he booked him to do his comedy goalkeeper routine at half time. At one point Roly was laughing so much he had to get his hankie out!"
"When he poised for press photos outside the ground v Boro whilst he pretended to be taking a playful swipe at Airman on the corner, who had joined in the spoof Roland Out campaign. He even did his Ali shuffle, much to Rick's amusement."
"Posing with fans and he held up a banner saying Roland Out! A really good laugh. He's one of us"
" The tears in his eyes as he embraced Powelly when we clinched it. The man CARES"
" Simply the best owner of a football club. EVER."
Let us now drift back slowly to our own universe, to the world of Daisy, empty platitudes, contracts to get your season ticket, League One, team selection by numbers and an owner of a great club who just doesn't get it, and never will.
And he's still HERE.
Oh FUCK........