Day 932 and 933. The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever is not alone in his shed this morning. Today he has been joined by Mrs Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever. And she is not a happy bunny. I'm afraid she's shouting rather. Let's take a moment to listen in : " For God's sake, Roland, stop bloody duct taping everything ! I can't drink another coffee out of a bloody cup with half a roll of bleeding gaffer tape round it! Face it, the cup fell off the work top, Roland. It's fucked. Just throw the bloody thing away and go and buy a new one at Wilco for Christ's sake! It's not as though we are short of a bob or two, is it! One of the £2.50 ticket surcharges will cover it anyway, you prize tit! " The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever shifts a little in his seat. Best not to say anything when she's in one of these "moods". And she continues: "Everywhere I look, there's bloody duct tape! On your shoes, on the bath taps, on the sofa, around the Henry Moore statue in the hall, across the Italian marble mantelpiece, under the kitchen sink, even....in my knicker drawer! And you go and buy a lovely new screen for our indoor cinema and what do you do, when my mother trips over a box of your bloody tape, and headbutts the screen? You put a fucking great strip of tape halfway across the screen! How are we meant to enjoy our morning episode of Quincy when his forensic skills are half covered up by 30cm of brown tape!!! No wonder people bloody hate you!!" She lets out a long sigh. " There's your coffee, anyway." she says with weary resignation, putting down a cup with a gaffer taped handle. The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever stares at it and looks up at his wife. " Have we none of the little amaretto biscuits, Mrs Best Owner Of A Football Ever?" he asks, with his classic Something Of The Night look. His wife gazes back at him. " Oh do fuck off. " she says and leaves, slamming the garden shed. The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever stares after her. What was THAT all about? He sits there thinking. Maybe he needs to put in an order with Lidl for some more biscuits. Maybe even two packs. Yes, that would be a good idea, that would lift her spirits. He smiles to himself as he goes back to counting his 25mm wood nails, yes, he knew his way to a woman's.....what was that thing called?....oh yes....that was it.........heart. He's still here. Oh fuck.........
Day 938. He's still here, the man who knows the price of everything but the value of nothing. One day he will be gone. He's interim. But for now, and just for now........oh fuck.....
Day 939 and 940. This morning, the Best Owner Of a Football Club Ever has been joined by someone else in his shed. It is his "niece", the Angel from SE7. She is watching him as he counts out his 10mm rivets. " Uncle, can I help you count those?" she says, suddenly flashing him that winning ( I love a bit of irony, me) smile that has set stomachs a flutter all over SE7, and launched a thousand shits. "Oh ffs! Was that 487...or 488!!??...." cries our Saviour in frustration "For goodness sake Daisy, never interrupt a count!" "But you weren't saying anything!" replies the Simpering One."Oh.....oh yes.....I see what you mean....anyway, can't I help you do something? I can do lots of things on my own! Lots of things! " The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever gazes at her for a moment. He could still remember a time when she had been just an immature slip of a thing. In the hallway about 20 minutes ago when she had asked to play " shops". Now here she was in his shed. " All right, well, put this box of garden 60mm nails on that shelf over there." he says. His niece beams at him and picks up the box. " Whereabouts do you want it on the shelf?" she says. "Oh, you decide. " says her Uncle. She picks a spot on the shelf, puts the box there and stands back to admire one of the best things she has ever done. " Well, obviously not THERE." says her Uncle, testily. " And NOT there." he says a few seconds later when she moves the box. "NO, NO!!!! WELL DON'T PUT IT THERE, YOU STUPID GIRL!! Right.... Move it back...no, further forward.... NO, NO FURTHER BACK.....now left 2 centimetres...NO THAT'S TOO FAR!! Right...right.....just leave it...leave it......LEAVE IT!!!!" There is a loud crash as the box falls off the shelf. And as he was waving his arm about directing Daisy, The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever has knocked over his cup of coffee. The little amaretto biscuit is on the floor. "FUCK'S SAKE!!" he cries. There is a silence in the shed. Uncle stares at his upturned cup, the duct tape has all come apart. The little amaretto biscuit is completely fucked. He lets out a long sigh. "Whoops!" says Daisy, with a sniggery grin. "You need a new one of those now, don't you, Uncle !" The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever stares at her in disbelief. " Is there anything else you want me to do?" simpers his favourite "niece". He looks at her. " Yes.....yes there is." he replies." Could you open the door for me, please?" His niece beams THAT smile and goes over and opens the door for him eagerly. "Right, could you just step outside for me, for a moment?" he says. Daisy steps outside. "What should I do now, Uncle?" she says eagerly. " Shut the door." replies her Uncle. His niece shuts the door and stands there waiting for her next instruction. "Splendid." says her uncle. And shifts his attention back to his rivets. Simple, classic, inanimate. Thank God that soppy child had gone. And that point it would have been his turn to smile. But he didn't have his fangs in. He's still here. Oh fuck.....
For My sake ? For 3blokes sake ? For every CAFC fans sake ?
Please let Seth Plum be the winner of the 61 million on the Euro lottery, as i believe he is a man of honour and will make good his pledge of becoming the new owner, wiping out our debts, making CAFC fans proud to be associated again with our great club
For My sake ? For 3blokes sake ? For every CAFC fans sake ?
Please let Seth Plum be the winner of the 61 million on the Euro lottery, as i believe he is a man of honour and will make good his pledge of becoming the new owner, wiping out our debts, making CAFC fans proud to be associated again with our great club
Waiting for Seth. Please arrive before Godot.
Someone with integrity who wants to give a community back part of their life. It's not the biggest tragedy in the world at the moment, we all know it, but if you look at the thread where the ex season ticket holders have put in a shift for this club over the years, it is quietly killing dreams and community in SE7. It is an utter disgrace that someone SO remote, SO dispassionate, SO selfish is running this club for his own pathetic needs regardless of the community that has once served it ( and vice versa). Mr. Duchatelet can do what he wants with his money. But not at the expense of a community he does not understand. It is a classic case of money being used as power to demolish the less powerful in the pursuit of more money. Make no mistake, Duchatelet is planning to make money from purchasing CAFC, he does not care HOW he does that, and he does not care one jot for the supporters of this club. I believe we are watching someone who will be quite prepared to destroy the club if he can make a return on it. He doesn't care. That's why I do this count. I am just waiting for the day he is gone. And waiting to see those ex season ticket holders standing in that queue to renew. Keep the faith, and keep chipping away in whatever ways we can, it's all we can do, till he FUCKS OFF....
whilst you all are waiting for him to leave, why not sign up to deaf team's fundraising competition > tinyurl.com/CharltonDeaf <
It is easy to enter and play plus you get a chance to win some cash prize! The deaf players would appreciate it very much if you can support them in any way.
Day 946 and 947 Today The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever is not in his shed. He is in his study. Because today is an important day. It is a fresh start. A new beginning. Time to rectify the problems and mistakes of the past. He is full of expectation and hope. Yes today Our Saviour is taking delivery of two brand new coffee mugs from Lidl. A new coffee experience awaits our Saviour. He almost experiences an emotion as he put the duct tape in the drawer. And now he keeps glancing eagerly out of the study window for the sight of the Lidl van coming up the drive. To help pass the time he decides to put on some music to keep up his high spirits. Out comes Leonard Cohen's Now That's What I Call Misery - and The Best Owner listens contentedly as Leonard belts out "I Should Be So Lucky". But the musical magic is interrupted when his PA pops her head round the door to inform him there is someone from CAFC on the phone for him. Our Saviour frowns. What do they want now? "Hello?"he says, picking up the phone. "Hi, boss, it's me!" The Best Owner inwardly groans. It is Head Ant.....no Head Coach.. That Brussel Slate fellow.....what does he want? "Yes, Slate?" he says, flatly. " Well start of the new season today, boss!" says the voice on the line. "Oh yes," says the Best Owner absently, gazing up the drive. Was that a van? " Any of the signings I asked for coming through yet?" comes the voice down the line. The Best Owner shakes his head. What, did all they think he was fucking made of money or something!!?? "Actually, Slate, I'm just waiting for 2 new mugs to arrive." he replies, impatiently. "We've had quite enough of those in the last two seasons, boss, sorry I want some decent players to compete properly this time !" Comes the reply. The Best Owner stares at the phone in irritation. "Oh...er.... well, we're close to signing....er...er..I dunno ....Pedro...Rivet...." he says vaguely. "Who's he!?" says the Head Ant " He's your new... ...full back." says Our Saviour. "But he wasn't on my list!" " Your point being, Skate?" says Our Saviour. "Well, I don't want some Albanian ten year old with two left feet! I'm trying to run a football team here! I want some PROPER players! And for God's sake, you muppet, it's Slade!! S..L..A..D..E....SLADE!" The Best Owner tuts. " No, it isn't, Baldy, it's Leonard Cohen. Now fuck off, the Lidl van has arrived." Let's leave The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever with his little cups ( they're the only ones he'll ever see while he runs this club) and wish the team the best of luck for the season ahead. Meanwhile, he's still here. OH FUCK....
Day 950. Well, what can you say? After that magnificent result yesterday against Cheltenham, what really is there to add? I'm going to take the high road this morning and not rant myself silly. Roland and his mighty back room team need no help from me to make themselves look an appalling bunch of human beings, they can manage to convey that perfectly well on their own. So he's still here. I don't even need to add "wanker" or anything like that, this regime are self basting in their own crapulence. But in the meantime until they go to be dreadful somewhere else- Oh fuck....
Comments
He's still here.
Oh double fuck....
Dave Whelan passed Wigan on to David Sharp his Grandson.
I'm worried that 3blokes will end up at Infinity and beyond !
The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever is not alone in his shed this morning. Today he has been joined by Mrs Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever.
And she is not a happy bunny.
I'm afraid she's shouting rather.
Let's take a moment to listen in :
" For God's sake, Roland, stop bloody duct taping everything ! I can't drink another coffee out of a bloody cup with half a roll of bleeding gaffer tape round it! Face it, the cup fell off the work top, Roland. It's fucked. Just throw the bloody thing away and go and buy a new one at Wilco for Christ's sake! It's not as though we are short of a bob or two, is it! One of the £2.50 ticket surcharges will cover it anyway, you prize tit! "
The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever shifts a little in his seat. Best not to say anything when she's in one of these "moods".
And she continues:
"Everywhere I look, there's bloody duct tape! On your shoes, on the bath taps, on the sofa, around the Henry Moore statue in the hall, across the Italian marble mantelpiece, under the kitchen sink, even....in my knicker drawer! And you go and buy a lovely new screen for our indoor cinema and what do you do, when my mother trips over a box of your bloody tape, and headbutts the screen? You put a fucking great strip of tape halfway across the screen! How are we meant to enjoy our morning episode of Quincy when his forensic skills are half covered up by 30cm of brown tape!!! No wonder people bloody hate you!!"
She lets out a long sigh.
" There's your coffee, anyway." she says with weary resignation, putting down a cup with a gaffer taped handle.
The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever stares at it and looks up at his wife.
" Have we none of the little amaretto biscuits, Mrs Best Owner Of A Football Ever?" he asks, with his classic Something Of The Night look.
His wife gazes back at him.
" Oh do fuck off. " she says and leaves, slamming the garden shed.
The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever stares after her.
What was THAT all about?
He sits there thinking.
Maybe he needs to put in an order with Lidl for some more biscuits. Maybe even two packs. Yes, that would be a good idea, that would lift her spirits.
He smiles to himself as he goes back to counting his 25mm wood nails, yes, he knew his way to a woman's.....what was that thing called?....oh yes....that was it.........heart.
He's still here.
Oh fuck.........
He's still here.
Oh fuck.....
Morning! Sorry I'm late!
Day 935.
He's still here.
Oh fuck.....
I'm sure he's fine.
He's recently just built a shed.
He's still here. Doing nothing.
Oh fuck.....
It's a rollover. I wish he would.
He's still here.
Oh fuck....
He's still here, the man who knows the price of everything but the value of nothing. One day he will be gone. He's interim.
But for now, and just for now........oh fuck.....
get out of our cluuub
you interim wanker
get out of our club
This morning, the Best Owner Of a Football Club Ever has been joined by someone else in his shed.
It is his "niece", the Angel from SE7.
She is watching him as he counts out his 10mm rivets.
" Uncle, can I help you count those?" she says, suddenly flashing him that winning ( I love a bit of irony, me) smile that has set stomachs a flutter all over SE7, and launched a thousand shits.
"Oh ffs! Was that 487...or 488!!??...." cries our Saviour in frustration "For goodness sake Daisy, never interrupt a count!"
"But you weren't saying anything!" replies the Simpering One."Oh.....oh yes.....I see what you mean....anyway, can't I help you do something? I can do lots of things on my own! Lots of things! "
The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever gazes at her for a moment. He could still remember a time when she had been just an immature slip of a thing. In the hallway about 20 minutes ago when she had asked to play " shops".
Now here she was in his shed.
" All right, well, put this box of garden 60mm nails on that shelf over there." he says.
His niece beams at him and picks up the box.
" Whereabouts do you want it on the shelf?" she says.
"Oh, you decide. " says her Uncle.
She picks a spot on the shelf, puts the box there and stands back to admire one of the best things she has ever done.
" Well, obviously not THERE." says her Uncle, testily.
" And NOT there." he says a few seconds later when she moves the box.
"NO, NO!!!! WELL DON'T PUT IT THERE, YOU STUPID GIRL!! Right.... Move it back...no, further forward.... NO, NO FURTHER BACK.....now left 2 centimetres...NO THAT'S TOO FAR!! Right...right.....just leave it...leave it......LEAVE IT!!!!"
There is a loud crash as the box falls off the shelf. And as he was waving his arm about directing Daisy, The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever has knocked over his cup of coffee. The little amaretto biscuit is on the floor.
"FUCK'S SAKE!!" he cries.
There is a silence in the shed. Uncle stares at his upturned cup, the duct tape has all come apart. The little amaretto biscuit is completely fucked.
He lets out a long sigh.
"Whoops!" says Daisy, with a sniggery grin. "You need a new one of those now, don't you, Uncle !"
The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever stares at her in disbelief.
" Is there anything else you want me to do?" simpers his favourite "niece".
He looks at her.
" Yes.....yes there is." he replies." Could you open the door for me, please?"
His niece beams THAT smile and goes over and opens the door for him eagerly.
"Right, could you just step outside for me, for a moment?" he says.
Daisy steps outside.
"What should I do now, Uncle?" she says eagerly.
" Shut the door." replies her Uncle.
His niece shuts the door and stands there waiting for her next instruction.
"Splendid." says her uncle.
And shifts his attention back to his rivets. Simple, classic, inanimate.
Thank God that soppy child had gone.
And that point it would have been his turn to smile.
But he didn't have his fangs in.
He's still here.
Oh fuck.....
For 3blokes sake ?
For every CAFC fans sake ?
Please let Seth Plum be the winner of the 61 million on the Euro lottery,
as i believe he is a man of honour and will make good his pledge of becoming the new owner, wiping out our debts, making CAFC fans proud to be associated again with our great club
Waiting for Seth.
Please arrive before Godot.
It's not the biggest tragedy in the world at the moment, we all know it, but if you look at the thread where the ex season ticket holders have put in a shift for this club over the years, it is quietly killing dreams and community in SE7. It is an utter disgrace that someone SO remote, SO dispassionate, SO selfish is running this club for his own pathetic needs regardless of the community that has once served it ( and vice versa).
Mr. Duchatelet can do what he wants with his money. But not at the expense of a community he does not understand. It is a classic case of money being used as power to demolish the less powerful in the pursuit of more money. Make no mistake, Duchatelet is planning to make money from purchasing CAFC, he does not care HOW he does that, and he does not care one jot for the supporters of this club.
I believe we are watching someone who will be quite prepared to destroy the club if he can make a return on it. He doesn't care.
That's why I do this count. I am just waiting for the day he is gone. And waiting to see those ex season ticket holders standing in that queue to renew.
Keep the faith, and keep chipping away in whatever ways we can, it's all we can do, till he FUCKS OFF....
He's still here.
Oh fuck.....
He's still here.
Oh fuck.....
It is easy to enter and play plus you get a chance to win some cash prize! The deaf players would appreciate it very much if you can support them in any way.
Oh all the grounds in all the world he had to walk into ours.
Small minded, mean spirited, and taped up shoes, he's still here.
Oh fuck.....
He's still here.
Oh fuck.....
A new season about to begin.
He's still here ( but he won't be attending any games because that would be like, huh)
Oh fuck.....
Today The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever is not in his shed. He is in his study. Because today is an important day. It is a fresh start. A new beginning. Time to rectify the problems and mistakes of the past. He is full of expectation and hope.
Yes today Our Saviour is taking delivery of two brand new coffee mugs from Lidl. A new coffee experience awaits our Saviour. He almost experiences an emotion as he put the duct tape in the drawer. And now he keeps glancing eagerly out of the study window for the sight of the Lidl van coming up the drive.
To help pass the time he decides to put on some music to keep up his high spirits. Out comes Leonard Cohen's Now That's What I Call Misery - and The Best Owner listens contentedly as Leonard belts out "I Should Be So Lucky".
But the musical magic is interrupted when his PA pops her head round the door to inform him there is someone from CAFC on the phone for him.
Our Saviour frowns. What do they want now?
"Hello?"he says, picking up the phone.
"Hi, boss, it's me!"
The Best Owner inwardly groans. It is Head Ant.....no Head Coach.. That Brussel Slate fellow.....what does he want?
"Yes, Slate?" he says, flatly.
" Well start of the new season today, boss!" says the voice on the line.
"Oh yes," says the Best Owner absently, gazing up the drive. Was that a van?
" Any of the signings I asked for coming through yet?" comes the voice down the line.
The Best Owner shakes his head. What, did all they think he was fucking made of money or something!!??
"Actually, Slate, I'm just waiting for 2 new mugs to arrive." he replies, impatiently.
"We've had quite enough of those in the last two seasons, boss, sorry I want some decent players to compete properly this time !" Comes the reply.
The Best Owner stares at the phone in irritation.
"Oh...er.... well, we're close to signing....er...er..I dunno ....Pedro...Rivet...." he says vaguely.
"Who's he!?" says the Head Ant
" He's your new... ...full back." says Our Saviour.
"But he wasn't on my list!"
" Your point being, Skate?" says Our Saviour.
"Well, I don't want some Albanian ten year old with two left feet! I'm trying to run a football team here! I want some PROPER players! And for God's sake, you muppet, it's Slade!! S..L..A..D..E....SLADE!"
The Best Owner tuts.
" No, it isn't, Baldy, it's Leonard Cohen. Now fuck off, the Lidl van has arrived."
Let's leave The Best Owner Of A Football Club Ever with his little cups ( they're the only ones he'll ever see while he runs this club) and wish the team the best of luck for the season ahead.
Meanwhile, he's still here.
OH FUCK....
He's still here, steadying the ship. Ready to scuttle it.
Oh fuck......
He's still here.
Oh fuck...
Well, what can you say? After that magnificent result yesterday against Cheltenham, what really is there to add?
I'm going to take the high road this morning and not rant myself silly.
Roland and his mighty back room team need no help from me to make themselves look an appalling bunch of human beings, they can manage to convey that perfectly well on their own.
So he's still here. I don't even need to add "wanker" or anything like that, this regime are self basting in their own crapulence.
But in the meantime until they go to be dreadful somewhere else-
Oh fuck....
He's still here ruining the club.
Oh fuck....