‘Oh, gawd blimey’. My late lamented father used that phrase every time something blew up in his face.
It could be his car failing to start, the garden gate coming off its hinges, the dog running off or my mother kicking off at him for no real reason. It could also be employed when he had to work Police overtime he didn’t want. I knew to keep out of his way when I heard that phrase from a very young age. He swore frequently but usually gently.
But I’m going to resurrect the phrase: Oh, gawd blimey. We had the better of that lot and still contrived to lose.
No disaster though. It just would have been nice for a genuinely horrible team to have been denied three points. I have developed a late-life dislike for them, particularly for one of their supporters. No place for reference to S.A.M. missiles in this non-political article but hopefully several folks will get my general idea.
Never before have I wanted us to see out stoppage time as much as Saturday. We couldn’t do it. Oh, gawd blimey.
But let’s not get on our lot’s collective back. We had a reasonable go. Everybody knew before the game what a tough fixture it was and we came up fractionally short. We don’t look good in the league table – well, one point from nine and we wouldn’t, would we?
As regular readers of MFW will know, I find it extremely difficult to comment on a match I have not personally attended. I’ll put that right after Preston of course.
In any case, Editor Gary’s piece yesterday has well covered that.
Whether we like it or not at the final whistle the scoreboard flashed up Sheffield United 2 Norwich City 1. It got me some cred in the MFW prediction table, but I don’t care about that. Cookie will win anyway.
But one thing that did catch my eye was a piece by a lady who I once met and respect – Karren Brady in the dreaded Sun on Saturday. It was easy to find after I’d picked my way past Dear Deidre and the Striker cartoon strip.
She said: “Wolves and Fulham have had it easy, especially if you believe money is the only thing that talks”.
And: ‘Increasingly, promotion (to the PL) is going to become a rich man’s game.’
Now I’m the original ordinary Joe, but where the hell does that leave us?
Oh, gawd blimey.