The Colin Luckett Effect

So is that it then? Bugger it! All over before the fat lady has even warmed up with a gargle of mouthwash. I suppose if she'd choked on it, then that could've been us. Because today was the day we choked, big time. Not for the first time in our history have we been only 90 minutes from a trip to Wembley and fallen at the final hurdle. And that still hurts, so let's at least start with a spot of good old enthusiasm and before the match...

Kamikaze

For fuck sake, I can't fuckin' believe it. Wasn't that just a fuckin' kick in the teeth or what? I feel as depressed as going on a tandem on holiday in Centre Parcs.

After 24hrs since our season came to a bitterly disappointing end, I still feel absolutely gobsmacked! With what had started as a small dream soon became a nightmare as we limped over the finish line in what will be forever seen as a disappointing end to a near successful season of 2013/14. Even writing this is starting to depress me, but I must carry on like a gambling addict in Las Vegas, and try an finish what I started.

Rockin all Dover the World

Time check: 1655, in a mad panic I rush down the office stairs and head into the gents to change from my work clobber into my football wear for tonight's game. With time not on my side, I coat myself in the poor mans quick shower spray, a.k.a Lynx Deodrant, grab my gear and hit the streets of Leatherhead to meet the Duke at the organised rendezvous. Nope, not a glamorous pump, but Leatherhead station. I storm up the street in a military style, not giving time to those that may be in my way. Head down, and march on through.