04-03-2015, 02:32
A Bedtime Story
NIGHTMARE ON ALBION STREET By Valpayne
And so it was, during a gruelling 14 hr shift at work I kept my eyes on BBC Sport hoping for once we would lay down the gauntlet and take the honours at the dreaded villa park?
But no, alas, Villa scored first and were taking shots for fun, it seemed, while we appeared to be, well... just laying down, like lambs to the slaughter, Then out of nowhere, hope eternal, as first, Berahino with that equaliser then a short time later, The saints putting one past Palace and the ascent up the north face of the prem began as we clawed our way into 12th place.
With fear and trepidation I continued to watch the clock tick down and as it did I dared to dream of coming home in the dead of night and tuning into the sky sports highlights and enjoying a hearty supper washed down with a glass or two of liquid treats. Surely at 90 minutes + we weren't going to blow this were we? :/ Then I saw Ska'ds one word post "NIGHTMARE" and with growing horror I flicked back to see the BBC version of events and saw the immortal words PENALTY No, NO, NO, NOOOO, FFS NO I cried. But all in vain, as the team that cannot score for love nor money once again put us to the sword with that familiar 2-1 scoreline I've seen so many times down the years.
Sick to my stomach I finished my last job at work and headed home some time after 11pm and the final insult of not being able to park anywhere near my house rammed the final nail in my coffin as I face a lengthy walk to the car and another 12 hour grueller at work come the morrow. Living as i do alone there is no-one here to sound off at no-one to drown my sorrows with No wife to strangle, just me and the red light of the skybox teasing me, laughing at me as it records this evenings horror show starring Fozzimodo.
The only pitiful crumb of comfort left is my beloved family, the villa side that is, are happy for once but have wisely declined to rub it in as I drown my sorrows in the aforementioned liquid treats.
So now I am a broken man, I am that 8 year old that used to hide under the table whenever we lost a game. But above all I am sick and tired of losing to Aston bloody Villa. I was positive we wouldn't lose both games I had turned over a new leaf and with optimism I declared on these pages that very notion. However now I'm not so sure and I must return to my dark sadistic, pessimistic and gloomy side.
The End
NIGHTMARE ON ALBION STREET By Valpayne
And so it was, during a gruelling 14 hr shift at work I kept my eyes on BBC Sport hoping for once we would lay down the gauntlet and take the honours at the dreaded villa park?
But no, alas, Villa scored first and were taking shots for fun, it seemed, while we appeared to be, well... just laying down, like lambs to the slaughter, Then out of nowhere, hope eternal, as first, Berahino with that equaliser then a short time later, The saints putting one past Palace and the ascent up the north face of the prem began as we clawed our way into 12th place.
With fear and trepidation I continued to watch the clock tick down and as it did I dared to dream of coming home in the dead of night and tuning into the sky sports highlights and enjoying a hearty supper washed down with a glass or two of liquid treats. Surely at 90 minutes + we weren't going to blow this were we? :/ Then I saw Ska'ds one word post "NIGHTMARE" and with growing horror I flicked back to see the BBC version of events and saw the immortal words PENALTY No, NO, NO, NOOOO, FFS NO I cried. But all in vain, as the team that cannot score for love nor money once again put us to the sword with that familiar 2-1 scoreline I've seen so many times down the years.
Sick to my stomach I finished my last job at work and headed home some time after 11pm and the final insult of not being able to park anywhere near my house rammed the final nail in my coffin as I face a lengthy walk to the car and another 12 hour grueller at work come the morrow. Living as i do alone there is no-one here to sound off at no-one to drown my sorrows with No wife to strangle, just me and the red light of the skybox teasing me, laughing at me as it records this evenings horror show starring Fozzimodo.
The only pitiful crumb of comfort left is my beloved family, the villa side that is, are happy for once but have wisely declined to rub it in as I drown my sorrows in the aforementioned liquid treats.
So now I am a broken man, I am that 8 year old that used to hide under the table whenever we lost a game. But above all I am sick and tired of losing to Aston bloody Villa. I was positive we wouldn't lose both games I had turned over a new leaf and with optimism I declared on these pages that very notion. However now I'm not so sure and I must return to my dark sadistic, pessimistic and gloomy side.
The End