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Gawd sake, dont know why Cheltenham turned up. This was a game from hell, 6,000 turned up to watch that, amazing. , that wasnt a football league game, it was the southern league div 1, circa 1964, Ramsgate v Canterbury City.
Where was the talent, who could pass, dribble, create?
No one.
Dominic Ball is a clogger in the long history of Cambridge cloggers, a disgraceful footballer, if the devil could pick a worst 11 Ball would be in it. Hes just there to impose, theres nowt else, in the Digby style, a nazi paratrooper, an SAS thug, i have more talent in my as shole.
Cheltenham just came to keep the score down, they are hopeless, frigid, impotent, talentless, a void, nothing, a waste of space.
Like Cambridge, like Loft, Like Harris, like Corr, like Watts, Watts, a godzilla, but with less spikes. A footballing ogre, getting paid for showing up as bad.
Appere, trying to deny hes ill equipped by running a lot, hes next goal will be for another club, probably Fisher Athletic.
Is this football, or a poison administered by a Russian?, i felt woozy, ill, poisoned, my guts were in turmoil, pain racked my soul, if this is death then bring it on, i wont have to suffer this again.
The goverment must be thinking of making the Corona kop a protected building, its that old, an embarrasment, to be embraced by it by being in there is to take your life into your hands, to be transported back to the days of the light blue, of cloth caps, of Heinkels overhead.
And on the pitch, richly paid no bodies, devoid of talent, vision, drones, cack legged, loo loos, willing to take orders, not act independantly to win anything.
Brains that had been removed, programmed by Harris, programmed to insult the watcher, badly, and still take the money.
The Cambridge team of 1938 would crush these imposters in ten minutes, because they would be allowed to let rip, play, express, use initiative, create, not take orders, fear, defend, act and think like losers, because they are.
Ball is a monstrosity, he doesnt play football, he just lugs around.
Harris said it was a great result for the football club, like he wasnt part of it, and he isnt, hes just there for a while, detached, uncaring, a hireling on his way soon.
The sooner the better, so Bonner can take over again, minus Mullin this time, and show us how ordinary he has always been.
A quitter, giving up on himself, playing safe, not trying his luck again, because it would take luck for him to succeed, like before, taking the knee, begging players to perform.
Like at Sarfend, no one played for him because they knew he was an imposter, talentless, ordinary, a brick in the wall, faff, empty, a noise with no meaning to it, a school boy in mans clothing.
That is what Cambridge produces on and off the pitch, nobodies. Faff. God help you all.
Where was the talent, who could pass, dribble, create?
No one.
Dominic Ball is a clogger in the long history of Cambridge cloggers, a disgraceful footballer, if the devil could pick a worst 11 Ball would be in it. Hes just there to impose, theres nowt else, in the Digby style, a nazi paratrooper, an SAS thug, i have more talent in my as shole.
Cheltenham just came to keep the score down, they are hopeless, frigid, impotent, talentless, a void, nothing, a waste of space.
Like Cambridge, like Loft, Like Harris, like Corr, like Watts, Watts, a godzilla, but with less spikes. A footballing ogre, getting paid for showing up as bad.
Appere, trying to deny hes ill equipped by running a lot, hes next goal will be for another club, probably Fisher Athletic.
Is this football, or a poison administered by a Russian?, i felt woozy, ill, poisoned, my guts were in turmoil, pain racked my soul, if this is death then bring it on, i wont have to suffer this again.
The goverment must be thinking of making the Corona kop a protected building, its that old, an embarrasment, to be embraced by it by being in there is to take your life into your hands, to be transported back to the days of the light blue, of cloth caps, of Heinkels overhead.
And on the pitch, richly paid no bodies, devoid of talent, vision, drones, cack legged, loo loos, willing to take orders, not act independantly to win anything.
Brains that had been removed, programmed by Harris, programmed to insult the watcher, badly, and still take the money.
The Cambridge team of 1938 would crush these imposters in ten minutes, because they would be allowed to let rip, play, express, use initiative, create, not take orders, fear, defend, act and think like losers, because they are.
Ball is a monstrosity, he doesnt play football, he just lugs around.
Harris said it was a great result for the football club, like he wasnt part of it, and he isnt, hes just there for a while, detached, uncaring, a hireling on his way soon.
The sooner the better, so Bonner can take over again, minus Mullin this time, and show us how ordinary he has always been.
A quitter, giving up on himself, playing safe, not trying his luck again, because it would take luck for him to succeed, like before, taking the knee, begging players to perform.
Like at Sarfend, no one played for him because they knew he was an imposter, talentless, ordinary, a brick in the wall, faff, empty, a noise with no meaning to it, a school boy in mans clothing.
That is what Cambridge produces on and off the pitch, nobodies. Faff. God help you all.
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