Chesterfield tonight.

Watching Cambridge can be terminal, Cambridge hold the record for persons, some female entering the ground, six being pregnant, but only two leaving with pregnancy intact, that there were four miscarriages due to what was being played out on the pitch.

This is in the Guinness book of records, and i bet it was in the days of Paddy Rayment, strangely signed by united pretending to be a footballer.

To me watching united since i was a child was like listening to the wind whipping through the floodlights on a november evening, and wishing i had a chainsaw so i could cut through the supports for a floodlight to crash down during a game.

That in those far off days, among the celery trenches a man used to light fires during a game, the smoke engulfing play, but ultimately failing to eradicate what i was to finally regard as snot.

What is the difference?.....isnt United and all it entails merely bellowing, and that almost non existent, convulsing, moaning like a cow being led to execution.

And, the average united fan, what is their appreciation of what happens on a pitch?, how many times have they pulled the chain, like going to the toilet, none, because they dont see it, how many bestial cries are there when the manager appears, none.

There is no understanding of movements, and im not reffering to music, but to something more basic, indeed, applause happens. A united home game is like butchery, of a bullock, the butchery of the fans.

If United fans read it will be the Daily Mirror, if they smile it will reveal gaps, if married it will be to a grotesque monster, devoid of style, and they will have face tattoos, plastic clothes, blue, orange, yellow hair.

and will be smoking a joint. O god, another game, another persuit of futility, i pray for you all.