Originally Posted by
57vintage
Willie’s auld man was fine. Drove in from Inverallochy with the loon and stayed on for the sessions, never getting involved, leaving the coaches to get on with their job, and never failing to express thanks at the end.
That illusion was shattered somewhat one Saturday at Bellslea when he was in the company of around a dozen Charlie Duncan-influenced linguists, word and grammar-perfect in profanity.
It was directed at the referee, possibly Mr Matthew Northcroft, believed to be a former frequenter of these here virtual parts, who had made some minor indiscretion over a throw-in near the half-way line.
The industrial language was almost baroque in its decorative variety and delivered with the force and spleen of a thrash-metal ‘vocalist’ with his testicles being manipulated by a pair of pliers.
Bravo, West Sr, bravo.