Unsupportive lyrics

This morning, at Waitrose, a chap turned up with a spray can and proceeded to create a winter scene on one of the big windows. “Just like Banksey,” said the woman on the check out. “Without the politics,” I added.

According to the Woman Who Keeps Ferrets, he was expected and will also be decorating other Farnham windows. She greeted him and said how much she enjoyed the Christmas scene. The artist corrected her. “It is a Winter scene,” he said.

According to another staff member, it looked particularly good when it was still dark outside. I think it looks pretty amazing anyway. There was a lot of admiration for the reflection of the bridge in the river.

I sound a lot happier than I was, given the side effects of yesterday’s injection. I had a disturbed night and woke up feeling washed out as if I’d just got over the flu. And my arm ached. I woke up every time I rolled over onto my left side.

As the day progressed and my new, altered RNA wrapped itself around my DNA, I started feeling worse. I was beginning to wonder whether I’d really feel up to going to the football later. Aldershot were playing Weymouth and Nicktor was picking me up at around 7pm. As things turned out, it’s a shame I started feeling better.

I thought I’d get to see a win, my first of the season. Or, at the very least, a draw. After all, the Board had removed the manager Danny Searle just as his team started winning and replaced him with, I assumed, a better manager and a few new players. Unfortunately, it appears that new manager, Mark Molesley didn’t read the memo.

The team was lacklustre at best. To be fair, Weymouth weren’t a lot better except when it came to putting the ball in the net. In that respect they were twice as good as us. In fact, it wasn’t until Gime Toure came on in the second half that the Shots looked like a football team at all.

On loan from Carlisle United, Toure brought the game alive…a few times. He was unlucky not to score or at least assist in a goal given the opportunities he created. Mind you, time and time again, the Weymouth defence remained strong, resolute and unbreakable. As Charlie said, “Their defenders are huge! They’re almost as big as the Bromley boys on Saturday.“

Overall, it was a pretty dire game which had the East Bank singing desperate encouragement. The singing eventually changed to a few rounds of We’re fucking shit! And the delightfully ironic We’ve got the ball! when we were in possession.

James was so upset that he sat down during half-time and wrapped his sadness in the joy of his big, colourful sleeping bag jacket.

It was a miserable night, with a light rain falling and a lot of crappy football on the pitch. At least Molesley can be assured his position as manager is safe. After all, the Board only sacks a manager when he’s successful.