Greetings, fellow scoffers. I trust you're all suitably stuffed with mini eggs and other Cadbury's treats (other chocolate is available, but that's the tastiest). Unfortunately, adding to my own personal week of hell has been a tooth extraction, rendering my gob tender, and my usual confectionery appetite minimal.
So once again, in my one-man crusade to protest about this deduction against those gits who caused this (whoever you believe them to be), this is going to be brief.
Off we go to Walsall. I say we - but not me, on account of the faff required to get tickets, and this painful gob of mine.
You know when you go to games and after ten minutes you start to get very worried that the players might go and do a Coventry... then out of nowhere they wake up and go goal mental?
Well, that. That's what happened on Saturday.
Hello. Good week?
Of course, I banter with you all. It may have started with a penalty shootout victory catapulting us to jubilation, but since, news that we might have to start playing our games down Memorial Park has diverted our attention quite swiftly.