Sick note

Posted on January 30, 2016 by Sophie

The beginning of 2016 has not really gone according to plan. Unless, unbeknownst to me, the TLF January 2016 plan stated, “Be quite poorly and visit your GP more times in a month than you usually do in a year.” In which case, all boxes ticked.

Mr TLF has shown the patience of a saint during these difficult times. Not a major Saint I hasten to add. More a very minor one whose beatification is on a constant knife edge because it is quite a strain having a LBCB worshipping TLF cluttering up the house ALL week. My GP has also been excellent, but there are one or two symptoms that still have him stumped:

Acting out of character
“Come on Chelsea!” is not generally a phrase that TLF is oft heard to utter. Specially when they are playing Arsenal, a team for whom I do have a soft spot – who can forget their first Subbuteo team? Plus there is Arsene Wenger’s frequent battles with the winter coat zip, a battle that TLF knows only too well and I share his pain….For some of Mr Wenger’s epic skirmishes with said outer wear check out https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=xeM28xfDw91 And if the link don’t work just go to YouTube and search for Wenger zipper fail, trust me; I’m TLF.

Hallucinations
Every time I look at the sports pages Lesta City appear to be at the TOP of the premier league.

Strangely drawn to extremes
One of my cities occupies top spot in the prem while the other is bottom of the conference south. It makes my little TLF head hurt.

Obsessive and irrational behaviour
With must win games last Satday for both the mighty Saints and the mighty Lesta there seemed only one sane course of action. Impose full media blackout and COOK. Twelve blueberry muffins and one cottage pie later (TIP – for a fuller flavour add a tablespoon of Worcester sauce….to the pie, not the muffins), I check the interweb, squinting in the hope that this action will make any bad results look better. One team has triumphed and one has not – I knew I should have made a coffee sponge as well; you can never have too many lucky baked goods.

Hmm. Am starting to wonder if these are medical symptoms or just BAU for TLF?

TLF MD

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The lucky blue cheese burger

Posted on January 22, 2016 by Sophie

“There is NO such thing,” according to Mr TLF.

He isn’t of course denying the existence of the BCB. Any fule know that there is much culinary delight to be gained from placing a serious slice of your favourite blue cheese at the summit of your burger of choice (personally not so sure it would enhance a veggie burger quite like it does your prime beef, but I like to be an inclusive TLF where possible).

The finest BCB for me was produced by a slightly disreputable looking burger shop in Lesta, called TJ’s, conveniently located across the road from the car park of choice when visiting the once hallowed turf that was Filbert Street from my old home of Brum. The toppings seemed exotic back then – in the days of course when burgers were still filed under ‘junk food’ rather than ‘posh’ or ‘gourmet’ or ‘over-priced’. Mind you this is of course many moons ago, when beards were not cool, Dalston was not a cultural epicentre and hipsters were a pair of trousers.

The standard toppings (lettuce, cucumber etc etc) that accompanied this smorgasbord of artery-furring delight were generous, thus ensuring that by about the third bite you were clutching a rapidly disintegrating bun, with your now melted exotic topping running down your wrists while all the time you were wishing that you had either taken more than one complimentary (‘my you are looking nice this evening’) paper napkin or else packed a bib….preferably one of those hard plastic ones with the trough to catch wayward bits of food….ahh happy days.

Where was I? Oh yes, the ASG (anti-superstition grinch…like the BFG but not as friendly, large or such a best seller) is questioning the slice of luck that sat atop the blue cheese that sat atop the burger. He is a fule; just as the ‘lucky 7 steps on the low brick wall by the dodgy looking houses’ contributed to the greatness of the Martin O’Neil era so too did the consumption of the pre-match lucky blue cheese burger (by me not the team). Last minute equalisers and winners against far better opposition were not just down to the determination and skill of O’Neill’s Lesta; noooo the LBCB played its part. And before you all side with the Doubting Mr TLF, let me tell you that our ignominious slide into League One, was accompanied by the closure of the legendary TJ’s…I’m just saying.

The LBCB has of course been put to bed since then; I am more mature, more sanguine about all this. There are lucky bacon fries, lucky bobble hats and lucky polo shirts these days. There is also TLF’s golden rule – do not bet on your own team. You will jinx them and be doubly miffed as you witness not just defeat but also a small financial inconvenience. The special UN resolution that accompanies this golden rule is, ‘not on MY team either.’

Mr TLF of course, bearing in mind his attitude to lucky comestibles is full of snorting derision for TLF’s golden rule. Last Satday Mr TLF was in rule-breaking mood. Outraged that he had missed out on the generous odds when Lesta beat Spurs in the League (but of course if we had taken those odds Lesta wouldn’t have won – simples), he insisted on a double – his team and mine.

‘Nooooooo’, quoth TLF.

‘Yes!’ Quoth Mr TLF, “Because it won’t make any difference to the result. BECAUSE. THERE. IS. NO. SUCH. THING. AS. A. LUCKY. BLUE. CHEESE. BURGER.”

In the interests of domestic harmony I agreed to place his bet.
In an attempt to look like a supportive partner not some superstitious loon, I thought I would also show a little faith and contribute something towards the stake….And here are the classified results:
Newcastle 2 West Ham 1
Aston Villa 1 Leicester City 1

And before you think that maybe it’s because TLF joined in with the bet and that is the problem…..Lesta played Spurs on Wednesday – FA Cup replay. We lost 2-0. Guess what Mr TLF shoved into my little paw on Thursday morning…..

Last of the big spenders....

Last of the big spenders….

SEE!!!!!!!

Ladbroke Fox

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All heart

Posted on January 16, 2016 by Sophie

Part 1 Don’t go breaking my hart

Oh okay.
Fine then.
Go ahead.
Break it, tear it into small pieces and then stamp on it just a little bit. It is Sunday, TLF has wiped all reports of the mighty Saints humiliating 5-0 away defeat from the memory banks – LMF (lost memory fox) – and, in the interests of not being a jinx is pretending that Spurs v Lesta at White Hart Lane in the FA Cup is NOT happening. Not on the telly. Not on the wireless. Not on the Twitter. NOT AT ALL. Unfortunately everyone else has other ideas, as I am bombarded with texts and tweets. Not all of them are overly factual – ‘squeaky bum time’, leaves me none the wiser, “Are we hanging on for a draw? Desperately defending a slender lead? Or in urgent need of an equaliser or just the loo?” To escape this intrusion I give my 21st century self a stern talking to, emphasising the ability of your average TLF (not that there is any such thing as an average TLF of course), to survive for approx 45 minutes without accessing any forms of media or communication devices.

My second half of blissful ignorance is brusquely curtailed as muffled cries from the kitchen along the lines of, “Oh No. No. I don’t believe it. Nooooo,” drift up the stairs. Either Mr TLF has just experienced a soggy bottom disaster or something is rotten in the state of Tottenham. A late and slightly dubious penalty has denied Lesta a hard fought victory, placing a chill in our totally eclipsed harts as we check into hart break hotel. Still there is no point in crying our harts out – as our Lord God Claudio makes clear, “the referee says it was a penalty; it was a penalty.” That man has a good hart.

Part 2 What becomes of the broken-harted?

Well we wait for 72 hours and then we return to the scene of the crime. Admittedly the 72 hours is not some magical, TLF lucky time zone of choice, rather it’s the same fixture, but this time in the League. Can Our achy breaky harts be soothed or will there be hartache tonight?

TLF is in the fine company of Davy Mac (honorary Lesta fan for the evening in Mr TLF’s double-booked absence) and David G of corporate hart-shaped box (that’s my favourite so far) fame. We do our best for the cause:
* I eschew (BOOM!) a bet on Lesta, even in the face of league position defying odds of 7-2, as any fule kno that betting on your team is a serious nail in the victory coffin.
* Davy and I manage to sit next to what may well have been the only other Lesta fan on the local train into Lundun (whisper it quietly TLF, ‘it’s a sign’).
* We then bump into Paul, son of Ron and part of the St Albans Scottish Mafia as we make our way to the Victoria Line (it’s a sign!!).
* I bump into Tim who sits 3 seats away from me at Filbert Way (sign cubed!).

The weather had turned distinctly chilly and it was a cold cold hart that would have prevented the intrepid trio from enjoying a couple of beers and some fine Turkish food in a venue about 5 mins from the ground. They possibly do need to rethink their veggie offering; Davy Mac cannot live on hummus and chips alone. The mood was good and even a very angry steward who I think suspected I was about to launch a terrorist attack with my very suspicious looking glasses case couldn’t steal the sun from our harts.

Remarkably after much comedy defending and some hart and soul stopping moments it was still 0-0. In the 83rd moment Lesta get a corner. David G and I give it the usual tosh, ‘this is it. This is when we score.’ And we do. Pandemonium. The mighty Foxes hang on and this Fox goes home, knowing that the hartache is over.

Well until the Cup replay. But that’s not at White Hart Lane. So hand on hart, there’ll be no more of this errant nonsense.

Cardiac Fox

Posted in Match days | Comments Off on All heart

Ingratitude! Thou marble hearted fiend.

Posted on January 9, 2016 by Sophie

The bard and other have some great one liners about ingratitude. Some of them have some quite long-liners too but there’s only so much room for the title. Clearly the fickleness of the football crowd has been around since the dawn of time…..’ooh look our centre-half just pulled out of a fifty fifty tackle with a hairy mammoth; lazy git,’ as it is a source of constant inspiration on this subject.

Plenty of marble hearts were on display during and after Lesta’s first 90 minutes of 2016 ended in a 0-0 draw with Bournemouth……10-men Bournemouth…..Penalty-saving Bournemouth….. Out-Leicestering Leicester in the first half Bournemouth.
(NB the phrase to Out-Leicester in this context doesn’t mean they found a dead monarch in a car park, rather they harried, pressed and were speedy on the break a la Lesta City).

The accompanying symptom to a serious bout of ingratitude seemed to be short-term memory loss. There was grumbling, there was huffing and there was even the odd bit of low level booing at some of the Lesta players. Yeah those Lesta players who this time last year were bottom of the league and now are only second. Honestly; it’s like they are not trying.

TLF was though quite happy with a point. Yes we had clearly left our shooting boots at home and a missed penalty is always frustrating but:

For one (here we go again), TLF had her paws firmly clutching the half-empty glass and had spent her pre-match build up muttering about ‘banana skins’, ‘this being precisely the kind of game we eff-up’ to anyone who would listen, and plenty who would not.

For two, this was the first Filbert Way game in over a month that was scheduled for the proper time, i.e, on a SATURDAY at 3 O’CLOCK. So it meant easy TLF access.

For three, this proved I wasn’t a jinx – imagine if my first game in over six weeks and we’d lost….

For four, we had reached the magical 40 point that spell safety. Yes alright Captain Picky.Technically you can’t spell anything with numbers but you know what I mean.

While I accept that the first three of the above can be reasonably expected to pass my fellow supporters by; not the last one. We had 14 points this time last year FFS! A bit more gratitude and a little less la-di-da sense of entitlement would not go a miss. Sense of entitlement isn’t very attractive in any football club but it really don’t sit right in the weird and wonderful world of Lesta City. Strive yes; but don’t be tossers about it.

We are staying up and I am over the moon, or maybe even in it.

Lunar (steady with your ticks….) Fox

There won't be another full moon on Xmas Eve until 2034. FACT!

There won’t be another full moon on Xmas Eve until 2034. FACT!

With thanks to MJM of Miller Fine Arta for capturing my visit to the moon…who needs NASA!?

Posted in Match days | 1 Comment

Non trivial

Posted on January 5, 2016 by Sophie

With apologies for the delay, ‘events dear readers…events.’

Let me take you back to Boxing Day. Technically TLF was not a HHHTLF (that’s HoHoHo TLF), with both my beloved Cities choosing to leave neatly wrapped away defeats under the tree along with the discarded Christmas crackers, rubbery satsuma peel and the funny coloured booze that no one wants (actually there wasn’t any of that). However I chose to take it all in my TLF stride:

For one. No one else cared, being as I was in the very wonderful but mainly FFIZ (football free interest zone) that is the Dorset home of good friends.

For two. I was having too good a time – any venue where the host eschews (BOOM!) wine in favour of port to avoid a hangover is my kinda venue.

For three (yeah, I know doesn’t really work but am done with bullet points today). I had BIGGER sprouts to peel.

Revenge was in the air…although it might have been those sprouts. Like an episode of your favourite long running drama, let me take you back,
24 hours previously….
I had long since eschewed (BOOM squared!) board games due to a recognition that I was unlikely to ever outgrow that six year old who burst into tears every time they faced yet another bankruptcy in Monopoly. But the magic of Christmas, more commonly known as booze and a shiny new games set (“is there still a boot?”, “ooh look at the new Cluedo figures”, “a crib board!” “A what!?”) had come over me and there I was on Christmas Day, in amongst them.

Rather like the football that was to follow. It didn’t go well.

I never knew that a board game, based on a original idea by an anti-capitalist, can spirit away thoughtful, egalitarian and generous-hearted hosts and replace them with the Gekko family, straight out of Wall Street and gunning for the innocent TLF. My admittedly sentimental tactic of buying properties, because I used to live there, was futile and only played into their hands. Add to that an unerring ability to throw very low scores or the occasional hat trick of doubles (straight to jail, do not pass GO, do not etc etc) and it was clear that TLF could not swim with the sharks.

To be honest I was already reeling after a warm up game of TP, as the young people now call Trivial Pursuit. I should have known my luck was out, when Mr TLF’s distinctly sport light team (Boooo!), got the only mountain climbing question, answered correctly of course by the, yep, climber on his team. Their final cheese (wedge/pie/insert own preference) requirement was also sport and leisure -HA! Time to catch up. Or line them up with the easiest sport and leisure question, along the lines of ‘what famous hymn is played before the FA Cup?’ Even Mr part-time TLF knows that.

TLF fumed. Mr TLF celebrated.

Boxing Day
Gloves are off.
Teams are changed. This is not tactics, this is torpor – your team is where you is sat.
But the TLFs remain on opposite sides of the board.

His team take an early and crushing lead, 4-1 on the cheese front. They are overly triumphant. Our small but perfectly formed team is by turn too tired, too happy or trying too hard to look like they don’t care. No prizes for guessing which category I fell into.

And then the breakthrough. It isn’t the last minute winner, not even the hard fought equaliser, I don’t even think it was for a cheese, but it gave us hope. It is the confidence of Mr TLF, as he predicates the question with,”you’ll never get this,” that ups the stakes. Penalty taker faces keeper, crowd is hushed.
Performance un-enhancing booze has been taken.
The ball is struck hard and low, “In what film does the mad lemur, King Julien appear?”
The penalty taker is ready to leap into the crowd and celebrate.
But bosh with a cry of “Madagascar”, TLF leaps like a…er lemur and tips the ball round the corner to safety.

There is then I confess some not very ‘peace on earth, goodwill to all TLFs’ gloating on my part. Phrases like, ‘boom’, ‘get in my son’, ‘back of the net’ (I didn’t know at the time that I would come up with the penalty analogy later which would then grate a little) and ‘Jamie Vardy’s having a party’ are employed. As is some celebratory shuffling/very poor moon walking.

After that we were on a roll. With the exception of a slight wobble around the pronunciation of Muirfield/Murrayfield (don’t ask) we go from 4-1 down to 6-5 winners.

We are of course magnanimous in victory.

Magnanimous Fox (closely related to Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy)

Posted in Football deprived, Very random | Comments Off on Non trivial

What a difference a year makes….

Posted on December 23, 2015 by Sophie

With Christmas only two sleeps away, I thought it might be worth reviewing last year’s missive to the big man; Saint Nick, Father Christmas, the Present-Meister, Mr Claus……

December 2014

Dear Santa,

After a year of being a very good TLF, regularly writing my blog and hardly ever annoying Mr TLF or prioritising football over him (gulp), I was hoping that you might oblige me with the following gifts. They don’t all have to come immediately, during the impending 2015 will do just fine.

image

As you will see, things are looking a bit ropey for one of my teams and I know it is a massive ask and one that will potentially keep you and your elves busy until the next century but I was wondering if a jaw-dropping-relegation-avoiding Great Escape might be possible around May?

A steady and dignified hand at the tiller of the aforementioned football club would be nice too, or if that particularly cupboard at the North Pole is looking a bit bare then one that polarises opinions but to whom we will have to be eternally grateful will do.

While we are on the subject of managers, what I really wouldn’t want by the way, is for the ostrich-whisperer to be replaced with someone who is generally considered to be a bit of a Tinkerman and past his best…after all TLFs always know best what their club needs.

Two tickets for Euro 2016, which come the draw turn out to be England v Wales wouldn’t be a bad idea.

Very importantly I would like to see through the hard work and dedication of some fellow Saints supporters, a new galvanising and community focussed fans group set up. Must meet in a pub.

A new blue and lucky Saints bobble hat that has relegation-avoiding powers would be a bonus. Probably don’t need that until the winter of 2015.

To show there is more to me than the beautiful game I would also very much like an English monarch buried in my home City.

A new government (in retrospect maybe I should have been a smidgen bit more specific on this one).

A trip to the National Theatre to see a genuinely good drama about football. Must involve fellow Saints supporters and too much wine.

Finally, to be top of the premiership in twelve months time…..yeah ok, Santy Claus, I won’t push my luck.

Pinch me!

Pinch me!

And don’t worry I’ll get my own Christmas jumper.

HoHoHo

HoHoHo

Merry Christmas!

Enjoying-it-while-it-lasts-and-not-daft-enough-to-think-it-will Fox

Posted in Football deprived, Very random | Comments Off on What a difference a year makes….

All heart

Posted on December 23, 2015 by Sophie

Part 1 Don’t go breaking my hart
Oh okay.
Fine then.
Go ahead.
Break it, tear it into small pieces and then stamp on it just a little bit. It is Sunday, TLF has wiped all reports of the mighty Saints humiliating 5-0 away defeat from the memory banks – LMF (lost memory fox) – and, in the interests of not being a jinx is pretending that Spurs v Lesta at White Hart Lane in the FA Cup is NOT happening. Not on the telly. Not on the wireless. Not on the Twitter. NOT AT ALL. Unfortunately everyone else has other ideas, as I am bombarded with texts and tweets. Not all of them are overly factual – ‘squeaky bum time’, leaves me none the wiser, “Are we hanging on for a draw? Desperately defending a slender lead? Or in urgent need of an equaliser or just the loo?” To escape this intrusion I give my 21st century self a stern talking to, emphasising the ability of your average TLF (not that there is any such thing as an average TLF of course), to survive for approx 45 minutes without accessing any forms of media or communication devices.

My second half of blissful ignorance is brusquely curtailed as muffled cries from the kitchen along the lines of, “Oh No. No. I don’t believe it. Nooooo,” drift up the stairs. Either Mr TLF has just experienced a soggy bottom disaster or something is rotten in the state of Tottenham. A late and slightly dubious penalty has denied Lesta a hard fought victory, placing a chill in our totally eclipsed harts as we check into hart break hotel. Still there is no point in crying our harts out – as our Lord God Claudio makes clear, “the referee says it was a penalty; it was a penalty.” That man has a good hart.

Part 2 What becomes of the broken-harted?
Well we wait for 72 hours and then we return to the scene of the crime. Admittedly the 72 hours is not some magical, TLF lucky time zone of choice, rather it’s the same fixture, but this time in the League. Can Our achy breaky harts be soothed or will there be hart ache tonight?

TLF is in the fine company of Davy Mac (honorary Lesta fan for the evening in Mr TLF’s double-booked absence) and David G of corporate hart-shaped box (that’s my favourite so far) fame. We do our best for the cause:
I eschew (BOOM!) a bet on Lesta, even in the face of league position defying odds of 7-2, as any fule kno that betting on your team is a serious nail in the victory coffin.
Davy and I manage to sit next to what may well have been the only other Lesta fan on the local train into Lundun (whisper it quietly TLF, ‘it’s a sign’).
We then bump into Paul, son of Ron and part of the St Albans Scottish Mafia as we make our way to the Victoria Line (it’s a sign!!).
I bump into Tim who sits 3 seats away from me at Filbert Way (sign cubed!).

The weather had turned distinctly chilly and it was a cold cold hart that would have prevented the intrepid trio from enjoying a couple of beers and some fine Turkish food in a venue about 5 mins from the ground. They possibly do need to rethink their veggie offering; Davy Mac cannot live on hummus and chips alone. The mood is good and even a very angry steward who I think suspected I was about to launch a terrorist attack with my very suspicious looking glasses case cannot steal the sun from our harts.

Remarkably after much comedy defending and some hart and soul stopping moments it is still 0-0. In the 83rd moment Lesta get a corner. David G and I give it the usual tosh, ‘this is it. This is when we score.’ And we do. Pandemonium. The mighty Foxes hang on and this Fox goes home, knowing that the hartache is over.

Well until the Cup replay. But that’s not at White Hart Lane. So hand on hart, there’ll be no more of this errant nonsense.

Cardiac Fox

Posted in Match days, Very random | Comments Off on All heart

Distractions

Posted on December 18, 2015 by Sophie

If it’s not SKY messing with your football, it’s Christmas (and a soupçon of the Mighty Saint’s failure to get through the last round of the FA Trophy). Two home games; two consecutive WEEK nights; not a hope of actual attendance.

Night One Monday 14 December
Lesta v Chelsea
TLF’s attendance at this game has been abandoned due to rescheduling of kick off for televisual purposes, exacerbated with the storm force warning that would have accompanied consecutive over-nighters for TLF (see Night Two).

The mighty Lesta face champions, Chelsea. The form book to date has been lightly singed, torn, spat upon and and finally ground into the East Midlands dirt while someone sings ‘hahaha’ in relation to these two teams, plus Jose and the urbane and lovely Claudio have not enjoyed what you would describe as the most respectful of rivalries. It is therefore for the media a BiG thing. TLF’s experience of what happens when the spotlight falls on Lesta is not a good one and suggests the classic equation:
Excess match build up in Sunday papers + Being on telly = Massive Lesta humiliation to the square root of Pi squared.

I am therefore ever so slightly delighted when contrary to my pessimistic predictions Jamie Vardy puts the mighty Foxes ahead. I adopt a celebratory charlestonSLASHsamba set of steps around the living room (that would probably give Len Goodman a minor aneurism) to the articulate and creative tune of that well known number, “Gettin! Effing Yes! Jamie Vardy you effing beauty!” At this point I do have to acknowledge that there are advantages to having to watch the game on telly rather than being there, as my celebratory dance space is significantly larger than my usual spot at Filbert Way.

Come the 48th minute the unimaginable happens. We score again. This time I endanger my vocal chords rather than my knee joints. We, the not really very Mighty Lestacity, whose bubble-has-to-burst-sometime-soon are 2-0 up against the Champions. And in this situation there is only one natural, primeval TLF reaction. It’s in the genes. Don’t fight it. Fight, flight or WORRY. I am good at worrying, really good at it. Mr TLF is finding it all a bit bemusing as I explain that I am worried we will blow it and lose 3-2. I frown, I hold my head in my hands and I partially hide under a blanket. The blanket gets clutched a bit tighter when Chelsea get one back. I don’t think Mr TLF knows whether to pour me a stiff drink, ignore me or have me sectioned. Fortunately for both of us, after an additional FIVE minutes stoppage time the agony finally ends. Down to our continuing good form, Chelsea not being very good and TLF obeying all her various arcane footballing laws (no replying to texts during the game, running hands through hair in panic at 2 minute intervals), Lesta have won and are TOP of the league.

Night Two Tuesday 15 December
Mighty Saints v Maidenhead Utd
TLF’s attendance at this game has been abandoned due to the first night in a hat trick of work festive parties.

TLF is so distracted with pressing work matters (that are strangely lager shaped on this particular evening) that thoughts of football are abandoned, along with thoughts of good taste, modest consumption and phoning home. The following morning after accepting that I have no idea how I made it to my hotel I am delighted to discover that St Albans have, in my absence, won 3-2 and are OUT of the relegation zone.

At the risk of being accused of repetition (but not deviation or hesitation).

Fa la la la, la la la laaaaaaaaaa!

Smug or tipsy? Possibly both

Smug or tipsy? Possibly both

Posted in Football deprived | Comments Off on Distractions

Deck the halls with boughs of holly

Posted on December 12, 2015 by Sophie

Tis the season to be jolly
Well…..from a footballing and Clarence Park point of view perhaps not that jolly. More like a bleak midwinter. I arrive for our home game against Margate, already in my own little grumpy TLF world which is exacerbated by the heavy pall that hangs over the ground. Bottom but one, manager-less and secretary-less, there is a general despond around the place. Andy the burger man, often lugubrious but always with a twinkle, leans against the hoardings watching the players warm up, “I was quite cheerful until I got here Soph and now look at me. No one’s happy and it’s catching.” As someone who was far from happy after a particular pants Friday night out (home at 1.30am and sober is NOT acceptable in TLF’s guide to partaying) I am sensing a certain synergy (ugh) with that vibe and thus feel that it is only fair to inflict on the innocent parties that are Julie and Andy the sorry tale of my Friday evening – think bad travel and unacceptable levels of sobriety and you are almost there.
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Tra la la la!!!!

While I tell of Yueltide Treasure
By which I mean that I am off to the shop where I repeat the same sorry tale of my unhappy Friday evening at Lee, but a bit louder and with gestures. He let’s me vent.
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Yep. I get it.

Don we now our gay apparel
Fortunately for our esteemed programme editor and shopkeeper (sadly unlike the one in Mr Benn he is not resplendent in a fez), I have been inspired by Zac’s sartorial elegance and am drawn to a new purchase at the Mighty Saints fine apparel emporium.
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
OK. Possibly that might do it on the ‘la’ front.

What every well dressed TLF is wearing this winter.

What every well dressed TLF is wearing this winter.


Laughing, quaffing all together
After a good rant and some minor retail therapy my mood had improved, but a good quaff would surely see me right. And so it proved. The gang are in residence and in particularly fine form. I have had the temerity to steal John’s chair but my punishment is merely to share it with him when he returns to the bar. I get the full download from the disaster that was Lowestoft and the, ahem, constructive dialogue that took place between Farmer Snr and Jnr and our then management team and some players. It is perhaps not a dis-similar sentiment to the opinion that is shared by them, Ray and others as I embark on my ‘unhappy-with-a-posh-curry story’.
– So did you pay for it gal?
– No
– Well then. What are you moaning about? Happy days!!

Well they were probably a bit kinder than when they were at Lowestoft. And they do have a point (again).
Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Enuff!!!

Heedless of the wind and weather
We settle down for the first half, where in the current climate, we are delighted to not get hypothermia and also go in at 0-0 and revel in the name allocated to our pint-sized ref; Tinky-Winky.
Fa la la la la, blah blah blah blah.

Hail the second half goals ye lads and lasses (I might be going a bit off piste lyric wise I admit)
Oh yes! The mighty Saints score two in quick succession and then a beautiful third where Sam Corcoran has the sense to ignore our demands to ‘put it wide’ and beats the keeper for a beautiful third.
Fa, la

Fill the mead cup and spill the lager
Such is the joy and bonhomie that John Farmer feels the need to throw me in the air, “Don’t spill my Stella……….all over your Dad………” GULP. But fortunately Farmer Senior, senior, takes it all in good heart. After all we are the Mighty Saints. We have won 3-0, as remarkably have the mighty Lesta who, for good measure pop up to the peak of the Prem again.

Johnny Farmer, he drinks lager. And I spill it over his dad.

Johnny Farmer, he drinks lager. And I spill it over his dad.

Fa,la la la, LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Festive Fox

Match Stats
St Albans 3 Margate 0
Attendance: 421
Lager consumed/spilt: 2 pints Stella, 1 pint something interesting from the Xmas Market
Snackage: festive duck wrap and bacon fries
Dismal festive raffle investment: 10 tickets

Posted in Match days | Comments Off on Deck the halls with boughs of holly

Strange times

Posted on December 5, 2015 by Sophie

Football is often a matter of timing.

Whether a striker times their run into the box to perfection, a defender mistimes a tackle, the teams play extra time, timing BLAHBLAH. Or indeed when kick off TIME is moved to suit the effing TV cameras. That is the stark reality of the mighty Lesta City and TLF’s December, not a ‘normal’ home fixture in sight. Tis the season to be grumpy.

And so I found myself an armchair supporter as I settled down to watch Lesta v Man Utd, or as we were disbelievingly calling it, “First v Second.” For those in the know, you are quite right, this kick off was a mere two and a half hours later than normal, but if you want to try and sell a Satday ETA of 10pm to Mr TLF, after a week that included one night out on the lash in ‘that there Lundun’ then be my guest.

Bring the vodka and Bacardi*
Jamie Vardy’s having a party
(*other beverages are available but might detract from the poetic nature of the chant).

And with a perfectly timed run (plus turn of speed and a cracking pass from defender Christian Fuchs), Mr V successfully sets a new record of 11 goals in 11 Premier League games. A record previously held by one Mr van Nistelrooy of the current opposition, Manchester United, a year after Jamie Vardy still only had one goal to his name scored against, Manchester United. Not merely a sense of timing, but also a sense of occasion. TLF carries out a dance disaster of a celebratory jig in the living room and eschews (BOOM!) the aforementioned spirits for the more traditional TLF party libation, Stella Artois. The game finished 1-1 and a brief sense of disappointment at not beating Manchester United was quickly laughed out of the room when the little grey cells reminded me of our precarious situation 12 months previous.

Sadly the party in Lowestoft, where the Mighty Saints have travelled was most definitely OFF, complete with deflated balloons, warm lager and a distinctly poor savoury snack offering (metaphorically of course I do not wish to imply Lowestoft has low standards of catering). After a 4-0 thumping in the FA Trophy and a series of other bad results, our joint managers resigned before they even got on the coach to come back home. I ended the day with one team bottom but one of their league and one team top but one….Strange times indeed.

It is unlikely the departure of Jimmy Grey and Graham Gold will make it into Private Eye for an satirical commentary and so I have done my best to oblige with a TLF Poetry Corner, for those familiar with the said periodical.

So. Farewell Mr Gold and Grey.
You could have been
Extras in Reservoir Dogs
But instead you managed
The Mighty Saints.

You led us to
Play off Glory.
But more recently
Defeat has made us
Sick as parrots.

And just like
The one in
The Monty Python sketch.
Our joint management team
Has ceased to be.

TLF Thribb (aged 17 1/2)

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