It was probably tempting fate to heap praise on the success of the new TLF lucky Lesta socks. Cue an immediate blip as they and TLF pop up to Lesta for the first time in 2020 and witness a defeat to Southampton.

Fortunately, the socks are not at any risk of being sacked. Apart from the fact that they were a gift and are a fine pair of socks, luck, can be restored. Just wash ‘em and a second chance is earned (and 3rd, 4th etc as required). Any fule kno that the secret of the luck is all in the washing. Once a garment is associated with footballing success then it stays unwashed in TLF’s ‘book of luck, superstition and plain old nonsense’ (thank you Mr TLF for that third element).

This can of course create a whole different set of challenges; all may be well for those on the pitch, but those sitting near you might not fare so well. In TLF’s case, from an olfactory angle, deodorant could deal with the lucky t-shirt that accompanied that amazing Lesta Champions League adventure. But it was a replica of a 1960s away kit. In white. Fair to say that by the quarter-finals anyone witnessing said t-shirt would have assumed that that 1960s kit was not white but a pale grey with an asymmetrical lager and stray tapas pattern throughout.

Important to choose the right garment though. Imagine a pair of lucky Liverpool pants right now.

While I am in the area of garments, I do owe Southampton FC a bit of an apology. They were deserved victors on Satday and TLF was prepared to take it on the muzzle but for the state of their away shirts.

Now obviously a team that play in white and red striped shirts with black shorts don’t really need to wear their change kit against a team that play in blue shirts and white shorts, but that particular ship HMS ‘Malaise of the Modern Game’ has most definitely sailed. No, it was the idea that we had been beaten by a team playing in brown and yellow. A dodgy colour combo if ever TLF saw one, unless they were about to announce a sponsorship deal with UPS.

But upon revisiting the game via Match of the Day (you know….on the off chance the result had changed), it was clear that actually that change kit is grey with ‘volt-yellow shoulders and sleeve accents’. That last bit is from their website not MOTD.

TLF’s eyesight. Clearly on a par with Lesta’s midfield. Not quite what it was.

Sticking-to-primary-colours Fox

Those of a certain age may remember the 1980s series from Yorkshire Television, Arthur C Clarke’s Mysterious World. Thirteen episodes investigating unexplained phenomena from around the world. If only Sir Arthur was still around as TLF would like to suggest that a fourteenth episode might be in order after the last home game at Clarence Park.

Plenty of subject matter to pack out the episode. Apart from the obvious and perhaps all too predictable mysteries; how did the ref only see fit to award one penalty to the Mighty Saints (not seeing at all in fact)? How did St Albans not score a winner? And how could there only be FOUR minutes of injury time? There were other items that could potentially make it to the long list for the programme.
Why was Adrian drinking TEA?! Ok. No mystery, he’d got food poisoning but at first glance still a shock to the system.
Since when has standing by the outside bar, during the first half been described as, ‘noncing about’? Either way it worked as a exhortation as Julie and I followed Barry’s demands that we make our way toot suite to the terraces.
Where have all the fans gone? One for the boycotters there; never say TLF’s ramblings are not inclusive or topical.j

But top of the pile, is a phenomenon that definitely needs some urgent investigation.

It’s the mystery of the moving crests. What mysterious unearthly powers are behind these strange, supernatural movements? How does that hat crest move from the carefully placed, universally accepted centre-of-forehead positioning to somewhere due east, above the ear?

All central, present and correct

Unauthorised crest movement

It can’t be the amount of hair under said hat as this is a close hat encounter of the third kind that both TLF and Lord Barry of Skillett have experienced.

Perhaps it’s down to the number of times the head is buried in the hands as another chance goes begging?

Or maybe when you shout at the match officials with as much gusto and vim as Lord Skillet you actually create momentum in some crazy mash up of the laws of physics and the hitherto unknown laws of knitwear?

The truth is out there.

Scully Fox

There’s a pattern Chez TLF.

It goes like this. TLF being both consultative and also a fan of the early booking, will always check in with TLF as to whether he wants to see this band, that football match, that play. Mr TLF will generally say ‘yes’ and then in the run up to the event, feign surprise that we have tickets (‘you never told me!’ or get cold feet about his attendance.

Satday.
Lionesses v Germany. At Wemberlee. A record crowd for a women’s game in Ingurland is expected.
Cometh the hour cometh the man.

“It looks a bit wet out there.”
“Are you hinting you don’t want to go? I asked you months ago and you were really keen.”
“It wasn’t raining then.”

For all I know it may or may not have been raining when I booked it, but there was no time for faff. TLF pointed to the door and we were on our way to being part of history.

It was very rainy, Ingurland were very poor in patches and no one likes to concede a late goal. BUT it’s Wemberlee. And there is a certain joy in seeing all these young kids (particularly girls), and families having a ball (HOHO!) and not the slightest murmur of “10 German bombers” or any of those other highly witty anthems that seem to be required singing at other fixtures.

TLF’s Wemberlee rule is of course helpful in ensuring an enjoyable time is had by all. Calories don’t count. So bring on the beer, chilli dog, extra-large bag of crisps (bacon fries sadly a neglected delicacy at the national stadium) and over-priced pick n mix.

And it can get even better, because if the Train Gods are smiling on you post-match, there will be a roomy tube train at the Wemberlee Park waiting for you, a fast train to St Albans delayed just enough for you to catch it about two minutes after you get to the station meaning you are in the kebab shop (large mixed doner and chips if you are asking. Chili sauce? Yes please) by 8.45pm.

Thank you Wemberlee, thank you chili dog and thank you train services. Even though he was slightly soggy, Mr TLF was enthused, reflecting on a good day out and providing some post-match analysis.
Oh.
Or maybe it wasn’t down to any of those things but just the small bottle of whiskey that accidentally accompanied Mr TLF to the game and which he felt obliged to consume during the 90 minutes to destroy the evidence.

All of a sudden, the brilliant Ellen White’s twitter handle, @EllsBells, seems very apt.

Still-suffering-a-sugar-rush Fox

National TLF

Bit more football clutter for Mr TLF to moan about

Bit more football clutter for Mr TLF to moan about