blandmural
First Teamer
Here is an epic message from the voice of the people
my old man used to by a Bovril every night game at the Vetch and he'd get me to hold it for him while he put his change back in his wallet, honestly it was so hot to hold it was a form of child crueltyPlastics piss off.
I've never left a game early, never. Even when it's a freezing cold Tuesday night at the Vetch and its bucketing down with rain and we're deep in the hole on mud bath of a pitch. Sometimes you have to suffer through to the bitter end. Oh, and I forgot to mention the cat's piss cup of tea made from a WWII surplus tea bag used for the umpteenth time from the shack under the North Bank.