Bazza who does a lot of match reports for us, has written a little something regarding recent events at our near neighbours!

The latest news from the Vile has filled the column inches today and was the top story yesterday and to show that there are no hard feelings at what must be a difficult time I’ve composed this little ditty:

The sun was shining on B6,
Shining with all his might:
He did his very best to make
The darkness there seem bright –
And this was odd, because it was
The middle of the night.

M.O.N. was moping sulkily,
Because he thought his run
Would allow more business to be there
When all was said and done –
‘Giving me no funds’ he said,
‘Will only spoil the fun!’

The Owner and the Manager
Were spoiling for a fight:
They wept like anything to see
Such quantities of s**te:
‘If this were only cleared away,’
We might just do alright.’

‘If seven fans with seven tops
Bought only just last year,
Do you suppose,’ the Manager said,
‘That they could get free beer?’
‘l doubt it,’ said the Owner,
And shed a bitter tear.

‘O Martin, come and walk with me!
The Owner did exclaim.
‘A pleasant walk, a pleasant talk,
Of James Mil – oh what’s ‘is name?
We have to flog him so we do,
Although it seems a shame.’

The Manager just looked at him
But never a word he said:
The Manager just blinked his eye,
And shook his heavy head –
Meaning to say he did not choose
To speak while seeing red.

‘Can I have the money then?’
The Manager did say,
Or you might find,
You’re in a bind as I go on my way.
The Owner smiled but quizzically,
And said ‘Well come what may!’

The Owner and the Manager
Walked on a mile or so,
Then on the door there was a knock
Conveniently low:
And there the board all solemn stood
And waited in a row.

‘The time has come,’ the Owner said,
‘To talk of many things:
Of all the money you have spent –
On rubbish players and things –
And why the club is f*****g skint–
And whether pigs have wings.’

‘But wait a bit,’ the Manager cried,
‘Before we have our chat;
For all the players are out of breath,
And some of them are fat!’
‘No hurry!’ said the Owner.
He thanked him much for that.

‘Some solvency,’ the Owner said,
‘Is what we chiefly need:
A balance sheet and more besides
Are very good indeed –
Now, if you’re ready, Martin dear,
I can begin to lead.’

‘But hang on a min!’ the Manager cried,
Turning a little blue.
‘Selling all our players would be
A dismal thing to do!’
‘The money’s fine,’ the Owner said,
‘But none of its for you!’

‘It seems a shame,’ the Owner said,
‘To play him such a trick.
After he’d brought us oh so far,
And made us rich so quick!’
The Manager said nothing but
‘You lot get on my wick!’

‘I weep for you,’ the Owner said:
‘I deeply sympathize.’
With sobs and tears he sorted out
M.O.N’s P45,
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes.

‘O Players,’ said the Owner,
‘You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we play at home again?’
But answer came there none –
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d flogged off every one!

KRO SOTV