In the second half, on the seventieth minute, the mood changed. A cold white panic swept through the crowd as the young Arsenal player Jack Wilshere went in on Pennant with his studs up. Our winger took exception to this by shoving his forehead into Wilshere’s face. It was not exactly a headbutt, but these moments are judgement calls, and it could easily be interpreted as such. It was not a certainty for a sending off, but that was a definite possibility and if the possibility came to pass then Pennant would be suspended for the final. Here was a disaster in the making, a turn of events that would strip us of half of our available width and flair. And, as things stood, we could be without the other half anyway: Matty Etherington was on the treatment table where he’d been for a couple of weeks; there was nothing in Stoke-on-Trent that was causing more concern than the state of the left winger’s hamstring. The confrontation between Wilshere and Pennant took place on the touchline right in front of us; Shawcross came over to speak to the referee. We could not hear what he said, but anyone could guess. ‘It’s the FA Cup final you’ll be putting him out of ref, please (hands together, gesture of prayer), please don’t do that.’ As he awaited his fate and the crowd held its breath Pennant put on a virtuoso cameo along the touchline. He is slight, he has many tattoos, including a selection that rise from his neck, he is rather beautiful and he is very cool. He is so rich that he forgot he owned a Porsche which he had left behind him down in Spain. One change of outfit into a sequined bodysuit and he could step directly into a British seventies soul band. His cameo consisted of an exasperated mime along the touchline. He was being persecuted here, for sure, for being ex-Arsenal, for the goal he had already scored, for the one he had set up, for having the nattiest hair. But, be that as it may, most crucially, and beyond any reasonable doubt, he was innocent. The ref fingered his card pocket and went walkabout.
“We not hear what he said”
Talking of seventies bands did you nick that from 10cc or did Mama help you out with the proof reading!
If I drop the whole thing on hear* section by section I’ll get free collective proofreading; Baron von Elt has already been on twitter correcting Wilshire to Wilshere for me. My God I am rubbish
I do not understand your 10cc comment.
Dreadlock Holiday! Perhaps I should of* ewesed Ricardo instead of Mama!
I am still non the wiser but since you are daftburger I am going to ignore you in the ewesewal way.
The dreadful dreadful Dreadlock Holiday and its cod-Jamaican “Me no like cricket” (although they don’t actually sing that). Anyway, is this an excerpt from a new Stoke book??
Well spotted
It is said that Jamaicans, Trinidadians, Guyanese, St. Vincentians, Antiguans, all speak patois, which is the dialectal offspring of the language of the colonial powers of these islands. What do we really speak, and does our language have a distinct name? Let us first find out what is patois. It is an illiterate or provincial form of speech; broken English; jargon. Jargon is confused speech, gibberish, or technical phraseology.
Article Source: http://EzineArticles.com/619834
And you’re supposed to be the English letchurer and me the Daftbugger!
Thanks Dave!
Ask Bumble or the Mogul; they come from those roots, innit.
“Pennant put on a virtuoso cameo”. Is that what gave you the idea for the sequins reference?
Word Up Ayeeeeeeee!
Could have been a cod (good) piece!
Another piece of proofreading, if I may: …Shawcross came over “to” speak to the referee…
Hah hah. This is funny.
Anyway, winger, I said to greyers just this afternoon that if it was me writing this book, I’d have binned it after the final because losing knocked the stuffing right of me. So, bravo for carrying on with it winger, and the part above, despite the shit grammar, is very good.
GGOS. (Hon umb) POC. x [ng]
I concur OS I mean I never watch MOTD when we loose so why would I want to read about our biggest ever game when we’ve loost? (Can we get people using loost instead of lost when they always use loose instead of lose?
)
So bravo Winger I hope it ends up all dark and melacholic! A bitter sweet symphony of you like!
*I may have been influenced by reading Thomas Hood’s, I remember, before posting this!
all conrtibutions welcome
Happiness writes white.
http://www.thedailymash.co.uk/news/society/books-making-children-gay-201106023894/
New to blogtalk however I did notice the lack of compliments to the writer and I know you’re all beyond trite with each other as you obviously know one another and are so relaxed and funny in your blogcommentconversationspeak…however I think its rather good…’Compelling’ in fact.
Best line for me so far ‘He is so rich that he forgot he owned a Porsche which he had left behind him down in Spain.
Funny and makes you think of the many ‘so rich’ footballers who seem to forget they have a wife…
Actually I have noticed a compliment now…I apologise x
A compliment, Laura! We must have slipped up somewhere. The general tone of comments on winger’s blog is to put the fey, middle class gayer firmly in his place with scathing attacks on his inability to write.
greyman is the proper writer. He knows stuff while winger bluffs his way through with big words.
Thank you Laura I’ll certainly take another, they are rather rare in this domain.
Right, I think it’s time for another Ban for OS…
Laura I certainly know non of the pseudo intelectewals and hate them for the cluquey bunch of gits they are. I keep looking for the authors books but they are yet to appear in my local Dougie Mac charity shop. Maybe this is a compliment?
I’m desperate to be in there* clique!
As Oleta Adams nearly sang, you’re in a Clique of One Daftburger.
I’d like to compliment OS on his determination not to flirt with Laura in that oleaginous way of his that makes the rest of us dry-heave.
Dry heaving is good, greyers. The Greeks (like him above with the mighty pinkler) would consider it good manners, so heave away all of you.
Ignore them, Laura. They couldn’t pull with their best suits on these days… well, not unless the lass sees the colour of their brass first.
“not unless the lass sees the colour of their brass first. ”
that’s me out then : )
“oleaginous” is just such a fabulous word – can’t help but love it!
Well…only because you said so:
“conrtibutions”