Could things get any worse? You despise him already for being a Hibby. But then he mocks your defence with his trickery. Does a Cruyff turn on one of your defenders. Leaves your goalkeeper diving in despair. And then he comes sliding in celebration . . . right in front of you and your family.
As if life wasn’t hard enough Moriticia. Slimfast has proved a bigger disappointment than Vladimir Romanov ever did. Uncle Fester, on the left, can’t make sense of it. Again. Behind him, Lurch’s evil eyes are failing to wipe the smile off young Leigh’s face. Thing, on the right, is attempting to copy your rather fetching football-shirt-and-actual-shirt-combination without anywhere near as much success. What his left hand was doing under both shirts before the wonder goal, frankly, we’d rather not think about. And as for poor Pugsley on the far right (like most of your club’s supporters going by the number of Butcher’s Aprons on show yesterday), once the facial reconstruction surgery is paid for you’ll barely be able to afford one cow pie a day. And THEN you’re going to have to contend with the heart-break of relegation and scrabbling with your bigot brothers in blue to get out of Scotland’s second division . . .
At least that photo of you at your most glamorous didn’t become an online hit. No sireeeeee . . .
Speculation then raged. If you’re that wide at the front, just how big could you be at the back?!?
Just what else could be that big?
Hold on. What’s that you’re saying? You can’t wait for the cow pie to get cooked? Don’t worry . . .
Thumbs up Fat Chops! It could be worse . . . and it will be next season 😉