“Shit performance, shit result, queues wherever we went and to top it off my food didn’t arrive in Burger King before the train arrived . Never going Sheffield again"
When he got home, his mum said, 'How did it go love?'
He didn't reply. He just went 'Grrr!' kicked his shoes off and ran upstairs, sobbing. He entered his bedroom, bedecked with posters of Ipswich Town players and team and threw of his dark blue rain jacket, bobble hat and 'TRACTOR BOYS' scarf. The bedroom smelled of socks, farts and semen.
He threw himself on his single bed in frustration, face down in the winceyette eiderdown, screaming into the pillow. 'No, no, NO!' he yelled.
After two frantic minutes of wriggling, grunting and screaming, he lay still. He then let the bursting contents of his bladder flow through his old feller into his underwear, his jeans, the eiderdown, the sheets, the mattress. He felt satisfied. This was Ipswich Town's fault and this was the payback.
'What time do you want your tea, love?' said his mum, knocking and opening the door. She know what was happening next.
'Muuuuum!' he yelled, turning over. His crotch and the blue eiderdown was stained a darker hue. 'Muuuuuuuum!'
'Oh, love,' said his mum. 'Did they lose?'
'Yeeeeees!' he said. Tears broke down his cheeks.
'Okay, lovey ...' said his mum. 'Come here ...' She embraced her son, carefully and gently removed his clothes. wiped his unmentionables with a damp tissue and applied Zinc and Castor Oil around the areas prone to chapping. She then got out a clean shift and re-dessed him. Downstairs was a nice tea already prepared consisting of mince and onions. He liked that and she hoped it may lift his mood and maybe tonight would be a 'dry night'. This season it largely had been.
Later on he lay with his head on her lap watching Match of the Day, with a full erection as she stroked his hair.