Despise the club, the iconography and the deluded shits who find themselves supporting them.
I rejoice in their defeats and am warmly pleased in their off field failures. My nephew also summed it up that when he has to drive past that disgrace of a ground of theirs, he feels like he is passing a field of cowshit and physically feels himself move in his car seat away from where he can see it.
Also, in my job, if I meet anyone who is from the region (usually recognised by give-away language triggers) my first question is 'Blade or pig?' If it is 'pig', it could be Nicole Schzeringer or Margot Robbie type beauty before me but she would immediately become contemptible and someone of ridicule. (Of course, were is said females, a quick hop-on or some other act of vileness for my gratification would ameliorate my mindset somewhat)
I have admitted on here before however that I have in the past actually committed a conjugal act of unpleasantness with 'one of them'. The worst part about it is that I knew she was soiled, slovenly and a person of low morals and standards before I committed the sinful act. I have spent years in the wilderness in penance, prayed to Lord Michael Brown for forgiveness and some time ago managed to pay back my debt to society for my lapse in standards. An eminent doctor who assessed me did say that when it comes to the old one-eyed-custard-rifle, nature does in fact overcome nurture and it does not see 'shirt colours'. When this slip in judgement happened, I did come to my senses soon after and after vomiting copiously in revulsion I made the unsightly, piggy gronk walk home through Wadsley Bridge whilst I drove at speed back to my sister's in Renishaw for a scalding hot shower. I did wear a nodder, so there was no chance of my blessed issue causing an unfortunate, squalling hybrid who has the intent of feeling GCB in it's DNA but ends up sitting in their kop rooering as Duffy slams number three home.
pommpey