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Loftus Road is TINY. I'm 6ft 1 and the leg room is NUMBER ONE BULLSHIT.
Also, it's been a MILLION YEARS since Ollie's 'this is our cave' era. Fortress? Fort-LESS mer like.
It's not even called Loftus Road anymore. Matrade or some shit? I don't even know what that is.
So, anyway, the reasons to stay really just boil down to tradition (LOL us with our MASSIVE TRADITION), it being a FAFF to move and, most importantly, if we move we'll find a way to F*CK IT ALL UP.
I have been suppressing my lowest ever moment but I trust you guys, this is a safe space. So here it is.
About 25 years ago I was walking around North London with my then girlfriend. We decided to go for a bit of a pub lunch. Found a place and that was a relief because I needed a cack like the rivers miss their rain or whatever.
Bogs were downstairs and by this time I can feel my guts churning up a Mr. Whippy. The stairs were a supreme exercise in patience and ab control.
I get in there and there are two cubicles. Neither has paper. F*CK!
And at this point there's NOTHING I CAN DO and have to just sit down and get to cacking.
Anyway, at the end I know it's time to pay the fiddler so to speak. And all I've got is one handkerchief. Who the f**k carries a handkerchief in 1999? Me, apparently. Anyway, it was woefully underequipped for the task.
Now I know that I've got to get from there to upstairs without creating EXXON VALDEZ IN MY PANTS and all I've got left is a PACKET OF REFRESHERS. So I ditch the sweets and use the paper wrapper to just take the edge off in terms of cack reduction.
THAT WAS MY LIFE CHANGING MOMENT. Who else has had to deal with shit anus armed only with a packet of Refreshers?!
Anyway, that's me. Leaving the cubicle with a 30% sorted arse. Horrific. But my plan is to get upstairs and ask the bartender (no doubt a pretty girl for compounded embarrassment) for untold amounts of bog paper.
BUT! As soon as I got up the stairs I saw a trolley with knives, forks, condiments and A LOT OF PAPER NAPKINS!!! JAH WILL PROVIDE!
So I grabbed ALL. Took them back down to the toilet. Split them between the two cubicles and proceeded to make my anus SPARKLE. Clean arse for me and BONUS KARMA.
I go upstairs, inform the bartender that they need toilet paper down there (which is fine as I'm not going back down there so I don't look like SHITLORD) and sit down at my table. Albeit with my gf wondering why I've taken 20 minutes.
It's rough but I wish Man City every success and hope they keep winning and avoid every charge. Mainly because they're the least offensive realistic option.
If City win things, it stops Liverpool and Chelsea winning them. I don't care about City or their happiness. If it wasn't them, I'd want someone else to be doing it. I dislike City a bit less than Arsenal/Spurs/Utd tho.
Utd used to hold this role for me. Stopping Chelsea back before I realised I hated Liverpool. But I do like the fact that United fans had 25 good years and then a bunch of mediocre ones. No one deserves that level of sustained success really so f**k United. Going nuts about an FA Cup win? The same competition they didn't enter one year because it was beneath them? Yeah, okay.
But yeah, keep going City and/or anyone but Liverpool/Chelsea. Keep cheating the system if you have to. Is it fair? No. Is it good for football? No. Is football c*nt? Yes. Do I give a f**k? Not much.
MMA has been my favourite sport for the last 14 years but my fandom is waning a bit now.
Mainly because the UFC put on too many cards which means they've recruited a lot of very average fighters. So now there are a lot of events that I skip entirely because there's just zero star power to them. Also, they started doing events during Covid at a tiny venue called the UFC Apex and they still put on fights there and it's just so dead.
And when you do get a big PPV event, they keep wheeling out Donald Trump for some reason. Seeing his gormless face is really spoiling things for me.
Two moments stand out as potential life-changers/enders.
For very stupid reasons I got into a car chase (not with the police but rather with a very angry driver) in the 90s and fking luzzed it across two normally busy roads without stopping. Like proper flew out of a side road for each one before killing the lights and parking up. In my defence I didn't really know the area and so I didn't think much of it until I saw my mate's face. He wasn't afraid of anything but he said we proper used up a life that day. I'm very grateful that we didn't hurt anyone that day.
The other was equally stupid. You know when you're falling asleep and you should just stop what you're doing and go and have a rest or splash your face with water. Well, you don't think to do that because you're tired. When I woke up it was because of the rumbly things at the side of the lane on a motorway. And at that point my foot was down and I was doing 105. I think about that day sometimes.
So yeah, I'm a lot more cautious/less of a tw@t now.
I nearly always have a song playing in my head. Currently it's the intro to 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover as I've been learning the chords for it.
I like always having a soundtrack going on in there. But it can be a bit of a c*nt if a song gets in that I hate. I know it'll sound 'a bit much' but if I'm in a place and they start playing Simply Red shit I run outside and start thinking of other songs.
Weirdly, my go to earworm erasing song is the Alien Ant Farm version of Smooth Criminal.
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