Just think, a fat has been who hasn't done anything in years, who is best known for scoring winners against your toilet of a club comes on, after months and months in the wilderness, eating crisps and sunning himself and scores another winner, after winding you up and starting a fight with one of your players. It must really hurt. It makes me like Gabby a little bit knowing how much he hurts them.
The rags are hilarious. Their ground which is a spittoon of humanity, their support, away following which you could fit on a number 11 bus, ball bag badge, Paul Tait, 15 match legends, the Jasper Carrot suite which is like something from Pheonix Nights, being owned by Dildo salesmen then the richest hairdresser in the world and then by someone who sacks a manager to replace him with 90's toy Troll Zola, even Robbie Savage knowing they are shit and manufacturing an escape to BLACKBURN, fuck me, Blackburn. Their entire support being turned in to some kind of mental, chip on their shoulder obsessed morlocks after spending their whole history in our shadow devoid of light or attention. A stand that is on the brink of collapsing on to a railway line, a stand that looks like it's been made of wood at the turn of the century, pitch invasions by them by blokes holding Tesco carrier bags and wearing a stained vest. The Leyland Daf cup. Still managing to lose to arguably the shittest side in our history. We could go on and on, they are an embarrassment and a figure of fun in equal measure.
Long may they continue!
