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Me , L block, Paul parker, Jody and the frankie knuckles crew in forest gate nick around 8pm tommorow night after celebrating a 3-1 win and a 12 pint blow out at the home of world cup winners west Ham and Sir Trevor brooking.
L blocks the one slicing the garlic with a razor blade..
For every grain of sand on our entire planet, there are a million stars out there in space. A million stars just like our sun for every grain of sand. ...
And Where there are stars, there may be planets. And where there are planets, there may be life. And where there are West ham there are a million Elizabeth Duke belcher chain and Pringle jumper wearing chigwell dwelling c unts like my Brother in law.
3-1 the Righteous of west London, and a right royal piss up with the frankie boys tomorrow in westfield.
Mentioned this before on here so apologies but I was in the lower school end , south africa road side , with half a dozen West ham mates. Panic broke out within minutes of me getting in the ground and it was like the bridge on the star trek enterprise under photon attack from the Borg. Just an organic swirl of arms and legs in a Hellraiser meat grinder.
I recall it lasting only for a few minutes and it settling down just as quickly as it started .
I can also remember with much laughter my skinny cousin chris , now about 18 stone, being carried aloft like iggy pop doing an encore of 'i wanna be your dog' by west ham fans onto the corner of the pitch where the school end meets the south africa. We found out later that my penthouse dwelling posh aunt had heard about the trouble on Grandstand and rang the BBC in her clipped Margo from the good life tones, to enquire of his health. He still gets reminded about it till this day.
I was only 20 years old, a snake hipped, Carnabetian army bon viveur Of East ham in MASH faded denim dungarees and a Harry hill high collared fraggle rock shirt with no fear, so i quite enjoyed the experiance.
If that had happened today, At 58 years old, i would probably shit my colon out through the gusset of my sensible corduroys in stark terror.
These injuries are a great vexation to me. Would have loved to See Burrel get a chance to flex those muscular upper case quads on the open lush expanse of sod at the London stadium .
Credit to the club to keep us informed of the latest injuries.
The club are also aware im' sure, of the 9000 romantic fools, me included, attending Sundays game.
I assume that the timing and clarity of the injury news announcement it is to stop fans speculating about how seriously we are taking This FA cup game when we see the line up on Sunday, shorn of the players mentioned and bolstered with unfamiliar faces.
Fair play. Onwards and upwards to total victory on Sunday in their shiny new plastic mothercare shitpot.
I just forwarded my e mail tickets on to my son to deal with. He understands this sort of thing .
As soon as I read my e mail stating 'download your ticket once only into your apple/Google wallet' , my eyes glazed over like Sid Vicious tapping his vein in the chelsea hotel with an 8 ball of china white.
Also looking forward to presenting my papers and credentials such as my Blood group and DNA Code to various fat necked Stratford pub doorman in order to gain access into their decaying slum and then pay £8 for a pint of remedial Lager that tastes like salty piss in an erlenmeyer flask.
Even better, having to display my PSA number to a Japanese beer dispensing robot in the ground that will only accept Bit coin , Carbon credits or krugerrands for payment
In future i'd prefer the QPR box office to make out like i'm Wyatt Earp, and issue me my fackin' tickets via a Western Union transcontinental telegram.
Such a shit ground for pubs this new gaff. I can think of 20+ pubs within a 15 minute walk of Upton park back in the 80's/90's/2000's. Even 90% of them have closed trading since the move.
Probably end up just having a few in the ground at £20 a pint or whatever it is. Hopefully meet up with the Frankie Boys for good clean, family fun.
Someday I'll be somewhere near an white sand beach...
sitting on the porch in an open white william hunt 18 ounce button down shirt, sipping an Old fashioned while watching the waves crash in the moonlight as Ramsey Lewis slips into darkness from a record player in the living room.
Perhaps a service Girl of exotic stock with muscular thighs to blow enough petrol washed Bugle up my arsehole with a nesquick straw to give me bells palsy, While Ramsey shifts it up a gear on the hammond organ..
Then and only then, will i look back and fully savour what we have here. What Clive gave to Us. The last place on this salted earth of QPR brotherhood from the mouths of good men and women.
Best pub in Stratford Is the King Edward by fathoms. Best pub in Stratford for decades. Great craft beer , Jukebox , atmos and people.. tends to be avoided by the twin set cerruti 1881 clad hammer who seeks his sport at the bear pit, the carpenters arms which qpr fans should avoid at all costs.
The other boozer which i have found to be devoid of bill gardener types is the Cow, West Ham for sure, but Friendly.
I'm Just back home after 3 solid days at the Chigwell mother in laws giving me the 1000 yard stare over the north side of the 30 Pound Bronze Turkey. Spent all boxing day playing cluedo and some generic Ant and Dec board game with my elizabeth duke belcher chain wearing ex ICF brother in law who has the empathatic DNA traits of Reinhard Heydrich.
Proper arsehole. Typical West Ham. I've got less in common with that slazenger clad XR3i Clung offcut than i have with John wayne gacey.
Jo's niece is a Ballerina and Professional singer on the cruise ships ( current understudy for alexandra burke). 26 years old, 6ft tall with flaming red hair and skin like a Louis XIV ivory candlestick. She insisted on doing her aerobic exercises about 3 feet in front of me in skin tight leggings.
I could feel Jo staring at me burning a hole into my soul so i just stared ahead with a manic unflinchiing grin on my face sweating like a cccp chimp about to be shot beyond the kuiper belt in 1967 with yuri gargarin.
What a result. Great stuff lads. Off out for a Curry and several kingfishers with 'er indoors Jo.
A thumping QPR win, Chicken Bhuna and ice cold lager. You could say i'm happier than Huw Edwards at the bottom of a mcdonalds plastic ball play pen with his cock out at school chucking out time.
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