It’s official. As of yesterday, not only are Scunthorpe going to be promoted to the Championship, but they go up as winners of League One.
What do you make of that? The Wrinklies are in confusion, as I am myself, and though we’re all agreed that while it will be great to see Scunthorpe playing against the likes of Sheffield Wednesday, Norwich and maybe West Brom, we’ll have to find some new underdog to follow.
Wrinkly Joe suggests Cowdenbeath, but Wrinkly Paddy rejects that out of hand.
Scunthorpe is cold and gloomy enough, as he put it. I’m fucked if I’m going to visit an even colder, even gloomier town when I could be following some crowd from the south of France.
I’m inclined to agree with Wrinkly Paddy’s point of view. We’ll have to look around for some obscure, struggling Spanish or Italian no-hopers with a beautiful home town and a balmy climate. Any suggestions?
Anyway, that’s enough football shite.
I’m off to town to meet Jimmy Da Wop and Joe the Inquisitor. We’re going to see I’m Your Man, the Leonard Cohen movie. And then we’re going to a live gig. And no doubt we’ll all roll home shit-faced at some ridiculous hour and we’ll have to phone in sick.
Hello? Uh, hi. Look, I can’t come in. I’m sick.
Sick? Every Monday you’re sick.
But I am. I’m really sick.
Yeah? How sick are you?
I’m in bed with my mother.
But your mother is dead.
See? I told you I was sick.