All this weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth is all well and
good cathartic but how do we and indeed will we take steps to …get a new plan, Stan? My fear is that Citizen Redschnapps is mentally in Hitler’s bunker right now.
The pity me routine has worn thin/been exhausted with the fans because the bulk of us aren’t mentally retarded. The squad isn’t awful. Sure, it’s serving up relatively awful performances, but then if you give a chimpanzee the finest ingredients known to mankind and the best kitchen to cook in, the odds are you will be chowing down on a takeaway while vets try to save the ape.
There is talk from our tight lipped supremo of winning as many of our remaining games as possible. Commendable stuff. If of course, your motor neurons fire at the same speed as a marble rolling through a tray of thickened paint.
The crucial element absent from this Lollypop Land equation is a wee thing called form. So let’s swerve naivety and not just look at our own, shall we? Ought we dare?
We face [in chronological order] QPR, Blackburn, Bolton, Villa, Fulham. Villa and Blackburn and Bolton lurk like bottom feeders, nestled in the drop zone. Blackburn’s current form reflects their season. It’s ‘roadkill’ and they are going down with t’Wolves.
Bolton’s form quite possibly guided by the hand of a higher being of course, appears to be resurgent. Better than Sunderland, than Norwich, than West Bromwich Albion.
Then onto the wounded animals.
QPR is at Loftus Road, the venue of 3 wins from their last 6. Away, they suck badly. This is a piece of professional analytical terminology I do not expect all of you to be savvy with.
Fulham could be a another skin de banane. Fancy Big Martin Jol not wanting to ruin our Champions League Parade, at The Lane?
Please, let me be your bookie.