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| Two goals in the whole of last season, though? What am I, a fucking cunt? |
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| The lyrics to 'Tears in Heaven' are rattling poignantly around my head like a lost orphan at a family picnic. Goodnight, my sweet prince. |
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| I'll think about my Carlton every time the wind blows. Every time a bird sings his song. Every time I see confusion in the eyes of a child. |
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| I've been staring at a training cone for three-quarters of an hour, sobbing. I can still smell Carlton on my scarf. Fuck me, I'm blue. |
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| It's so utterly poignant, there's a fair argument that I should commit suicide the minute I'm done. I won't, though. I'm too damn alive. |
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| I can almost see each gorgeous, sensual note as it travels luminously across the London night sky. |
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| Sitting on my balcony in the buff, playing Pachelbel's Canon on my Yamaha PSR-E433 Digital Keyboard. Fuck me, what a scene this is. |
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| Wrong. Hobos and tramps are not the same thing. |
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| "Have you not had enough?!" yelped a genuinely upset Big Sam. He didn't flinch, though. They never do. |
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| Three bites and the thing was fucking gone. But the worst bit? He licked his fucking fingers after he had finished. |
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| I've just seen a hobo eating an actual turd. Not sure if it was curled from man or beast, but he chomped it down like a fucking Picnic bar. |
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| Sir Alex Ferguson. A tribute: |
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| For now, I am West Ham United. Feast on me, my fans. Devour the tenderloin of my brilliance, and chew on the very giblets of my devotion. |
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| Contract has been signed. Madrid, Barca et al - you'll all have the opportunity to tuck into a thick, creamy slice of Big Sam in the future. |
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| no, as in a band called Real Estate, ballbag. Like I said. Remove the word 'music' from your handle at once. |
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| Prostrate cancer? Fuck me, I'm inventing fucking ailments now. I need to lie down and let that Real Estate album soothe me. I'm destroyed. |
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| Before that, however, I need to find I out what the fuck Dropbox is. |
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| But now it's time to wipe away these tears, and retrieve my legendary CV from Dropbox. |
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| Some woman from Prostrate Cancer UK was in the office with me at the time. Poor thing looked fucking terrified. |
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| Just sang 'Don't Leave Me This Way' at one of my framed pictures of Sir Alex, then drank 14 Yakults in a row. My head's all over the place. |
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