My team and I have 'history' with a certain referee called Phil Crossley. He was the official responsible for the massive injustice referred to here, and to others as recently as two weeks ago when he lost control of our match against Scunthorpe. The man is an incompetent idiot who 'obviously'* has it in for my team.
So there I was at London Bridge station with Reidksi when we are spotted by one of his mates. He comes over and for some reason it gets mentioned to him that I am a Cobblers season ticket holder. Well, as a conversation stopper it usually works. Anyway, this guy says "Oh, my best mate was up there the other week reffing.....
Phil Crossley."
I really did not know what to say.
He assures me he is "A Top Bloke".
He may well be ...but he is a fucking useless referee!
* Reidski says he hasn't, but that we all make mistakes sometimes. How reasonable is that - ARGGHH!!!
#2
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A second foray into our secret cupboard and another random photo wallet
extracted. This time I will scan four selected photos and write about them.
All w...
7 hours ago
6 comments:
Why didn't you just tell this guy the truth? (or did you?)
Quite a few years back, I was staying in a large hotel during a week long job in Amsterdam. One evening in the bar I struck up conversation with the only other Englishman around. Three days passed where we share a dinner table and discuss many things of mutual interest. One evening whilst on the subject of British beer and brewing, I went into rant mode over a certain brand name of internationally renowned ale, venting my spleen with words like ‘cats’ and ‘urine’. I expressed an opinion that the MD was a ‘dozy twat’ who should get his act together and straighten the outfit out. My new friend howled with laughter which only served to fuel the flames of my discontent.
About six months later, while I was pouring over a certain Sunday glossy supplement, I was amazed to find a photo essay on the MD of that brewery. He looked incredibly familiar……..
Thank God it wasn’t me who got assigned that job.
I actually saw Phil Crossley on Sheffield station platform after he'd been reffing a Rotherham match. He was wearing a green lycra tracksuit with the legend "Tosser" on the back. He was in a passionate embrace with an assistant ref from Northampton called Julian. Do you know him? He used to be an air steward.
File under:FICTION.
You forget that refs are in fact just people and may even be likeable but for that 90 minutes and a bit afterwards on Saturdays, when they make total fuck-ups you just want them dead. Ridiculously extreme when you think about it in a sane moment.
You know my line on refs - there are no good ones and there are no bad ones, there are just referees. It's a line which infuriated a fellow Celtic fan watching a title-deciding game against the huns, in which we got beat, so much that he asked if I wanted a glass in my face! Same guy that called me a "blue-nosed cunt" btw.
Joe, I think my face said loud and clear what I was thinking without me having to actually speak.
Bao chi - ooops!!! :-)
YP, the fact that it is fiction will not stop me spreading that story.
Jim, that is what Reidski tries to make me accept.
Reidski, I am wondering of you are celebrating with that same Celtic fan right now?
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