"He fucking IS better than Ngog"
This Be The Curse
They fuck you up, do Yeovil and Hull.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They tempt you with their lascivious pull
And then concede at quarter to.
But we were done in by the ref
By fools with old-style flags, the jokes,
Who half the match seemed fucking deaf
And half as blind as Berti Vogts
Fan hands on misery to fan
Bloated and distorted by the spring.
Forsake the Bovril and three-match bans
And take up fucking cycling.
An anthology of our rip-offs of famous poems will be available from all good bookshops in the Autumn.
Twats
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