Friday, 14 May 2010
billy davies, used to be the rams manager, got us up into the premiership and bottled it, play-off final vs west brom, we won one-nil, steven pearson goal, after match interview and the bastard say's that 'he wished he had done it with preston'. that was the end really, so he goes to forest, about right really, how i laughed when they fucked up against blackpool, forest spent six million quid in their effort to get back into the prem, we are still suffering because of this twat's buy's, [claude davis?, three and a half million for a donkey who would be hard pressed to make it into a sunday league side], watched the post-match interview and already he is making excuses, do us a favour billy, just fuck right off, oh yeah, were going to do you home and away next season too you red-dog forest bastard.
friday, i have a day off, up early doors, breakfast, walk the dog's and i phone dangerous, 'what you saying?', weather forecast isn't bad so long as we keep to the east, that's it then, quick blast to skegness, we are the furthest place from the coast that you can be in england, 100 miles exactly, plan to have a bag of chips on the front then work down the eastern side of the country , into rutland, melton mowbray, wymeswold, and home, about 250 miles, no problem, round to dave's and we are soon on the way to mansfield, through the horrible bit and out onto the 617 towards newark, dangerous appears at the side of me gesticulating to pull over, we stop and i find my off-side indicator has vibrated off and is dangling by the wires, hitting the rear tyre and generally bouncing about and making a nuisance of it's self, leatherman out and it's soon bolted back on but inoperative, back on the road and the traffic is light, making good progress, 30 limit coming up, roll it off, 30 is 30, that's it, that's my unwritten rule, i don't want to be responsible for knocking a kid or pensioner over, dangerous is struggling, his bike is popping and farting, deja-vu, his bike rolls to a stop. 38 miles out, batteries flat as a fart, i diagnose regulator -rectifier, push the bike onto a pub car-park and phone the aa, couple of cups of decent coffee and the patrol bloke is with us in an hour and a half, he fast charges the battery and i phone ahead to neil at cornerspeed in sutton-in-ashfield to let him know we are on the way, we only have a short time to get back before the charge in the battery has gone.........
...........so dave is on a mission on the way back, we are approaching mansfield and there's that beautiful, long left hander, theres a twat in a mazda mx5 trying to race us, at least he's in the left-hand lane, bye, bye, dangerous brakes, i don't, into the island and i'm ahead, dangerous is at the side of me, he's gesturing to me to pull over, i take the slip road and my number plate is hanging on by one screw, both indicators are hanging off, neither are working, i tell dave to carry on to neil's, out with the trusty leatherman and the indicators are off, the number-plate follows and i stuff them down my jacket in the morrison's carrier bag that i carry my camera in in case of inclement weather, i'm soon back on the road, pull up at a set of lights, two lads in a builders van pull up next too me, 'yer number plates fell off youth', shouts one, 'yeah, i know' i shout back, into mansfield and i'm soon at neil's new workshop, dangerous makes a brew and neil is already bolting on a reg-rec out of his spares pile, apparently there was a re-call on the 1098's, the underseat pipes were frying the reg-rec's so ducati supplied a new one and some underseat thermal protection under warranty so neil has a load spare, good job really at £200 a throw, neil let's dangerous have one gratis, nice gesture that.