Liverpool FC Forum

[Lando_Griffin]

7.20am: The dreaded twang of the alarm goes off, waking me from a particularly un-erotic dream about cabbages. An unearthly fart escapes from the welcome warmth of my bed. As I yawn, I can see my breath hanging in the air.

The heating is off, which means it's cold. Ridiculously cold. The kind of cold that makes you want to jump head-first into a Volcanic eruption, just to get some feeling back in your toes. The type of cold that toys with your nipples, and makes them capable of cutting glass. With a display of effort far beyond that known as superhuman, I manage to leave the sanctity of my lovely warm bed (complete with a girlfriend who's Wilderbeast-esk snores belie her ladylike demur), turn off the alarm, and shake myself furiously into my Liverpool top. As I open the door, I tell my girlfriend to wake up, and then retire to the bathroom to think.

8am: Fresh from a good "think", I prepare breakfast and shimmy into a pair of jeans and a coat not dissimilar to those favoured by Arctic explorers. It is still cold, but finally the feeling is returning to my once frozen anatomy.

8.20am: Time to go outside. In a moment of madness, I attempt to do so without a woolly hat on, but am beaten back by the threat of hypothermia, frostbite, and passing Polar bears. I re-asses my attire, and once again step outside. Dodging the oncoming Husky-sleighs carrying Eskimo hunting parties, I make it to the car in double-quick time.
Now, you would think that the coldest places on Earth would be found atop a Mountain range, or somewhere in the Arctic circle, perhaps. Maybe even in a custom-built laboratory. You certainly would not think that temperatures of -1200 degrees celcius could be achieved in an average-sized family hatchback, but I assure you - they can.

After the initial heart-stopping shock of this unwitting discovery, I manage to remember how my fingers work, and turn the ignition key to glorious effect. As the engine revs into life, a certain sense of satisfaction washes over me;

Man against the elements. And I'd won.

The journey to the petrol station took far longer than an average fetal gestation, on account of my unwillingness to leave my now Sahara-like environ. Before I could build up the courage to depart said environ, I discovered two things: 1. There is no safe way of sleeping whilst driving, and 2. The fuel gauge in my car is faulty.
After pushing my car up what felt like an 18th Century Mountain pass, I finally arrived at the station, fuelled up, and set off for Newcastle.

Several hours later, and after forking out £10 for parking to some garage attendant bearing an identity name-tag which read "Richard Turpin", we abscond towards the park of Saint James, via a burger-stand. Quite tasty it is, too. After acquiring a copy of "RAOTL", we make our way to our seats.
Now - I don't wish to make that sound like an easy feat. On the contrary, we passed numerous people in the latter-stages of terminal exhaustion on those steps. Previously fit-and-healthy young men and women gasping for breath as a combined result of hither-to unencountered high altitude, and heart failure. Several flights before the summit, we encountered a tearful Golden Eagle with the bends being comforted by the crew of the International Space Station.
Never-the-less, we make it to our seats, and sit amongst a group of gristly men giving praise to the Lord that they made it, too.
The match kicks off, and several rousing choruses of "Rafa Benitez" prove the traveling Kop's support for our under-fire boss. Once Gerrard hits the latest addition to the "Goal of the season" competition, simultaneously ceasing the Newcastle boos , and instigating our rendition of "Steve Gerrard, Gerrard", the rest, as they say, is history.
The biggest suprise of the day was the Newcastle fans, muted in everything but their boos for Fat Sam and his "big fat head", as we Liverpool fans added.

"Toon Army"? More like "Toon Librarians"...

[account deleted by request]

          Great read again mate

[Forever_Red]

Class Lando

[LittleHobo]

whatcha talking bout willis?

[Judge]

7.20am: The dreaded twang of the alarm goes off, waking me from a particularly un-erotic dream about cabbages. An unearthly fart escapes from the welcome warmth of my bed.

that'll be the cabbages mate 

[Lando_Griffin]

7.20am: The dreaded twang of the alarm goes off, waking me from a particularly un-erotic dream about cabbages. An unearthly fart escapes from the welcome warmth of my bed.

that'll be the cabbages mate 

No - it definitely had the aroma of lettuce...

[Judge]

7.20am: The dreaded twang of the alarm goes off, waking me from a particularly un-erotic dream about cabbages. An unearthly fart escapes from the welcome warmth of my bed.

that'll be the cabbages mate 

No - it definitely had the aroma of lettuce...

does lettuce have an aroma