As if ya all didnt notice i have been posting more than usual in the pre season. Ma achilles was ruptured and i have sidled up the stairs on ma feckin erse 4-5 times a day to basically wind up as many feckers as I could..after a cup of Earl Gey of course.  :015: :015: :015:

That all stops now cos we are down to the serious business. We have to ignore all the behind the scene shyte and get rite behind the lads..HOME and Away.

INVERNESS CALEY THISTLE TILL I DIE... BRING IT FECKIN ON

O2B  :015: :015: :015: :015:

You might even get Footballer's Wife to venture onto the main forum with a thread title like that!  :015:

One day the inimitable Scarlet will go to a game with the irrepressible IHE --and probably will wind up being  thrown out by the unbearable stewards in an impossible scenario of "it wisnae us, it wiz they guys doon the front....."

This followed by an unexpected protest to the ref followed by an unctuous apology from the Management all of which will be understandably unpopular furra reason that the baying crowd needs someone to blame when the game on ra park is so boring that the great unwashed gets uppity and needs to point a finger at someone just  to start a right-down -regular rammy to lighten up their pathetic lives.

Meantime, back at the ranch, the pious pair will have slipped under the stand un-noticed , unloved and in their undies--the understanding being that the outer raiment was ripped off in an uncharacteristic fracas of the survival of the fittest  won by the old farts just in the nick of time by wily guile which trumped youthful aggression. The opposition having mounted a full frontal attack with a view to re-arranging said old forts' attire with a view to encouraging full frontal nudity.

The final curtain will come down on a scene of utter bewilderment with the occupants of "the under the stand" being cosseted by the ICT lady fans with soothing whimpers of "there, there, boys, stop your nervous twitchings ; it's all over now bar the shouting...Er..and there is plenty of that up above".

Aye ,and the ref had lost total control with the players having got the whiff of something and throwing  themselves into the melee;  the Managers of the respective clubs were hammering each other with their billiard balls wrapped in their powder puffs inside their hankies, the linesmen were on their cells phoning the cops who had long ago decided that discretion was the better part of valour and were phoning the Super to say that the traffic lights 100 metres from the ground had stuck and delayed their entry to the park.

Then the linesmen got a whiff of the same something which later turned out to be IHE's dried tea leaves being surreptitiously smoked in a Meerscham pipe by the Squirrel in the bog under the stand, tried to trample the Squirrel to get at the stuff and were prevented from doing real damage by the same ladies administring to the prostrate oldies because they could not bear to allow damage to anything soft and fluffy bearing in mind that squirrels were already dying out in the U.K.

Everybody escaped relatively unscathed and later mused that it had been a great match give or take a few heart-stopping moments and a few bruises ...

Well, that's my cuppa tea finished and I am off to sleep off the effects.

Wheest, IHE, send me the recipe soon willya?... 'till the next  :015:time......eh?

Dearest Bum Pimple where have you been?? Only you and IHE make this Forum worthwhile, I Cromarty, took a break when I get fed up of  LQ of quoting ' I've just been doon to the stadium' and Bannerblaws spouting about The Scala chip shop or whatever, glad to see back old boy and unctious??? I await dear IHE's response with glee.