Fuck weekends

I got to stand in the crowds at Kenilworth Road on friday night and watch AFC Wimbledon put in a piss-poor performance against Luton Town.

This was duly followed by a train journey home in which a 14 year old shit bag who I am ashamed to know supports my club went out of his way to piss me off until I uttered the words "Look cunt, I'm above punching a child in the face but you're fucking pushing it!".

Big mistake. We all know the last thing you want to do with a cocksuck of a kid is encourage it. This means the entire trip back to South London, while already drunk and depressed, became a challenge in social morality. I still don't know how I passed.


Throw into this an argument with the missus whose in a strop because plans SHE made on MY behalf without fucking speaking to me first clash with plans I already have. Waking up Saturday with that to deal with was a big enough arsehole, then we have an entire weekend of football results playing right into Chelsea's decrepid and corrupt little lap, the girlfriend war raging until the wee hours of this morning, and just as everything gets wrapped up in a neat little package, Monday morning is already fucking here. Fucking weekends. Liberty-taking wind up merchants is all they are.

Overall my lessons of the last few days have been:

1. Any football match that involves me being on a train out of London in early afternoon, AFC are guaranteed to lose
2. Punching children isn't necessarily wrong
3. Bitches be crazy
4. Liverpool can always be relied upon for some light relief
5. Luton is a fucking horrible place to spend even a moment of your life
6. The locals up that way DO NOT LIKE away fans singing their team's anthems in the locals' pubs
7. There's a Luton fan called Charlie whose about 9 years old. We met him and his dad at the pub. In another 9. years Charlie WILL be head of a hooligan firm. That kid had bollocks on him!
10. Wrtiting things in list form is fucking stupid.