Who am I kidding, I can’t hold a grudge. Life’s not black and white, and the inflexibility here saddens me.
If he knocked on my door cause his motors got a flat not only would I help him change the tyre but I’d invite him in for a plate of my world famous spag bol!
He followed the money.. meh...
Going through the attic and some old football books.
This is from ‘The big book of football champions’ 1956, I think.
Packed themselves in back then, didn’t they.
A similar score would be nice on thurs.
Big fan of the Icelandic style chanting. A guttural swelling, building momentum. The sort of noise terrified villagers would hear just beyond the hilltop, dancing horned shadows in the torchlight! Death approaching!!
That sort of thing.
MIT-oooo-Ma! Slowly. Foot stamping in time to each...
It’s beyond pathetic. Laughable. Puerile. Absurd. Pointless. Designed to separate. Any journalist associated should consider the epic meaningless of their output. End of discussion.
Substitute Righteousness for, say humankind. Change Satan into an extraterrestrial threat - pretend he’s the president of the whole world and that is a pretty reasonable performance.
Sadly it’s a misguided fool inciting religious war, blood in the streets, chaos and stupidity.
His daughter must...