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The kids are still on their pie and pint then. Half time is where it's at, and Gully ain't there.

I've had my loosener rant, now for the main event. Someone needs to have a word with that feckin seagull, he's getting to big for his boots. Him and his **** drinking crack whore strumpet, need to pull their fracking wings out and get their rancid a***s round to the family stand. Gully seems...