Curious Orange
Punxsatawney Phil
Had this forwarded to me by a Palace supporting mate of mine. Must have taken a while to write, which kind of implies that they must love us really.
Choose Brighton and Hove Albion
Choose laughable arrogance.
Choose winning two lower league championships in 3 years and acting like you've won a European trophy.
Choose being relegated the very next season.
Choose the most contrived, up-his own-arse, most commercially sold out DJ for a 'celebrity' spokesman.
Choose the most disloyal manager in football because the previous three all left when they found out what a useless club it was.
Choose deckchairs.
Choose playing at a ground that slopes up toward the corner flag, for a hundred years, in the forlorn hope it will give you an advantage.
Choose running away at Haywards Heath.
Choose 99% of your fan base from the inbred rural English middle classes, provincial urban chav’s, and local media has-been’s.
Choose losing your best player in 20 years to an underachieving premiership club who dump him on West Ham after 6 months when they realise he's cr*p.
Choose kicking a non-league club out of their home ground while you search for your new one.
Choose pink streaks for an away kit
Choose a chairman who's name sounds like a dodgy gay porno movie.
Choose carrier bags.
Choose a beach covered in glass.
Choose kicking over flower pots outside a florists to look hard.
Choose not meeting your arch rivals for 13 years, going on and on about how you were going to exact revenge, and then lose 5-0 the very next time you play them.
Choose a disgusting bloated cr*p eating seabird that everyone hates as your club mascot.
Choose making umpteen lists of reasons why your club needs a new ground and then admit you didn’t go for a few years in the 1990's when they were bottom of division three.
Choose mocking your arch rivals failures despite the fact that for the last 15 years those failures happened at least one division higher than the one you were playing in.
Choose broken glass and p*ssing in the sea.
Choose the dirtiest beaches in Sussex.
Choose a city run by people who weren't born there.
Choose a city owned by people who weren't born there.
Choose calling it London-On-Sea.
Choose calling your city 'the place to be' when for the last three years its been top twice and second once in England and Wales for the number of drug deaths per capita.
Choose mocking your arch rivals for their record defeat 14 years ago, when you haven’t even scored against them since the Berlin Wall came down, and Margaret Thatcher was Prime Minister.
Choose the joint biggest cup final defeat in half a century.
Choose your arch-rivals rejects and past heroes as managers and first team players.
Choose changing your nickname just because your arch rivals have.
Choose banging on about how your club's 'rightful' place is in the Premiership when it's never even been there and has only ever been in the top division for four seasons in its entire century long history.
Choose being in a higher division than your arch rivals for just 5 seasons out of 85 when even 2 of those were down to league restructuring.
Choose being AT LEAST one division lower than your arch rivals for 30 seasons out of 85.
Choose being so far behind your arch rivals for so long that it would take a lifetime to catch up.
Choose Comet, Toys R Us, JBB Sports.
Choose Nathan Jones in pink trainers.
Choose bitterness.
Choose second hand gloating.
Choose being called a ‘’footballing backwater’’ by one of your own managers.
Choose inflicting over a century of garbage on English football fans.
Choose insignificance, inability, mediocrity, banality, irrelevance, and woeful finishing when it really matters.
Choose Mark Lawrenson.
Choose Des Lynam.
Choose Papa Smurf.
Choose Seaweed

Choose Brighton and Hove Albion

Choose laughable arrogance.
Choose winning two lower league championships in 3 years and acting like you've won a European trophy.
Choose being relegated the very next season.
Choose the most contrived, up-his own-arse, most commercially sold out DJ for a 'celebrity' spokesman.
Choose the most disloyal manager in football because the previous three all left when they found out what a useless club it was.
Choose deckchairs.
Choose playing at a ground that slopes up toward the corner flag, for a hundred years, in the forlorn hope it will give you an advantage.
Choose running away at Haywards Heath.
Choose 99% of your fan base from the inbred rural English middle classes, provincial urban chav’s, and local media has-been’s.
Choose losing your best player in 20 years to an underachieving premiership club who dump him on West Ham after 6 months when they realise he's cr*p.
Choose kicking a non-league club out of their home ground while you search for your new one.
Choose pink streaks for an away kit
Choose a chairman who's name sounds like a dodgy gay porno movie.
Choose carrier bags.
Choose a beach covered in glass.
Choose kicking over flower pots outside a florists to look hard.
Choose not meeting your arch rivals for 13 years, going on and on about how you were going to exact revenge, and then lose 5-0 the very next time you play them.
Choose a disgusting bloated cr*p eating seabird that everyone hates as your club mascot.
Choose making umpteen lists of reasons why your club needs a new ground and then admit you didn’t go for a few years in the 1990's when they were bottom of division three.
Choose mocking your arch rivals failures despite the fact that for the last 15 years those failures happened at least one division higher than the one you were playing in.
Choose broken glass and p*ssing in the sea.
Choose the dirtiest beaches in Sussex.
Choose a city run by people who weren't born there.
Choose a city owned by people who weren't born there.
Choose calling it London-On-Sea.
Choose calling your city 'the place to be' when for the last three years its been top twice and second once in England and Wales for the number of drug deaths per capita.
Choose mocking your arch rivals for their record defeat 14 years ago, when you haven’t even scored against them since the Berlin Wall came down, and Margaret Thatcher was Prime Minister.
Choose the joint biggest cup final defeat in half a century.
Choose your arch-rivals rejects and past heroes as managers and first team players.
Choose changing your nickname just because your arch rivals have.
Choose banging on about how your club's 'rightful' place is in the Premiership when it's never even been there and has only ever been in the top division for four seasons in its entire century long history.
Choose being in a higher division than your arch rivals for just 5 seasons out of 85 when even 2 of those were down to league restructuring.
Choose being AT LEAST one division lower than your arch rivals for 30 seasons out of 85.
Choose being so far behind your arch rivals for so long that it would take a lifetime to catch up.
Choose Comet, Toys R Us, JBB Sports.
Choose Nathan Jones in pink trainers.
Choose bitterness.
Choose second hand gloating.
Choose being called a ‘’footballing backwater’’ by one of your own managers.
Choose inflicting over a century of garbage on English football fans.
Choose insignificance, inability, mediocrity, banality, irrelevance, and woeful finishing when it really matters.
Choose Mark Lawrenson.
Choose Des Lynam.
Choose Papa Smurf.
Choose Seaweed
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