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Fish finger sandwiches at the Amex tomorrow



skipper734

Registered ruffian
Aug 9, 2008
9,189
Curdridge
In my younger days often the choice was fish fingers or the Albion. Nowadays the object of my affection in those days is often to be found in the 1901 section, with the rest of the prawn sandwich eating mob. So in a way, in 45 years things have come full circle.
 






Withdean and I

Well-known member
Aug 6, 2003
1,360
Sounds like everyone will have a WHALE of a time tomorrow!
 


Lady Whistledown

Well-known member
NSC Patron
Jul 7, 2003
47,559
Just got in. This is AMAZING news.
 






Dan Aitch

New member
May 31, 2013
2,287
All these fish puns and none about fingers. If someone started those I'd really 'dig-it'.
 
















MJsGhost

Oooh Matron, I'm an
NSC Patron
Jun 26, 2009
4,996
East
Not for me - I'm still a little CHUBBy after Christmas... It's hardly classy food anyway - more suited to those PIKEys up the road.
 










MissGull

New member
Apr 1, 2013
1,994
Had one last week at the reading game. It was tasty, but the lettuce was very soggy. The brioche bap was a nice touch.
 




CorgiRegisteredFriend

Well-known member
May 29, 2011
8,371
Boring By Sea
They had run out at the Reading game but such was the thought of fish fingers in a bap that I made some when I got home. Delicious!
 






MJsGhost

Oooh Matron, I'm an
NSC Patron
Jun 26, 2009
4,996
East
As I walked towards the Amex under GRAYLING skies, my thoughts returned to the night before. Was it a BREAM, or had my BARBEL really been over a hundred SQUID? I was meeting friends who should be well PLAICEd to fill in the meMORAY gaps – RAY and JOHN DORY. I had to get my SKATEs on – RAY is an intelligent man (a brain STURGEON no less), but his COD psychology explanations for my eternal lateness were often embaWRASSEing. ForTUNAtely, we all arrived at the same time.

We headed towards our PERCH in the stands (ROE W, which has a BIRDSEYE view of the GRASS.) CARP all you like about the atmosphere at our home, but the view of the pitch is always BRILLiant. Halfway up, we stopped in our tracks. The sTENCH of fish filled our nostrils as a GROUPER PIKEys encROACHed on our personal DACE, each with a fish finger sandwich pressed to their CHUBBy maw. Yum, I thought. See you in a MINNOW, I said to the lads. If you’re GURNARD queue up, can you grab us one too, asked RAY. 10 minutes later, I was GUTTED. The fingers were entirely different – one raw and as cold as the ARCTIC, CHARred and dry like the GOBY desert, the other. And the BREAD? CRUMBS, it was like the SOLE of my shoe! RUDDy hell, I said. I’ll either get SALMONella from the fish, or break my JAWS on the bread!

You’re a DAB-hand at complaining, said John – why not write to Paul BARBEL? This could be the biggest issue since the HUSS over that BROWN TROUT in the away dressing room! Don’t feel GILLty about telling him aTROUT it – EEL want to know and you’ll feel BATTER for WHITING the letter.
So I did. Then I logged into NSC to talk about it on the ‘NET.

FIN.
 
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