Well, what a strange one just now!
Last night I dreamt we were in the FA cup Final against Newcastle at St.James', a bit weird seeing as it's played at Wembley. Fancied a pre-match pint so wandered to a pub named the Torch, it was the same pub as the Torch at Wembley. Bizarre. Got to the Torch to find out it had changed into a fancy disco bar with no fans to be seen. Disgruntled as I was I left.
Set off for the match, got inside the ground to be greeted by a smoking area inside, a bit like a gentlemen club. Full length sofas with old men smoking pipes. (Again, WTF
)
With KO approaching I attempted to find the entrance to the stand, which I did. Once getting there, I was alone, in the concourse, singing Sweet Carroll 9. Wondering where the hell is everybody? Set off to my seat which was in the lower tier (This is where is gets even more strange) I get to my seat, look around, and noticed I was infact, at Wembley. Block 111 row 25 behind the goal, my CC final seat. The game started and somehow Newcastle had signed Van Persie from Arsenal who dived like a c*nt to get Carroll sent off, but no pen was given
Que everybody up in arms, but then, as if by magic, I was on row 1. My seat snapped from anger. I took this out on RVP, and of all things to throw at him, a box of cereal. Yes, I threw a box of cereal at Robin Van Persie! They then went 1-0 of a corner, Pepe was nowhere to be seen. Kenny took him off and replaced him with, Luis Garica, I mean, what the actual fuck is going on here
By HT they were 3-0 down, all I could think of was 2005. The people around me, disgusted with the officials decisions went in pursuit of the linesman. Swinging at him with the odd right hook, after all it was him who flagged for the Carroll 'foul'.
Ok, so we are 3-0 down against Newcastle in the FA Cup Final at half time. We've been in tougher places, against tougher teams with a lesser squad and still won. Keep the faith! So what does the dream do next? Yep, I wake up in my Sixth Form common room with everybody jeering at me saying how shite we are
Second half begins and we pull a goal back (in a similar fashion to the one last week). Then a second is netted and everyone turns a little more quiet, by this time it is time for lessons. How that is possible on a Saturday evening I'll never know! So we leave the TV playing, whilst we are 3-2 down pressing for a third and I have to go to a lesson! Checked the score at the end of the lesson and we have won 4-3, with 10 men and little Luis Garcia in goal.
I then woke up, logged on here and wrote this. I mean seriously
WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL!