On a knifes edge

I'm getting a bit worried about the last game of the season now. I've seen my Dad cry twice I think: once when his Dad died in 1992 and once in 1987 when we were relegated out of the league. On that day in 1987 I saw my Granddad cry as well. If Barnet win and we don't then 3,000-7,000 people will see me cry. That's one thing I haven't done at all recently.

I've always based my life around seasons rather than years. I remember the 97/98 season as were were promoted and I was with Mental Sophie. I remember days by who we played (the Saturday I argued with Georgi and first met the guy she left me for, we lost 3-0 away at Dagenham. Paul Green was sent off). This Saturday I probably won't want to remember.

If we lose I'm going to smash some shit up. I did it the other night, I had an old toilet in the backyard (not a gypsy just a hoarder) which I whacked fifty odd times with a little claw hammer. I did sensibly put on my PPE though as to not get hurt. I may be destructive but I'm always thinking; H&S is everyones responsiblity even if commiting a slightly mental act in rage.

I keep looking at my phone, and it doesn't have a text on it. When the last text you receive from someone ends in the words Please just go away (which I interpret as something positive) I suppose expecting something from them is a little optimistic. Odd really isn't it, I'm a pessimist with optimism in the one area I really shouldn't have. Where I should have optimism I have pe.... oh you get it.

Got some friends having a REALLY rough time at the minute, not some self induced pitying either. No this is roof over their head losing type situation. I cheered them up last night by eating some of their food and drinking my beer in their house, not before kicking the male halfs arse on FIFA. Twice. I'm all heart me. If he's lucky I'm going to let him drive me to the football on Saturday so I can get shit faced and he has to drive me home. I'll buy him a coke or two (cola, not the marching powder).

I went and voted against AV like a good little Tory today. However I didn't vote for them in the local elections as I didn't like the look of the guy on his pamphlet.... never trust a man with a moustache. Anyway the local Social Club was the hub of activity the two old guys had been there since 7am and hadn't seen a soul. Apparently I'm the only guy on my little estate that is either a: up and about at 7.30am, b: gives a shit about AV c: has a job and therefore has to vote in the morning. I reckon all three.

Do you know that we had a street party on Friday to celebrate some wedding or other, and I moved my patio furniture onto the front yard to join in: noone spoke to me or ZnK at all. Ignorant odd inbred morons. At one point a dog came across and shit on my lawn, so I stood up like Rambo on red bull (veins pumping but no AK47) and yelled 'who owns this fucking dog shitting on my lawn?' before throwing my empty bottle of Bulmers against my own house smashing it into pieces. Someone came and cleaned up, although about fifteen minutes later I passed out for ten hours on the sofa. Now everyone on the estate thinks I'm mental.

Great days.