MadDan

In order to finally bring down the stadium, club and board the anti-club brigade are holding a Squeak-a-thon before the last home game. For health and safety reasons we do request that those attending do so with a responsible adult. It is hoped that the level of noise will be such (high pitched that is) that much of the ground will crumble. A petition will be available and those attending will be urged to pick up one of the crayons and add their names to the list. Please note that joined up writing would help. The demands to be put are that the board be sacked, as is Worthington, his coaching staff and all players that he has signed. The club buys back Ashton and Francis and appoints Mike Walker as manager. The goal mouths are placed in front of the main stand and the south stand so as to allow Huckerby more space on the wing. MIdweek matches are played only in the summer when members of the protest movement can stay up later. Executive boxes are replaced by dens and the expensive restaurants are turned into tuck shops. ps if you were watching the club before we went to Cardiff, please do not turn up. You are not welcome.

As on Monday there is fair likelihood that any phone box close to Carrow Road will used as the meeting point for the anti-club''s latest protest. Organisers hope that the mass squeak caused by so many juveniles marching round Carrow Road may cause the walls to fall down. There is also high hopes that a fly past by a squadron of local pigs will be evidence of greater support. One of the leading lights in the campaign against the club, Mr Tom Daft, said " Oi ''ave bin a comin ''ere for more than two years and I think things ain''t right ". The gaggle of malcontents have a list of grievances that they will be handing in to the club. 1. Sack the bored 2. Replace the manger 3. Free entry for all 8 -14 year olds 4. Bring forward evening matches to finish before bedtime 5. .... errr, that''s it

How did your club get into that mess ?

Never understood how those surges started. Do remember sat on the grass at the back of Barclay one afternoon as the Leicester fans came round. Massive union jack and some idiot in a long white butchers coat. Otherwise it was the standard banded scarf hanging from the belt. Hundreds of them, all being put through the far turnstiles near the south stand. Next thing there''s an almighty rumpus as City fans attacked them. Not sure how there wasn''t a cordon, but after it had been sorted I found the bloke near me had the white coat. The rest of the game was nothing more than massive sideways surges as the rival fans sort to gain the advantage. Unsurprisingly, for those days, the bar reopened at half time, oblivious to the mayhem around. Policing was pretty basic as an older lad who I knew from Guist had been thrown out before the game but simply paid and got back in again. Do wonder now what it must have looked like to those in other parts of the ground as these incidents were not isolated scuffles but full scale battles. Only saving grace was that no one was seriously injured.

Atmosphere changed noticably in the 60''s. By the 70''s it was the wild west. All the guff about football violence in the 80''s was based on there being cameras to film it. Pussy cat stuff. It was a rough working class sport that reflected those times. I''ve seen mass brawls in the barclay before the segregation. Poor old plod linked arms trying to hold the fans apart. The noise was incredible. Low roof, thousands of drunken fans and everyone charged up. Beating Palace one nil to stay up. The whole ground was singing ''On the ball " Singing, not the stupid chant like stuff that sounds like a speak your weight machine doing an impression of a donkey. That night there was way way over the numbers listed. I jumped up to celebrate something and didn''t get back onto the ground for another ten minutes. The game has changed immensely. The atmosphere is dire to the point of non existent. A few years back I was in the Barclay when were were playing Pompey. We scored and I stood up, and pointing at the fat bellied bloke with the bell, started to sing " You''re not ringing anymore ". Next thing I knew two stewards had walked up and were threatening to throw me out ! Worse still I was pulled over on my way out and warned that as they had my details on record any further disturbance would mean I would be banned ! ! I don''t condone violence and I wish is was like it was in the 50''s, but somewhere we have lost an awful, awful lot of the fun.

Better to chuck a blue shirt on and pull on a pair of your mum''s bloomers and head off down to poorman rd. Fill out a handsome contract, ask sheepy to sign it and you''ll soon be getting a game.

Should really be - Who was/is the best City striker you have seen play ?

Wouldn''t it be better if citizen Paul YGB could have each of his various aliases having different characteristics ? One could be an endless moaner, eternally trying to see the negative side of things. Another one could be an upbeat chap who gets behind the team and club and wants the best for us. The other could be a chap who is a master of spelling and grammer, well perhaps that''s asking a bit much.

I''m sorry Charlie, that''s not a new contract in my pocket

Not an explanation but a worthy comment on the old method of doing things - " The last traditional, adrenaline-zapping, vomit-inducing, lifeenhancing deadline was on the blue, green or pink sports papers in the days when all football matches kicked off at 3pm on a Saturday afternoon and finished promptly at 4.40pm. It was just you and a computer against the world while editors and print managers hovered nervously behind you. I''ve seen grown men sweating like shaved pigs in a Tupperware box as that clock ticked remorselessly towards five o''clock. I''ve seen grown men cry as they noticed that a part-time copytaker had referred to "Hulking Stone Rovers" in a rugby league report. I''ve seen grown men faint after a proof reader (remember them) pointed out a rugby player waving his willy on a Page 27 team pic, long after the page had gone. " I well remember hanging around the news stand at the bottom of the old Surrey St bus station as the first pinkun''s arrived around Five O''clock. The bundle would be ripped open and handed out faster than any distribution of food to the starving. Late results in bold type on the back page and a full report on the front. Always read the report as we jolted our way out of the city, even though I had just watched the game.

I''m sorry Youseff, but it''s not what I had in mind for dress down friday

" Really? Colchester? Shrimpers? " Yep, those two have hardly set the football world alight have they. Must be awful having to put up with misery guts such as TO7. " Had a good day dear ?" "No, we beat Sheff Utd and at this rate we might end up in the play offs and that will mean more games and then we might end up having to go all the waydown to Cardiff and what''s going to happen if we win there, eh ? You tell me ? I''ll tell you. More bloody singing and cheering. More drunken idiots making a racket in my local. More of that cavorting in the street and people enjoying themselves. You don''t get that at ipswich. They sit quiet and behave themselves. Why can''t our fans be like that ? "

Hot Cross Bone. Jimmy Bone was a wonder to behold. Foggo hares down the wing, pushes one into the box and the defender just beats Bone to put it out for a corner. Bone has both fists clenched at the Barclay, screamin'' "come on ". The noise was deafening, the atmosphere electric. I was flat on my arse once with a heap of others on top when we scored at one game. Christ alone knows how there wasn''t more injuries when everyone surged forward a hundreds tumbled forward. Magic days

" I thought we played Oxford away in the Milk Cup in the 1985/86 season rather than in 1984.... " yep silly old me thanks for looking it up, I''ll sleep easier tonight

Ron Davies