Major Bumpkin DSO

Remember men, loose lips cost ships! LQ and her splendid Land Army gals can dig for victory and knit balaclavas.

Right men, listen up!   What has happened has happened, we are where we are. No point crying over spilt milk, time to take it on the chin, shake the dust off and regroup for the coming campaign. New battlefields, new faces, new heroes!   The time has come, men, to retake the initiative on this message board and to tell Mr von Smudger and his fellow Fifth Columnists, in no uncertain terms, that we have heard enough of their childish whining.   Unless one is a devout follower of a Big Four club (and, therefore, probably living in Southeast Asia) one simply has to accept that one’s club will not win something every season. One has to have the stomach to deal with the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune which are simply part and parcel of the game. Relegation and promotion are vital elements of the game – if can’t accept that, I suggest it’s better that you follow American McSport™ or find a new past-time more suited to your lilly-liver disposition – perhaps yoga or making corn dollied . We’ve seen Norwich City relegated plenty of times before (and will again) and the world didn’t stop turning. Ditto promotion.   So cheerio Mr Smudger, you are an odd fish aren’t you. All this faux “love” for the club, your silly little points of principle (like never going to games) and the endless gloating when your equally endless forecasts of doom come true. It is patently obvious to all but your small, sneering band of acolytes that you HATE Norwich City Football Club and its supporters. Your incessant needy, attention-craving posts suggest deeply-rooted self-esteem issues. Nothing NCFC do will ever be good enough for you, Lord Haw-Haw, so carry on your protests against us not being in the Champions League or whatever it is this week, no-one else really cares. But why bore us with your bile and vitriol? With your shared loathing of the Canaries, I’m sure you’d be greeted with open arms by the six-toed cretins at  the other end of the A140.

Derveld, I don''t believe we''ve been introduced? And stand up straight when addressing an officer!

I am champing at the bit to crush all before us. Charge!

Is this Smudger chappie some sort of Fifth Columnist? There is no room for his sort of defeatist whining! Have him tarred, feathered and thrown in the Wensum. Next!

That''s the spirit! Bring on those grimy northerners and chirpy cockernee spivs - we''ll give them the bloody nose they deserve before marching them back down the A47 and A11 with their tails between their legs.

Well said that person of the alternative gender! Are you in the Land Army, miss?

Try and stiffen that upper lip, sonny. And take off those ridiculous sunglasses - that''s an ORDER!

At ease men! The new campaign is nearly upon us and we''re going to give it a damn good go. This is a time for stout hearts and true grit. GRIT, do you hear me? Line in the sand, no man shall pass. No place for damp-eyed pansies who want to cry to their mummies about the nasty old boardy woardy. Remember, men of Norwich, your team needs YOU! Charge!