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Lets not worry about the XI Lambert sends out, just rejoice in the fact that they are all fuggen stalwarts who are gonna give it the fabled 110% tonight, thats the least they can do and we''ll take it from there.

The run in. Squeaky bum time.

This is this, this aint something else. This is this.

The End Game. Judgement Night. The Thunderdome from Mad Max 3. "Two man enter one man leave" well Tina, in this case theres about 12 teams all hungry to suckle on the beautiful fat teat of promotion. ''Ol MW sadly won''t be there tonight, I''ve an appointment with a pickaxe and a concrete fireplace thats long overdue. I will be ALL OVER Radio Norfolk though, I''ll be timing each smash of the pick to co-inside with the milliseconds Goreham takes to breath (hopefully) in betwixt sensation bursts of sexual City soccer action.

I feel goals ahead. I can feel it way down in my balls. And I smell redemption for Pacheco. Not on my balls, just in the vibe of the evening air.

So. Get your FISTS in the air and stride forth into the Vicarage cauldron safe in the knowledge Our Boys will be amped and gagging to recover 3 points of pride and maybe smack some media/fools upside the head at the same time. FISTS YOU TOSSERS can you believe the first home game after Diana died Watford serenaded their benefactor with "We Love You Elton We Do" for an entire half.  You can stick that candle up your hoops.


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