Bristol City 1:1 Ipswich Town, 30/09/2025

Yes, I know we’re playing Norwich today. And this borefest is probably the last thing you want to read about on your way to ‘The Big One’. But look, I set myself a challenge to do a poem for every game. Your challenge is only to read them. You’ve got the easy side of the bargain. So let’s just get through this, then it’s over and done with and we can all move on.

This might also, perhaps, distract you from your fear for a while. I charge nothing for this service.
You’re welcome.

The Eighth Deadly Sin

Anticipation.
It’s the eighth deadly sin.
It bites you on the arse
then spits your arse in the bin.
It’s the swing of a swingy thing
that whacks you on the chin,
it’s a spillage down your best top
all done with a grin.

It comes in many flavours,
colours and layers
(especially with the temerity
to change half your players).
It’s hopeful in parts
but the falsest of starts.
It’s connections unconnected,
it’s misfiring parts.

It’s not giving seventeen yellows (McCrorie).
It’s a ref needing specs, it’s a complex story.
It’s a match that’s a yawner.
Getting done at a corner.
It’s drawing with a pen,
no open play scorer.

I could’ve watched Easteners
Do they still have Dot Cotton?
‘Cause this match was a wet patch,
a dropped catch, rotten.
A full nappy, crappy and fresh from the bottom.
An underdressed
stress test,
and probably best
forgotten.

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