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Provisionally titled "Flowing Moves" (the series, not this match which was anything but). But I'm open to suggestions.
No.1: Birmingham City 1-1 Ipswich Town, 08/08/2025...
A new season dawned of an evening with a din that would spin the undead. It’s doubtful we’d choose this story of two blues and our tactics seemed easily read.
Electric Kyogo bounced round like a pogo. Stick Stansfield up top, feed the goat. But his shots were just curled All Around The World or as scuffed as Omari’s sore throat.
With O’Shea now O’nnointed but the tractors disjointed, the cauldron grew spikes like a thistle. Their team buzzed within, like flies round a bin, working hard as the referee's whistle.
The odd burst from Hirst, but left starved and with thirst and the newer Matusiwa off pace. It was gritty and bitty, only Greaves’ hair was pretty. Poor Johnson; all will and no grace.
No appetite whetter, and the restart no better. The hosts hit the post and lashed in. Like Viagra we’d grow, just with no sucker-blow And Brum slowed like a nan on the gin.
Old Young cramping styles eating inches like miles, the ball curled like a pearl to a hand. A pen cheaper than Lidl, but dispatched down the middle. George gorged on the grief in the stand.
A makeshift Town nearly drowned in the sound of the rust falling off every joint. Way short of our groove, but let’s soothe, we’ll improve from this smash ’n’ grab car crash of a point.
Trust the process. Trust Phil.
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First in a new series of things nobody asked for - Poetry Match Reports on 14:09 - Aug 10 with 622 views
poetry's not really my thing but i quite liked that.
And so as the loose-bowelled pigeon of time swoops low over the unsuspecting tourist of destiny, and the flatulent skunk of fate wanders into the air-conditioning system of eternity, I notice it's the end of the show
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First in a new series of things nobody asked for - Poetry Match Reports on 14:15 - Aug 10 with 584 views
They were wound up, we were not And Lo! They scored a first That warm bubble didn't last Thanks to our striker Hirst
Ah Birmingham, a team neglected By Brady they were resurrected And promotion was expected But it was pyrites they prospected
One point, it's true , is no disaster Their temperaments should be their master And fans who mither, join a cast 'o' Thousands who will punch out faster
Tomato faces, wreathed in hates Blue shirts, cheap jeans and cocaine mates Slick stadia, money, more ingrates Let's see how time affects our fates.
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