Sheffield Wednesday V Brentford OMDT

[Adem Poric]

They should have been out of sight against the Pigs when they played them at the Lane and they should have hammered Villa at their gaff too on Saturday.

 

I'm just hoping their luck doesn't change tonight.

[BRADDO]

7 minutes ago, Adem Poric said:

They should have been out of sight against the Pigs when they played them at the Lane and they should have hammered Villa at their gaff too on Saturday.

 

I'm just hoping their luck doesn't change tonight.

Spot on. We need to be on it tonight and hopefully not too many changes by Carlos.  The poor weather tonight may also be a big leveller 

[Ethel The Tree]

51 minutes ago, Holmowl said:

 

Look at the side we played when we beat Brum and Blackburn at home last season, then the much-tinkered side that played the next home v Brentford.

 

He switched from 2 CMs to 3

He switched BB from centre to wide

He switched from two wingers to one

He switched from to strikers to 1+FF

 

And he switched wins to a loss.

 

The play-off final....3 changes, only one thru injury. 

 

Loves a tinker our Carlos.

 

Still, it was a game we should never have lost

 

Stormy conditions blowing towards the kop did us no favours

Their first, wind-assisted cross, header balloons over Westwood

That soon after one of their defenders opts against tackling Nando in the box and sits on him instead -  no pen!

Their second, poor defending from a corner - then again, Tom Lees was sorely missed

 

Second half, pretty much one-way traffic and had any of a number of good chances gone in then I reckon we'd have won the game long before Nando's 'consolation'

 

If the weather is bad tonight, I hope we get to choose ends and start with the wind at our backs this time

[Holmowl]

35 minutes ago, steelcityowlsfan said:

I suspect this will be our team tonight:

 

Westwood

 

Palmer Lees Van Aken Reach

 

                    Jones

Boyd                               Bannan

 

                   Butterfield

 

              Hooper   Rhodes

 

Ideally there won't be these 4 changes.

 

But, the great thing about the above line-up is how seamlessly it should follow on from Saturday. The changes are round pegs for round holes, made by injured round pegs.

 

Of course, Baz is RB tonight, and Joao RW.

[full fathom five]

56 minutes ago, steelcityowlsfan said:

I suspect this will be our team tonight:

 

Westwood

 

Palmer Lees Van Aken Reach

 

                    Jones

Boyd                               Bannan

 

                   Butterfield

 

              Hooper   Rhodes

I also think this is the way Carlos will go.

[TheEnchanter]

The bees are due a win but they can buzz off until Saturday.

[sheffix]

I know our local journos should say it as they see it but have got the feeling lately that they have it in for Carlos. Here's Chris Holt predicting a Brentford win on their website. https://www.brentfordfc.com/news/2017/september/opposition-view-sheffield-wednesday/

He could at least fake blind loyalty.

Then there's HTFC's own doommonger in chief.

Oh for the days of Paul Thompson.

[pazowl55]

Don't see Carlos putting Boyd in a diamond. 

If hunt Wallace Lee and Fletcher all don't make it then think we line up like this.

 

                 Westwood 

Palmer  lees   van Aken   Pudil 

Boyd    Jones   Bannan   Reach 

           Hooper    Rhodes

[Holmowl]

14 minutes ago, TheEnchanter said:

The bees are due a win but they can buzz off until Saturday.

 

With Reach on the wing, putting in a honey of a cross, we won't get stung tonight.

[Lord Snooty]

4 hours ago, belfast owl lad said:

so what did/didn't happen on your honeymoon m'lud?

 

The whole day is both a blur and searingly sharp at the same time. There's a vagueness. A fugg, where my brain has tried to block it out. But I have flashbacks. Lurid dreams. Sometimes I hear the voices. My own voice. Weeping.

She’d started to let herself go long before the actual wedding of course, which was as much a family convenience as anything else. 

My last clear and happy memory of the morning was being stood there in topper and tails. My Best man at my side.  It was a dark day. As night had swept away at day break it was a milky sun that rose low in the winter sky as I ate my last breakfast.  Soon the winds blew in and  ashen clouds gathered over the church yard.  Stood there in the cool air I heard the distant rumble.  At first I thought it was thunder. But as it drew nearer I knew she had arrived,  when the floor beneath my feet and the foundations of that old place of worship started to shake I knew for sure she was here.

 

The meal and drinks went by in a flash. I tried to consume as much as I could in an attempt to make sure my pink Oboe would be unplayable when the time came. 

With the last lingering guests gone and no more chance to delay I made the slow walk up the grand stair.  I looked up. Looking for inspiration and saw the portraits of My ancestors looking down on me pityingly

I remember standing outside the large oak door which led to the bed chamber.  I leant my forehead against it and leant there for what must have been an age ,wishing that somehow I could stay there forever and never enter.

 

 

When I did go in the room was dark ,lit only bit flickering candle light the embers of the fire were still glowing in the dark.  Then I saw the shadow. Large stretched across the wall like a spreading inkblot.  In the flickering orange light it reminded me of the footage of the Hindenburg making its last decent.  Then the voice “Are you ready?” I wasn’t.  I could never be ready.  Fear grasped my heart and  mankinds ancient instinct for survival kicked in and despite a litre of Jamesons’ I was sobered.

 

 

The next thing I knew there the light vanished and I was surrounded by darkness as the shape moved across the candle light eclipsing all the light.   I felt a sharp pain in my chest as if I had been attached to a meat hook and realised with horror it was one of her hands.  With violent force she threw me through the curtains that surrounded the bed.  The wafted back soflty into position as I scrabbled backwards up the bed.  Until my head struck the headboard sending flashes of white light coursing through my brain.

As my eyes refocussed I saw the shadow of two giant hands part the curtains, they were drawn  aside and revealed her.

There she was at the end of the bed. And then slowly, as only things of that size can, she started edging towards me on her knees, animal hunger in her malevolent, black, greedy eyes.  She had, horrifically, rammed herself into a corset.  Her gargantuan breasts hung down over the suspender belt like two bin bags of damp washing

 

 

Before I knew is she was upon me. The fear surged through me.  I kicked frantically trying to knock over the bedside candle and hope beyond hope that it might set fire to the curtain and save me or at least end both our lives!  My heart sank when it toppled to the floor and went out without catching anything on the way. I heard it roll to a stop on the wooden floor. 

Then I heard her. Close to my ear. “Aww silly, don’t be shy” she said in a voice as soothing as serial killer trucker telling you that you are in his favourite seat.   She grabbed my hand and forced it up to feel her face in the darkness. My trembling fingers were forced along its harsh surface and an image of Bill Beaumont flashed into my mind.  

Then I felt her hand on my face, smothering my nostrils till breath was barely possible. Then her huge finger in my mouth, like a clammy uncooked thick Richmond sausage. I gag recalling the horror even now. The hand covered my face.  This was what it must have been like in Alien with the beast clamped over your face.  I struggled for breath. Thought my life was at an end. But then gave into it… deciding death would be better than staying alive, and I let myself go to the darkness.

 

 

I woke in the morning feeling weak.  I wasn’t dead. The bed space beside me was empty, I turned to look and fell down into the crater where she had slept.  After 10 hard minutes I had managed to crawl up and out of it and fell in a heap to the floor. Where I realised my legs didn’t work. It was over. For now. I had survived.

I recovered eventually and learned to walk again with the aid of a stick.

Edited September 12, 2017 by Lord Snooty

[sMacLean]

Going to be a very close game, a win over Brentford these days is a very well earned result.Wouldn't be overly happy with just a point as we're at home but if it keeps our unbeaten run going it might not be all that terrible in the whole scheme of things.We have to start well again tonight.

[waddleisgod]

I hope the only change is Rhodes for Fletch but I reckon there will be at least 3 changes unfortunately 

[Adem Poric]

23 minutes ago, sheffix said:

I know our local journos should say it as they see it but have got the feeling lately that they have it in for Carlos. Here's Chris Holt predicting a Brentford win on their website. https://www.brentfordfc.com/news/2017/september/opposition-view-sheffield-wednesday/

He could at least fake blind loyalty.

Then there's HTFC's own doommonger in chief.

Oh for the days of Paul Thompson.

 

We've definitely suffered from the loss of Dan Hutchinson.

[poite]

Is that an ice-berg or The Amazing SWFC Cake Ball?

[WalthamOwl]

2 minutes ago, waddleisgod said:

I hope the only change is Rhodes for Fletch but I reckon there will be at least 3 changes unfortunately 

 

Would guess Fletcher, Lee and Wallace may be rested.

[Ethel The Tree]

19 minutes ago, Lord Snooty said:

 

The whole day is both a blur and searingly sharp at the same time. There's a vagueness. A fugg, where my brain has tried to block it out. But I have flashbacks. Lurid dreams. Sometimes I hear the voices. My own voice. Weeping.

She’d started to let herself go long before the actual wedding of course, which was as much a family convenience as anything else. 

My last clear and happy memory of the morning was being stood there in topper and tails. My Best man at my side.  It was a dark day. As night had swept away at day break it was a milky sun that rose low in the winter sky as I ate my last breakfast.  Soon the winds blew in and  ashen clouds gathered over the church yard.  Stood there in the cool air I heard the distant rumble.  At first I thought it was thunder. But as it drew nearer I knew she had arrived,  when the floor beneath my feet and the foundations of that old place of worship started to shake I knew for sure she was here.

 

The meal and drinks went by in a flash. I tried to consume as much as I could in an attempt to make sure my pink Oboe would be unplayable when the time came. 

With the last lingering guests gone and no more chance to delay I made the slow walk up the grand stair.  I looked up. Looking for inspiration and saw the portraits of My ancestors looking down on me pityingly

I remember standing outside the large oak door which led to the bed chamber.  I leant my forehead against it and leant there for what must have been an age ,wishing that somehow I could stay there forever and never enter.

 

 

When I did go in the room was dark ,lit only bit flickering candle light the embers of the fire were still glowing in the dark.  Then I saw the shadow. Large stretched across the wall like a spreading inkblot.  In the flickering orange light it reminded me of the footage of the Hindenburg making its last decent.  Then the voice “Are you ready?” I wasn’t.  I could never be ready.  Fear grasped my heart and  mankinds ancient instinct for survival kicked in and despite a litre of Jamesons’ I was sobered.

 

 

The next thing I knew there the light vanished and I was surrounded by darkness as the shape moved across the candle light eclipsing all the light.   I felt a sharp pain in my chest as if I had been attached to a meat hook and realised with horror it was one of her hands.  With violent force she threw me through the curtains that surrounded the bed.  The wafted back soflty into position as I scrabbled backwards up the bed.  Until my head struck the headboard sending flashes of white light coursing through my brain.

As my eyes refocussed I saw the shadow of two giant hands part the curtains, they were drawn  aside and revealed her.

There she was at the end of the bed. And then slowly, as only things of that size can, she started edging towards me on her knees, animal hunger in her malevolent, black, greedy eyes.  She had, horrifically, rammed herself into a corset.  Her gargantuan breasts hung down over the suspender belt like two bin bags of damp washing

 

 

Before I knew is she was upon me. The fear surged through me.  I kicked frantically trying to knock over the bedside candle and hope beyond hope that it might set fire to the curtain and save me or at least end both our lives!  My heart sank when it toppled to the floor and went out without catching anything on the way. I heard it roll to a stop on the wooden floor. 

Then I heard her. Close to my ear. “Aww silly, don’t be shy” she said in a voice as soothing as serial killer trucker telling you that you are in his favourite seat.   She grabbed my hand and forced it up to feel her face in the darkness. My trembling fingers were forced along its harsh surface and an image of Bill Beaumont flashed into my mind.  

Then I felt her hand on my face, smothering my nostrils till breath was barely possible. Then her huge finger in my mouth, like a clammy uncooked thick Richmond sausage. I gag recalling the horror even now. The hand covered my face.  This was what it must have been like in Alien with the beast clamped over your face.  I struggled for breath. Thought my life was at an end. But then gave into it… deciding death would be better than staying alive, and I let myself go to the darkness.

 

 

I woke in the morning feeling weak.  I wasn’t dead. The bed space beside me was empty, I turned to look and fell down into the crater where she had slept.  After 10 hard minutes I had managed to crawl up and out of it and fell in a heap to the floor. Where I realised my legs didn’t work. It was over. For now. I had survived.

I recovered eventually and learned to walk again with the aid of a stick.

 

If that isn't worth 3pts tonight then nothing is 

[Lord Snooty]

2 minutes ago, Ethel The Tree said:

 

If that isn't worth 3pts tonight then nothing is 

 

We all have to take one for the team somewhere along the line.

[The only way is S6]

2 hours ago, Holmowl said:

 

Brilliant.

 

Bet we all have some of these.

 

My best headline would be "Fiancé buys own engagement ring while fella watches Man City 1 - 3 Sheffield Wednesday."

 

Not my finest hour, but she wasn't right for me anyway........nor clearly vice-versa!

 

  Was this headline in ' I Do' magazine by any chance?

 

Technically, was she actually your fiancée if she was shopping for a ring? I daren't think what you proposed with sans jewellery otherwise. Hula Hoop, Monster Munch, curtain ring, 20mm washer?

[The only way is S6]

32 minutes ago, Lord Snooty said:

 

The whole day is both a blur and searingly sharp at the same time. There's a vagueness. A fugg, where my brain has tried to block it out. But I have flashbacks. Lurid dreams. Sometimes I hear the voices. My own voice. Weeping.

She’d started to let herself go long before the actual wedding of course, which was as much a family convenience as anything else. 

My last clear and happy memory of the morning was being stood there in topper and tails. My Best man at my side.  It was a dark day. As night had swept away at day break it was a milky sun that rose low in the winter sky as I ate my last breakfast.  Soon the winds blew in and  ashen clouds gathered over the church yard.  Stood there in the cool air I heard the distant rumble.  At first I thought it was thunder. But as it drew nearer I knew she had arrived,  when the floor beneath my feet and the foundations of that old place of worship started to shake I knew for sure she was here.

 

The meal and drinks went by in a flash. I tried to consume as much as I could in an attempt to make sure my pink Oboe would be unplayable when the time came. 

With the last lingering guests gone and no more chance to delay I made the slow walk up the grand stair.  I looked up. Looking for inspiration and saw the portraits of My ancestors looking down on me pityingly

I remember standing outside the large oak door which led to the bed chamber.  I leant my forehead against it and leant there for what must have been an age ,wishing that somehow I could stay there forever and never enter.

 

 

When I did go in the room was dark ,lit only bit flickering candle light the embers of the fire were still glowing in the dark.  Then I saw the shadow. Large stretched across the wall like a spreading inkblot.  In the flickering orange light it reminded me of the footage of the Hindenburg making its last decent.  Then the voice “Are you ready?” I wasn’t.  I could never be ready.  Fear grasped my heart and  mankinds ancient instinct for survival kicked in and despite a litre of Jamesons’ I was sobered.

 

 

The next thing I knew there the light vanished and I was surrounded by darkness as the shape moved across the candle light eclipsing all the light.   I felt a sharp pain in my chest as if I had been attached to a meat hook and realised with horror it was one of her hands.  With violent force she threw me through the curtains that surrounded the bed.  The wafted back soflty into position as I scrabbled backwards up the bed.  Until my head struck the headboard sending flashes of white light coursing through my brain.

As my eyes refocussed I saw the shadow of two giant hands part the curtains, they were drawn  aside and revealed her.

There she was at the end of the bed. And then slowly, as only things of that size can, she started edging towards me on her knees, animal hunger in her malevolent, black, greedy eyes.  She had, horrifically, rammed herself into a corset.  Her gargantuan breasts hung down over the suspender belt like two bin bags of damp washing

 

 

Before I knew is she was upon me. The fear surged through me.  I kicked frantically trying to knock over the bedside candle and hope beyond hope that it might set fire to the curtain and save me or at least end both our lives!  My heart sank when it toppled to the floor and went out without catching anything on the way. I heard it roll to a stop on the wooden floor. 

Then I heard her. Close to my ear. “Aww silly, don’t be shy” she said in a voice as soothing as serial killer trucker telling you that you are in his favourite seat.   She grabbed my hand and forced it up to feel her face in the darkness. My trembling fingers were forced along its harsh surface and an image of Bill Beaumont flashed into my mind.  

Then I felt her hand on my face, smothering my nostrils till breath was barely possible. Then her huge finger in my mouth, like a clammy uncooked thick Richmond sausage. I gag recalling the horror even now. The hand covered my face.  This was what it must have been like in Alien with the beast clamped over your face.  I struggled for breath. Thought my life was at an end. But then gave into it… deciding death would be better than staying alive, and I let myself go to the darkness.

 

 

I woke in the morning feeling weak.  I wasn’t dead. The bed space beside me was empty, I turned to look and fell down into the crater where she had slept.  After 10 hard minutes I had managed to crawl up and out of it and fell in a heap to the floor. Where I realised my legs didn’t work. It was over. For now. I had survived.

I recovered eventually and learned to walk again with the aid of a stick.

 

Dare I venture you're a descendant of Byron or Keats, regailing us with these lurid tales? The subtle woodwind reference to the little gentleman in the pink polo neck didn't go unnoticed either.

I know you landed gentry types don't actually do a proper job, but please don't put your quill down in a hurry. Top show.

Bill Beaumont gets a mention too. Maybe visions of Ms Roe helped you rise to the occasion? Who knows.

 

[Mr. Tom]

Nice one Snoots. Come on The Wednesday, another 3-1 would do nicely. Rhodes (2), Boyd.

 

Weather set to be a tad unsettled, might even pack a cagoule.

 

Edited September 12, 2017 by Mr. Tom