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Sheffield Wednesday V Brentford OMDT

Lord Snooty
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Holmowl Grand Master

Holmowl

Posted
Posted
1 hour ago, The only way is S6 said:

 

:tango:  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?

 

Strangely " I Do" rejected it.

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wenzdyboy Experienced

wenzdyboy

Posted
Posted
3 hours ago, thewookieisdown said:

Really? Do we do a lot of changing a winning team for reasons other than injuries? What are the outcomes when we do make such unforced changes compared to when we don't? 

I wasn't referring to  us specifically. Lots of teams have been doing it for ages n my own personal opinion is it prevents momentum being built. If ur after an example, one i can think of offhand is when we beat Brum (i think) 4-1 on boxing day 2015, FF got 2 goals n we were on fire at that time. 2 days later we played Boro away n lost 1-0. CC made changes, FF on the bench was one of those. We started slowly n conceded early. He changed it at ht, brought FF on n we were all over them but were always chasing the game. That's just a recent example I can think of. 

Going 'on a run' builds confidence n momentum. 1 example I can think of was in 93 when Warhurst scored in 7consecutive games. We made good progress in the league and both cups at the time n i think that moments like that contribute to giving a team a winning mentality n that it can be 'their season'. Just my opinion!

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belfast owl lad Veteran

belfast owl lad

Posted
Posted
2 hours 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.

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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.

$_35.JPG

quite brilliant sir,methinks your a thesp/author?

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Miffed Grand Master

Miffed

Posted
Posted
5 hours ago, wenzdyboy said:

We should be learning that changing a winning team more often than not disrupts momentum a prevents teams getting 'on a roll'.

 

Such an old fashioned view.

 

How about we let the coach pick the team of players who he believes is most likely to beat the opposition. Carlos will have done his homework on Brentford and how they play, like he will have with every team that we play against, so if he decides to play X player instead of Y player because he thinks it will give us more chance of winning then I'm happy with that.


Its not as if Carlos has ever made whole sale changes to the starting eleven and the formation so using the "Changing a winning team" and "tinkering" are just lazy phrases to throw around if we don't win.

 

 

We don't know which of our players are 100% fit. We don't know if anyone is carrying a knock or is feeling unwell. Carlos, the coaching and medical staff will know all of this. So whether changes are forced or they are just tactical I'm just happy to trust the judgement of the people in charge.

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