I Guess I Can't Always Blame Ken Samuel

I'm getting almost as bored writing about my inability to win the half-time Klondike draw as you must be reading about it.  And bored of my borderline libellous contention that Ken Samuel may have more than a hand in my continued bad luck (just thirty odd years and counting).

Well, last Saturday, before the team slept walked into a lacklustre capitulation to Kidderminster, I missed out on Klondike glory through nobody's fault but my own.  My blame entirely.  Nothing to do with Ken.  At least not this time.

Being equal parts effortlessly-minted and unstintingly-generous it's not unknown for me to buy a fivers worth of Klondikes before the game.  This I was about to do in the bar well before kick-off.  However, at the last moment I plumped for 3 Klondikes and a Matchday programme.  I don't usually buy a programme.  Not because it isn't good - it is, but like most people who have watched football for any length of time I have piles of the damn things filling up various rooms of my house, and I don't need more.  Also, I know that others are avid collectors and a whim purchase from me might deny somebody who REALLY wanted that particular programme.  Oh, and I'm unbelievably bad at Cookie's quiz - I think I've guessed one correct answer ever.

I purchased this particular programme solely because an article I'd written was featured within.  'Er indoors who labours under the twin binds in life of being married to both me and to the Poppies Trust had coaxed me to pen a piece for the Trust page.  I leapt at the chance to write something that could be entirely positive for a change, and it ended up in the Kiddy programme.  Which I then pointlessly purchased in order to re-read something I was already intimately familiar with.

You can guess what happened next.  Yep, the winning Klondike number was 2 higher than my third ticket.  It would have been the fifth of my five tickets had I not bought a programme.

Yes folks, in order to vanity-read something I could just as easily brought up on my phone, I chucked £180.  Well done me.  I'm not looking for sympathy but wouldn't necessarily object if you all wanted to have a whip-around to cover this latest egregious loss.  And Ken, this doesn't mean I'm not still watching you like a hawk....

Worth £182.50 of anyone's money

Existential Crisis, Poppies style.

There's some seriously weird sh*t going down in Poppies land at the moment.  Weirder even than usual.  Far too many Poppies fans are entirely losing it with their club over stuff that happens in football every day, but we somehow consider it to be END OF DAYS when it happens to us.

Culverhouse left.  Proof positive we are screwed.

Players left.  We must be broke.

Unproven Manager appointed.  Club must be about to fold.

Replica shirts arrive only just ahead of the season starting.  Ritchie is about to set fire to himself.

Attendances drop.  Guaranteed relegation (mind you, I haven't been yet myself....)

A glimpse at KTFC chat on Saturdays has become akin to dipping your toes into an ocean of angry, poisoned acid.  Every goal conceded brings about wails of teeth-gnashing, utter angry despair.  Every chance we miss guarantees the club is about to be wound-up.  A corner that hits the first defender automatically means none of the players are being paid and there is literally no need to ever attend a match again.

Every time I hope the more outlandish elements of our support have finally gone as far as they can with their barmy Poppies self-hatred they surprise me by dipping further into the well of angst-riven loathing of their own football club.

If you feel yourself about to dive off the depressive Poppies deep-end perhaps you might want to: -

Take a deep breath

Stop reading KTFC Chat for 24 hours after a game

Remember that FOOTBALL IS JUST A GAME

Remember KETTERING TOWN FC IS A TEAM YOU SUPPORT

Remember that when two teams take to a field to play football there are a number of possible outcomes and that WINNING EVERY GAME IS BY NO MEANS GUARANTEED

Or perhaps just f*cking grow-up a bit...

Two of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse

Why isn't Cox being shown the door by Boston not cheering me up as much as I thought it would?

As much as we at Patgod enjoy a good chuckle and try to wring the funny from any given Poppies-related situation, the sacking of Paul Cox has left us strangely flat.  I'm trying to think of as many snake-inspired puns as I can, but the muse isn't there.  Or rather, "isssssn't there."  Although I'm feeling morose on the subject I'm not dead!

Who can't have watched Cox's recent interviews without at least a touch of concern?  That florrid face.  The unnerving blinking.  The complete inability to focus his eyes on anything at all, let alone the interviewer.  He looked harassed and unwell.  You would need a heart of stone not to feel just a bit sorry for him.  Unless, of course you happened to be a Poppies supporter or simply someone who enjoys schadenfreude.

This is the man, who for all of his noble talk, simply walked out on his Poppies contract when Boston made their illegal approach.  Sensing the greener (and flatter) grass in Lincolnshire he dumped us without a backward glance or word of apology or regret.  A move utterly lacking the class or honesty we had thought he was eminently capable of.  For what?  To be sacked just seven games into the new season and have another club's supporters think ill of him.

In the most obvious development since the announcement that water is wet Ian Culverhouse has slithered into the still-warm dugout at Boston.  This was such a guaranteed outcome that even Patgod foretold it, though even Culverhouse probably can't believe how quickly his period on the Rock and Roll has come to an end.  Paul Bastock and that other bloke are already, no doubt, heading to the Jakemans.  The other bloke in his car and Bastock while taking his dog for a walk.

So where does all this leave everyone?  Is Lee Glover already looking forward to his turn in the Boston hot seat before the end of the season?  Or is he looking over his shoulder?  Surely Cox burned his bridges with Ritchie?  What would Ian Culerhouse have done for a living if Boston hadn't had such a crap start to the season?  He's already amply proved he will never move his lazy arse from the Kings Lynn area, which meant he was basically waiting for either Boston or Peterborough Sports to have a shocker.  Boston stepped up.  And what of Paul himself?  I take no pleasure in seeing someone lose their job.  Today Paul started in employment and by the end of the day he's out of work.  Sad - no matter what we might think of the man and his behaviour

On the bright side, he loses his employment on the same day Boris Johnson loses his, who did an even worse job and arguably screwed up the lives of even more people than a former Poppies Manager can manage.

On the even brighter side, Paul should take heart that he signs-on on the same day Liz Truss becomes the Prime Minister, proving it is possible to fail upwards and that absolutely no-one is completely unemployable.

It's what you've always wanted. 
Careful not to trip over your own grin....