Connect in the back of the net

It’ll end in a loss, a shocking defeat.

We’ll flail and fail when it goes to penalties

Never once gaining the upper hand,

Not from the first minute till the last.

No hope for us at all, no prayer answered

No favours owed or to call in.

No icon, no deity to help my team out.

As I watch in despair and I know it’s coming,

The dread, the dark cloud forming above our sofa

And as always when she’s here with her

Feet up and watching the match with wine

I sit and realise it’s all gone to pot –

She’s watching the match my brothers

And she’s cursed you sorry lot.

 

Written by Laura Sansom

Follow Laura on Twitter @louboop

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