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Six appeal
Alistair Wilkinson
12 March 2007
I'm cheap but I'm good. Anything can happen in the
next hour and-a-half. We can thrash, we can mash, we
can trash. We can come from behind; we can fluke it.
C'mon Orpheus, keep it fabulous, we're nearly there,
and the twelfth man won't need to care. It's a cliché,
it's exciting like
Stingray, Stingray
Stingray, Stingray
Sting. Ray!
We're surfacing, ok?
So many so glum, me, my sick to the tum. Not as bad
as the rest, not as good as the best as they boo and
bleat, those offended sheep, one target Reddy cos he
reckons he could do a T-Rex and be bigger than
Becks. Ooh, he's evil, a sandwich breaker and hostage
taker. Didn't he invent the Breville?
Easy for the message board fan, only results matter
when watching it on teletext or listening to Kerr, dunt
matter what's next, dunt matter what's fair: I wasn't
there but I thought I'd share… (Please do. No, don't!)
Why do you care, sat in your chair as you stare and
stare and stare from your chair… Can you swivel?
Five out of six, it's back to the sex. I dunno 'bout you,
reckon that'll do. Buckley out! the purple-faced shout.
Shut up you lout, no need to shout, no more Pout.
He's coming back! that continual tack. Another cheap
rhyme to save a bit more time; c'mon! I'm excited,
Macca's gonna be knighted. Chris Kamara? Curb
your drivel.
That man wriggles; I'm keeping the red squiggles.
Bye, bye Paterson; unlucky Boston; hello, North;
welcome back, Bore; the cheap rhyme says 'score',
but I want more… I want to be proud, I want to be
loud. Lose the drum it makes us dumb and a little
numb; ass and thumb… Chris Kamara? Can you
swivel?
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