&*(%^&%^$%^$%$!!

Words fail me about this one. Craig bloody Brewster. I saw him standing there on the touchline, doing his stupid Roy Of The Rovers leg stretch warm-up, and I knew we were doomed. I knew it. It was a funny old day. After a night in Inverness, a hangover saw me eat the most singularly hideous hot-dog i have ever tasted, but by the end of the 90 minutes it wasn't the only thing that was making me sick.
Why do we do this? Inconsistency will be our downfall. There was nothing for it other than to go out and have more to drink after this, and with another night in Inverness booked, it had to be done. Lovely city. No way I am going back!