I am not a man who inspires indifference, and I know that people have experienced their first kiss while listening to me. As Fulham prepared to take on Swindon in the 3rd round of the FA Cup and my colleagues Mike Ingham and David Pleat mispronounced the names of half-time snacks (“Dorry-toss“, I ask you?), I turned away. I was busy watching the real action, using my trusty binoculars and observing two young protégés at the unforgiving training ground of the school disco. With all your friends watching on, you absolutely fluffed your chance at your first kiss. “Show us your medals!” eh, sonny? With that display, your trophy cabinet is going to remain bare forEVER.
The opening tactics were negative from both sides; each remaining in their own half, hopelessly out of position. Any attempts to launch an attack were awkward, uncoordinated and, frankly, a disgreeaace. Like my wife and me on a Saturday night, they played out their soulless dance, flirting with each other’s play and teasing each other with the possibility of a good looking passing move. This was all well and good folks but it was just not going to get you the goal you were looking for.
Then, after what seemed like an eternity, something actually happened! Well, knock me down with a gigantic reinforced feather! I saw you trying a couple of bewilderingly naive moves up the flanks, only to be tracked back by her hands. The crowd winced as you moved in, with your trembling tongue, before the violent clashing of teeth-tangled braces brought chaos in the penalty area. What a stramash! As the rest of the gang piled in to resolve the goal line scramble I was left with an empty feeling folks, alone and empty. Honestly, what a shambles. They were pitiful.
What are you trying to do, thinking you can kiss at this level! I’m sorry, some kisses are just awful and I’m not prepared to say anything else. I’m not negative about many things: just the paucity of Anfield’s vending machine crisp selection (I have written several letters), and the warmth of the sun. The actual warmth of the sun, and the song too. Some people say that I should accentuate the positive – I say that’s just dressing up mutton as lamb. At least, that’s what I say to my wife at home, every single time she is getting ready to go out.
Oh for goodness sake! Come on folks, get off your high horses – it was a joke, I have absolutely no opinions whatsoever about public shows of affection as long as no one is kissing my damp sweaty face.