Paul Lambert stands on the roof of Ewood, takes the locket from around his neck

flicks it open with his immense fingers. The sepia cameo pictures of Culverhouse and Karsa; the three amigo's. Good times. Successful times. Before Villa ruined everything. Fuck Lerner, Agbonlahor, Guzan and that s**theel Sherwood.
He clips the locket shut and swallows it, washing it down with a huge swig of Iron Bru. Now its time.
He takes out the torch and signals to Tugay down on the pitch, and waits.

Seconds later, the modified floodlight burns its halogen power into the night sky, the huge HOLT TASHE emblem roaring into the Northern sky.
"The lads need a hand/ Then its a f**king hand they shall have".
He sits down on the tin roof and works his way through a packet of pork scratchings, kicking his heels against the advertising hoarding.
In the distance, Holty, Crofty, Ruddy, Tierney, Whitbready, Pilks and Wilbrahimovic feel compelled to run outside and stare in to the nights sky. Thundercats - HO!

Posted By: MIKEWALKER on January 20th 2016 at 11:04:20


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