thfcsteff
Sonny Walters
You're in a bar, possibly right now, slowly drowning your shock and sadness at that equaliser. Some dapper chappie in a deep purple velvet suit with a thin mustache and a cane called. Mr. Bub, Mr B.L.Z.Bub, wanders over and says hello. You start chatting, y'know, small stuff, state of the garden, must get the brakes checked on the car they're squeaking, was that suit tailored or off the rack, have you tried the new Indian down the road...and then Mr.Bub makes you THE offer.
"My friend," he says, "if you will allow me the purchase of your soul -and look, I might never need it but I''m a 'volume' kind of fellow- I can guarantee that your football team Tottenham Hotspur will stay in the Premier League 'cos I'm rather a db hand when it comes to a bit of the ol' botulism in lasagne (I shouldnt really confess but a Woolwich Wander is now under my permament charge thanks to me giving your lot the bricks at West Ham)..."
So yes. In exchange for your soul, Mr Bub will tait the lasagnes and pre-match meals of three of our opponents and three of West Ham's.
Well? Or are these stupid mindless games too tedious at this point!!!!!
Last edited: