Ahhhhhhh Sunday, good old Sunday. Sunday doesn't let you down, except when you have to work the next day. You get that tight feeling in your chest whenever the responsibility of employment crushes down on you. But, woop! I don't have any of that at the moment, so my Sundays are fairly relaxed affairs at the moment.
I spent the day sticking it to The Man by illegally streaming lots of juicy sport. Hahaa! Take that you fuckers! Thanks to the internet, you can find live video of all the sport that's going on. Mostly, though, it's football, and football's what I was after. Stoke City, The Potters, that lot, were playing Newcastle United.
I've always loved football, despite always being completely shit at it. In possession of a powerful right foot and quite remarkable bulk, I had a short and fairly fruitless football career, peaking between the ages of 7 and 10. After that I rather went to seed. I had no natural ability, the touch of a corpse, and no competitive instinct whatsoever. I once scored 4 goals for the B Team, and that was about it. But I didn't mind, it wasn't the end of the world. There were stickers to collect and stupid plastic figures with gigantic heads to collect. It's weird, the aura that surrounds all the tiny sporting children, how they seemed somehow special and glamorous. They had Adidas Predator boots and Kickers shoes, and the could do a bloody Cruyff turn. I wasn't very good, and soon lost interest. But Stoke were playing, and I'm still bothered how they do, so why not.
There's a couple of good websites that host streams of sports matches, and I tottered off to them looking shifty and wearing a cloak, trying not to draw attention to myself in case the feds were watching. The mighty Potters trounced those thieving Magpies 2-1.
This felt good. A worrying proportion of my friends are from the North East.
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