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HANDS OFF SOCKS ON CLOCKS inc. city Sevens

Submitted by on March 26, 2010 – 4:29 pmOne Comment

"eh our kid is it forwards or baaaack?"

“Summer lovin happened so fast” sang John Travolta bragging to his T-bird mates about the tops and fingers he reckoned he got during the school holidays. But in recent weeks I’ve been singing “winter hatin’ happened so slow” and that’s why I’m looking forward to welcoming the start of British Summer Time on Sunday morn and finally closing the door on one of the longest, shittiest Mike and Bernie ever known to mankind.

We were dragged into an early winter around June/July with the mass hysteria surrounding swine flu. While we should have been enjoying those summer days driftin away, we were thinking about lying in bed filling hankies with snot and coughing up green Gilbert O’Sullivans and then dying or watching our families die because this was a pandemic which is miles worse than an epidemic and everyone was gonna get it and we’d all be dead and then the Taliban would take over and kill any of us that had survived. As it turned out it was another mass flap created by various government, media and health mainheads and can be now filed alongside foot and mouth, mad cow, bird flu and the millennium bug – remember that one? When nuclear missiles were gonna randomly set off left, right and centre and our playstations were never gonna work properly again.

Before we knew it it was dark, cold and pissin down all the time which made people moan more about the recession and the credit crunch and MPs’ expenses. But not to worry ,what better antidote to all the misery than Xmas (yes I’ve substituted Christ with X cos I’m a devil worshipper, or am I? maybe the X = crucifix or maybe it’s X like in the porn channel Television X). Better still the whole commercial circus would be even better if it was a White Xmas, where tree tops glisten and children listen to cash registers ringing to the tune of their mam’s and dad’s cash and even the shittiest of shitholes looks good under a blanket of snow. People got what they were dreaming of but the snow lasted and froze and more snow snowed and snow had fallen snow on snow, snow-oh-oh on snow in the bleak mid-winter several weeks ago. And then shit, we ran out of one of the planet’s most vital elements –g rit. We were on the brink of collapse and people started to wish the fookin nightmare stuff had never come.

In early January some of us tried to get out of our homes to get supplies but when we got to the shops there was no bread or milk and we were all going to die and Al-Qaeda were gonna move in and kill those that were still alive in snow and ice-gripped Britain.

Heroically, in an attempt to earn money for vital provisions I tries to get to work in the tater-ash wagon but its rear-wheel drive can’t cope on the ungritted highway and somewhere near Rochdale Rd. in Collyhurst the bastard slid and spun and I lose control and go dizzy and everything goes black and I enter a time-warp and I’m in my boss’s office reading the Metro paper waiting for him to get in in his 4WD Audi the 4 miles from Salford and I’m reading stories of anti-Glazer protests and I was back in 2005 and there’s stories of city getting to Wembley and I’m even further back and the boss gets in and hands me a shovel and I’m in the past again feigning illness with my old back injury and soon home to wait for light at the end of the tunnel.

And as we slowly creep out of winter into spring, we’ll soon forget all these bad things, we’ll be winding our clocks forward or is it back? Remember the rhyme spring forward and fall back? No it’s spring back and fall forward, but it’s not fall where we’re from it’s autumn, fall is what Glazier would say, so is it autumn back or autumn forward? Things go brown in autumn and brown is at the back and yellow at the front, so it’s autumn back and spring forward. So it must be forward. So as we put our clocks forward (is it not back? No, forward you dick) we can eagerly look ahead to warmer, longer days, getting friendly down in the sand, drinking beer outside, mowing the lawn, naked trampolining, fookin Mancini taking off that fookin scarf thing that he invented and eagerly awaiting his next invention – probably sunglasses or Bermuda shorts – uh-oh those summer niii-iiights.

7 things Manchester city and their fans  have invented

Scarves

Parkas

Britpop

Gallows humour

Turnstiles with swipe cards

Witty nicknames (e.g. Bobby Manc, The Goat, Frank S(h)ina(wa)tra)

Fancy-dress outfits

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