Friday, 6 October 2017

Okay now go... walk out the Dor-chester

Some things in life are assured. Death, taxes, Donald Trump being a dotard spunk trumpet, Spencer Day maintaining he has nothing to do with the running of the club and us Boro fans being put right through the dead centre of the proverbial fucking wringer at regular intervals.

It had been an odd few days @TheBoroWalk towers. We'd bumped into Spencer in Tesco, delivered a criminally under appreciated  'Walker's #chooseorlose' tweet poll, forged a link up with Toronto High Park FC (look at a map) because their director of coaching is called Nick Farnborough, witnessed Dan "footy focus" Walker return to the circus and bag a brace AND taken delivery of some more official faaaarkin' @TheBoroWalk mugs. (All of that would make sense of you followed our exploits on twitter... if you don't, you're living your life at least 3.1415% sub capacity). I digress...

"Fresh" from the putting to bed of the newly acquired 'Rushmoor cunty stadium hoodoo', on Saturday, Boro's next visitors were those Bloody Assizes (read a history book) from the Dorchester. What did we know about them? Well they'd been dogshit most of the season, scored sod all goals and not won since the big bang. What could possibly go wrong?!?! Well unfortunately they had just installed a new manager. Steve Thompson, he of the Yeovil and Woking fame, was ready to try and halt their slide alongside longstanding Boro old boy Super Trev Senior. (Slight soft spot for that veteran journeyman as he scored in my first Boro away game v Brentford in the FA cup back in the mid 90s). No time for sentiment really... because it was fucking teaming it down like... well like at Gosport the other week really. Biblical.

Team news? The more logical minded Boro fan had already worked out that St.Ives would be Walker's last hurrah as his month contract had run it's course. So, coupled with Tamplin managing to tweet confirmation of his return without getting sidetracked trying to literally bum himself in his own self conceited smug mouth, that little cameo dream was over. Word up you bastards. Curo was back in, because he's Curo and a legend ffs. Clintons made the starting lineup despite some rumours doing the rounds about him coming off second best in a sumo wrestling match with a Fiat Cinquecento. "Hightower" Saville the other man sacrificed. Not a huge surprise as he's been more injury prone then Darren Anderton lately and "Reg" has been frankly undroppable. It also made the bench a bunch of Jack offs.... think about it.

There was just time for a bit of score predictor banter, with new celebrity Boro addict Joe England, before we were in our spots and ready for it all to kick off, like "Reg" outside of 'spoons on a night off.

Dorch' looked lively from the off... quick to the loose balls, like an eager plastic surgeon specialising in testicle realignment. Only a couple of mins in and as Boro flapped around dealing with an up'n'under, "Chilli-con" Cairney was forced into clawing one away on the stretch like a practising super human at a fantastic 4 recruitment evening. Unfortunately Boro fell back into typecast as, from the resulting corner, "the Organ" Hammond was playing flat as the prick he was marking gave him the foot peddle and nestled his header deep into our ball bag. Barely treble figures seconds gone. FML. 0-1

The Dorch started taking the piss, clearly feeling rather overconfident they decided to start taking efforts on their own goal to warm their keeper up. A Clintons cross superbly headed goal bound by their towering centreback needing their ball bag protector to tip it over with all the aplomb of a Guinness employee starting a domino rally world record attempt.
Curo ploughed on with his metaphorical fishing tournament as he snared one in the net after a neat switch from "truncheon" Hutchings. Unfortunately though he was flagged like a pole outside of the UN headquarters. Things were about to slip further down the shitscale though as, after winning a soft free kick on the half way line, one of the Dorch'ers rolled the ball in front of the ref and sprayed a cross fielder into the path of their striker who nobbled "truncheon" and crossed it back up stream over "the salmon", floundering in no mans land, to be met by the on rushing forehead of a white shirted man. "Chilli" would have been more frustrated then a poor, black, lesbian American at a Republican convention to not claw it out, having got to it, but there you go. 17 mins. 0-2

Boro finally started to rise from their slumber, clearly realising that this was never going to be the procession that it might have appeared on paper a week or 2 prior. The Hoffen worked himself into a 20 yarder which the keeper did well to get down to. "Richlist" Forbes had one of the worst shots from distance I've ever seen, spunking his half volley into row Z of the PRE. "The Salmon" had his customary action in the box. First steering a header just past the left hand stick and, then, getting on the end of a free kick, hooking it goal bound forcing their injury feigning ball bag protector into a tip over. One of those 'anywhere else and it's a goal' ones. His hat trick of box touches was completed as he connected with another corner, from which Curo proceeded to snatch his resulting shot well over the ball bag stick. Already felt like another one of those days, still... 2 down wasn't unassailable was it. Then, the massive half time bitch slapper arrived... a long ball floated over the top and with "the salmon" in deep water and "Reg" in the shallows , their striker strolled through and slotted it past "Chilli". Whistle straight after the restart. Shit the bed. 0-3  HT

In the bar at HT... The sheer dumbfounded euphoria on the faces of the Dorch' fans was something to behold. Fair play to them. They'd practically doubled their 'goals for' tally and were about to match our tally of wins at the San Cherrio this season. Probably quite the contrast to us standing there looking like we were chewing on wasps. Never mind, we had a wealth of attacking options on the bench right? it'd be fine. Failing that, we'd just fuck off back to the clubhouse if it got to 5. Pints downed and back into the stands for the sacrificial slaughtering it was then.

BUT WAIT... from the kick off, Boro lurch forward and "mustard" Calcutt is chopped down. Quick thinking from Curo, with the Dorch still asleep, and he's put "the Hoffen"Coles in..... Tasty!! 1-3
Momentum mo'problems for the Dorch as Boro started to press. Exposing their opponents clearly fragile mentality for not having won many games of late. Another corner floated in and once again "the Salmon" went up with the keeper who managed to spill it, unfortunately "the salmon" picked that moment to submit his entry for miss of the decade, as he toe poked it ninja style over the bar from 1 yard out. Things were starting to get surreal at that point as the tannoy, in the PRE at least, started playing random background music for no apparent reason over and over for a few minutes.
Whether this was some predetermined strategy to unsettle the visitors or not we cannot say, but it seemed to be working. "Reg" was being allowed to bring the ball out, as the Dorch sat back harder then a quality control tester at La-Z-Boy. He had a couple of sighters, from distance, and was also combining well with "Clintons" who started looking hungry. One effort was palmed away by the stickman in what turned out to be a dress rehearsal for the next ball bag bulger. Reg, on yet another stroll into the final third, laid it off and Clintons coiled up like a springy thing in a newly opened spring factory in New Springland as he dumped his load into the far corner. Sweet. 2-3

It was mostly all Boro now as the yellows booked into the Dorchester final third. With no attacking options on the bench, "Good" Evans came on for "The Organ" to try and keep the supply chain lubricated. A few half chances came and went before the inevitable counter attack arrived. With bodies thrown forward the Dorch forged a 3 on 1 break and their winger arched in, managing to screw the ball butt clenchingly close to their 4th. The Dorch fans thought it was game over, but instead just received a right royal trolling from Reg's mates and the right side of the PRE. Our advice, don't call Reg the 'C' word... especially not in front of the GG's!!
Up the other end and "Truncheon" was finally coming to life, combining with "Clintons" to send in a cross for Curo who turned and flicked the ball up clearly catching the defenders elbow. It was practically volleyball FFS. Ref said no. Shambles. 2 mins later and this time it's the Hoffen finding some space down the right and he curves another cross in, again finding a defenders lofted forearm flailing like a Theresa May policy. Again the ref waves it away, much like his chances of ever making it at a higher level. (oohhhhhhh!)

Chances carried on raining, like the weather, as The Hoffen forced the stickman into another finger-tipper-overer and "RichList" sprayed a few more over the bar for the sheer hell of it.
"Hightower" Saville was on for "Truncheon", just before the 90, so we figured the hail marys were about to commence. Instead though he let his feet do the talking as he chased down the Dorch defenders resulting in an old skool passback pickup. Who doesn't love an indirect free kick in the box type shenanigan as your team chases down a game. "Fister" Southam studs it, The Hoffen steps up and absolutely leathers it goal bound, "Mustard" gets his bonce on it, net bulges like a big bag of Boris Johnson gaffes. Sweet beautiful sanctity. 3-3

Shouldn't have been 3 down. We cannot keep shipping goals like this, especially to teams below us.  DeFence is not just something Dom sits on in his interviews! That said, anytime you take something from 3 down should not be shirked at. We're not going to win the league, this season is more about the journey then the destination..... or some other semi-profound waffle, if that's what you're after. We just need to get out of the flintstones car we're in and maybe go for a test drive somewhere.

Some guy tweeted that the equalizer cost him £200 on his accy. What a time to be alive. Football eh? Who'd have it.


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