Woeful

Watford v Barnsley

Wednesday 9^th April

Jun, Julie and Jo joined me for the trip from Euston to Watford where I reminded them that we could go top with a victory tonight. Phil came in with Joss to make a row of six of us watch the Hornets outplayed, outfought and outthought after a bright opening period. John Joe O’Toole stood and watched as a loose ball was simply played wide then crossed in for Sunday’s semi-final losers to open the scoring and the cat-calls started after the Rookery had begun with a wall of sound. There were boos at the half-time whistle.

The second half was two minutes old when the visitors scored again and within another seven minutes (in which Nathan Ellington had a header cleared off the line in front of us) they had added a third and people started leaving. I tried to get things going with “Wem-ber-ley, Wem-ber-ley, we never wanted to get promoted automatically” but nobody joined in. It was the same story with “Aidy Boothroyd’s banana army” later and after JJ (family friends of whom we had met Sunday) missed a sitter from three yards, it was a case of waiting it out until we could get back to the Moon Under Water. In the garden of the pub, another spectator opened his conversation by inviting agreement with the word that makes up the heading for this post.