Me again, sorry for butting in, I really will absent myself after this.
Happy Birthday Darren Cave, you've suddenly got far too old to be playing this game, my advice is to git while the gittin's good.
Secondly, many of you are too stupid to understand the significance of this, day 1826. So, I'll talye. This is the fifth anniversary of the day Ravenhill had it's most raucous atmosphere ever, thanks in no small measure to Girrid , Garces, and the Sarriebastards oxygen bottle & mask and that clown Good, Goud or simply "Gobshite" who faked a near-death moment only to be gladhanding all and sundry 5 minutes later after Girrid's walk of shame.
It was the day that clampit Ashton, the well-known Warren Gatland, said it was the best atmosphere he had ever played in & his CEO, the disgusting Ed Griffith said the exact opposite, had it been the 1960s he'd have "Sir Alf'd" and called us "animals", before tearing strips of weekend warrior Slogan, our own trained killer and Norn Iron's top liar.
Sadly it was the end for a great team and ushered in a tragic period, overseen by Shame Slogan and his mate Doc Dave who not only screwed up by stabbing the ever popular McGlock in the back, but then turned traitor himself buggering off til Glaws, leaving the oafish Slogan too destroy the legacy that Doc Dave had been key in building for the bible-thumpingtwat, a fabulist who is Norn Iron's Walter Mitty equivalent.
Wind through Doakball & the disastrous twitching chube that was FOLK, the brief horror of the Liar Gibbes, a liar of almost as grand proportions as the then CEO, and then the blessed relief of finally getting not only a bloody good head Coach who gives all the appearance of actually knowing what he's at.
5 years and unexpectedly the grey mists appear to be melting away, some sort of decent future, much ahead of the timescale I anticipated.
Never forget 5/4/2014, a day of infamy, tomorrow will be Day 1827, coincidentally the year of Ron'n's birth.
OK, it's goodbye. I can't be doing with this shitehole.