It was a typical Manchester day. The wind howled and the rain swirled around the Etihad.
@Marvin stood under a huge blue umbrella. "It may be bad now, but it will be fine and bright by kick off" he reported. A high gust lifted the umbella into the sky and Marvin was last seen sailing towards Ancoats.
The usual crowd round the stand offering "A Kiss for Quid" was absent, sheltering. @karen7 would not be doing her usual brisk business today.
In the stadium, the Press were gathering and the conversation drifted across the hospitality suites....." human rights.......oil cheats..........try the smoked salmon......this venison pie is delicious....ffp.....anyone seen Conn The Bitter?". The hypocritical noses were well into the trough. Delooney sat in a corner nursing a crisp Pinot Grigio and wishing he wrote for a proper newspaper, y'know with presses and newsprint.
Young gentlemen sent by @Gary James were recording every event for posterity, hoping to catch an indiscrete remark from the slimy Matthew Syed, but Mr Whiff Whaff was busy writing his next attack on the City faithful.
The game kicked off and the usual pattern emerged. City attacked relentlessly, but could not get past the Burnley bus. Any half break was snuffed out by a last Dyche tackle. The City right winger had a glorious opportunity, but blazed over the bar; FFS Mahrez.
Finally, in the 75th minute, Sterling weaved his way through, but fell over in the act of shooting. Kev followed up. 1-0.
It looked like 3 points, but calamity struck 10 minutes from the end. Mendy was caught upfield when Burnley attacked down their right, Ottamendi came flying out, and tackled the linesman, the cross caught Stones daydreaming. 1-1. "Bill Leivers would have cut out that ball and still had time for a fag", muttered @Dave Ewing's Back 'eader, more in sorrow than in anger.
Pep was doing his nut in the technical area, screaming, shouting, waving his arms and polishing his pate. When he started to foam at the mouth, the medical staff ushered him down the tunnel for a calming cup of Bovril.
In the 87th minute, Foden was sent on to "make a difference, lad". No luck with his usual one touch of the ball. Final whistle 1-1. Barnay Ronay rubbed his hands; "Citeh no match for Ole's Marvels", he wrote. Bloody rag.
There was just time for @Prestwich_Blue to calculate the invoice to Sheik Mansour for the unsold tickets he would need to buy, and we all drifted to the pub.
Cityitis is much more virulent than some wimp of a virus.
@Marvin stood under a huge blue umbrella. "It may be bad now, but it will be fine and bright by kick off" he reported. A high gust lifted the umbella into the sky and Marvin was last seen sailing towards Ancoats.
The usual crowd round the stand offering "A Kiss for Quid" was absent, sheltering. @karen7 would not be doing her usual brisk business today.
In the stadium, the Press were gathering and the conversation drifted across the hospitality suites....." human rights.......oil cheats..........try the smoked salmon......this venison pie is delicious....ffp.....anyone seen Conn The Bitter?". The hypocritical noses were well into the trough. Delooney sat in a corner nursing a crisp Pinot Grigio and wishing he wrote for a proper newspaper, y'know with presses and newsprint.
Young gentlemen sent by @Gary James were recording every event for posterity, hoping to catch an indiscrete remark from the slimy Matthew Syed, but Mr Whiff Whaff was busy writing his next attack on the City faithful.
The game kicked off and the usual pattern emerged. City attacked relentlessly, but could not get past the Burnley bus. Any half break was snuffed out by a last Dyche tackle. The City right winger had a glorious opportunity, but blazed over the bar; FFS Mahrez.
Finally, in the 75th minute, Sterling weaved his way through, but fell over in the act of shooting. Kev followed up. 1-0.
It looked like 3 points, but calamity struck 10 minutes from the end. Mendy was caught upfield when Burnley attacked down their right, Ottamendi came flying out, and tackled the linesman, the cross caught Stones daydreaming. 1-1. "Bill Leivers would have cut out that ball and still had time for a fag", muttered @Dave Ewing's Back 'eader, more in sorrow than in anger.
Pep was doing his nut in the technical area, screaming, shouting, waving his arms and polishing his pate. When he started to foam at the mouth, the medical staff ushered him down the tunnel for a calming cup of Bovril.
In the 87th minute, Foden was sent on to "make a difference, lad". No luck with his usual one touch of the ball. Final whistle 1-1. Barnay Ronay rubbed his hands; "Citeh no match for Ole's Marvels", he wrote. Bloody rag.
There was just time for @Prestwich_Blue to calculate the invoice to Sheik Mansour for the unsold tickets he would need to buy, and we all drifted to the pub.
Cityitis is much more virulent than some wimp of a virus.