Working in London as I do, I have to suffer a fair number of 'Plastic Rags'. I have been happily taking money from them over the past few seasons, as their chosen team has failed to live up to their over-confident, arrogant expectations and not finished above the unfashionable little club I support.
These bets have now dried up as they start to come to terms with the fact their adopted team is crap.
I spent half an hour with one yesterday. A decent chap from Sidcup who could actually name scum managers back as far as O'Farrell but has only been to OT once as a guest of his sister in law's brother or something.
Anyways, I am vociferously highlighting the error of his ways, deriding that club, its policies, media control, lack of forward planning, corrupt board members, inept management, etc etc etc.
I am having a field day using a lot of factual information gleaned from BM over the years to back up my relentless attack on his club of choice. I am extolling the virtues of our wonderful owners and the enviable situation we now find ourselves in compared to that shower of shit when it was time for me to leave him and do some work.
I told him how much I had enjoyed our little 'chat' and jokingly apologised for it being so 'one-way."
"Do you know what you are? A sore winner!" he said as we parted. I laughed long and loud at that!