The nights are drawing in, there is a chill in the air and people are scraping ice from their car windscreens first thing in the morning. Autumn has been and gone and now the cold, cruel winter is upon us and everybody is turning the heating up a notch or two. But City fans (and many non-City fans) can sit back and relax, we can all enjoy the warm glow of the karma that is now enveloping that festering, stagnant pit of poison called the swamp.
We can put our feet up and lie back in our comfy armchairs and allow our minds to drift back in time: back to a time when we were a 'small club with a small mentality,' when we were told we'd achieve nothing 'in his lifetime,' and they even put up a huge banner mocking our lack of success. A time when we were mocked by the people at Sly Snorts because Buzzer told them all in no uncertain terms that the tide will turn.
It has turned...and some.
Now you raggy bastards can have your own winter of discontent. Your tears of anguish will be like a fucking monsoon once you realise the tables have turned for good.
SCUM.
