Sorry, enough is enough.
In the words of Popeye “I’ve had all I can stands and I can’t stands no more.”
NUFC are defunct, extinct, lights out, goodnight.
One day, our black and white fossil will be dug up by the great great grandson of Sir Tony Robinson, of Time Team fame, and the crazy haired nerds will muse over the possibilities of our existence.
It won’t take long as our ‘raison de vivre’ (‘reason for living’) is of no meaning.
Our soul fire was extinguished many moons ago and the era of the magpie is long gone.
There is nothing left to champion, nothing left to stand up for, no reason to thump the chest and scream we are NEWCASTLE UNITED.
In life we shuffle towards our grave believing that one day our toil and suffering at the hands of our once beloved club will be rewarded. It won’t.
The club we as Newcastle fans love, died long ago, and we are still sitting at the wake waiting for our sickly sausage rolls to arrive.
The utter sh*** we have had to endure is above and beyond the call of all fans. Some would say we are acting above and beyond the call of duty.
I backed us (v Palace) to lose for monetary gain. The fact we are so, so bad – if you are a gambling man like myself you can only profit from our sheer inadequacy in a futile attempt to dampen the pain.
My own actions would once sicken me. Now I am ambivalent.
No amount of small change makes any man from within our town walls not want to burst into black and white flames.
This result, Palace’s greatest ever Premier League result by the way, was no surprise. If we draw or win, ever, this is the surprise.
Unless there is some seismic shift in the planets or the earth’s tectonic plates – this sorry barrel of tits is ganning down faster than two ton Tess on the bow of the Titanic.
The lads do not deserve our disdain, ire or tears.
They will, without a solitary drip of our own emotion, drop out the stinking money-soaked Premier League without so much as a whimper.
You reap what you sow. Mike Ashley deserves it all – but we don’t.
Karma is a bitch but it is deserved of the wretched.
Goodnight and God bless.
Answers on a postcard please.
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(***Read Alan Shearer’s passionate rant HERE)