"I once saw the most boring film in the world ever in Barnet. It was a free ticket, but I still asked for my money back.
Oh Barnet, oh Barnet you little tinkers. You were our banker: six points guaranteed. Why did you have to spoil a beautiful friendship? We liked you, we liked you a lot. Have we reached a fork in the road of kinship every bit as terminally annoying as that flippin traffic jam on Barnet High Street?
We spent years laughing and singing with you, sorry, at you as a procession of hairstyles and crotchety crutches turned to jelly before our very eyes, playmates. Whatever happened? Where did it all go wrong? Is Cliff Aqualung a national hero for scoring the first ever goal ever against us?
I suppose you could say were a little baffled by Barnet. No fans, no money, but surfing the tube as we waddle in a paddling pool of delusion.
At first you got our cast-offs: Poor Warhurst and Dynamic Des Hamilton, the man who wasnt there: now we get yours. We nearly signed Nicky Nicolau but he stayed at home, though we did get one, two, three - oh, Michael Leary.
Underhillstill only in Underhill. Every minute we stay in this division we get weaker, and every minute Barnet squats in the bush, they get stronger. Each time I look around the away stand, the walls move in a little tighter. At least we can watch the cricket, eh? Oh, youve put a roof on now so at least well be dry, but bored.
Barnet were a comedy team whove now turned rampant raiders of the lost art of scoring.
Descending from the Underground, strolling along suburban side streets you still dont feel like a football league club, what with that rickety ground and team that play to score goals. Goals? Goals! Whatever do you think youre doing? Entertainment is for amateurs."
|