Jonny_Stokes
Dan Agyei Appreciator
Just think what you missed out on
Herpes?
Just think what you missed out on
Dear Jonny
Serious part first: would you be able to put me in touch with anyone in the Orient fan base who was instrumental in getting your club back?
Urgent more important part: what kinda guy are you..... fish supper - cous cous brunch - kipper breakfast - steak meal
much love
Scott aka your arch nemesis for over 15 years
After tonight I’m re-reading your post and thinking maybe it’s about to become reality.Hi FF!
I’m glad I’m answering this question on a sunny morning in a cheerful mood otherwise this might make depressing reading!
I’ll skirt the trips to our fallen League brothers - everyone knows that Torquay and Notts County are two of the best away days in the country, and not to wear colours when visiting the Neanderthals up at Wrexham, right? - and instead concentrate on some of the more, er, ‘charming’ grounds you may visit.
Can thoroughly recommend Maidenhead. Lovely ground, setting, pubs and the opportunity to sing unpleasant songs about Theresa May. As for the best of the rest, well there’s Woking and... errr. Well, we’re penetrating deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness aren’t we? Um. Where was I...?
Ah yes, the National League. Important to accept that you’re going to take a proper ‘welcome to non-league’ shellacking somewhere you’ve never played in your entire history. 4-1 at Eastleigh. 5-0 at Kings Lynn. 6-1 at Bromley... You’re going to have a dream about being a large fish in a small pond, waltzing to the title. Unfortunately, we live as we dream - alone. While the dream disappears, the life continues painfully. When you look at the table in November and yourselves 10 places below Solihull Moors, it’ll feel like the club you’ve followed for decades has died. You’ll stop caring as much, but know that you’re not alone...
...I have wrestled with the National League. It is the most unexciting contest you can imagine. It takes place in an impalpable greyness, with nothing underfoot, with nothing around, without spectators, without clamour, without glory, without the great desire of victory, without the great fear of defeat, in a sickly atmostphere of tepid scepticism, without much belief in your own right, and still less in that of your adversary.
When we got murdered at Fylde, I remember the change that came over my friend’s features. I had never seen it before, and hope never to see again. He cried in a whisper at some image, at some vision—he cried out twice, a cry that was no more than a breath: “‘The horror! The horror!”
I think I need a lie down.
Love,
Uncle Jonny
Jonny,
In the Bananarama will I be able to take my dog to watch games or is that lower down the pyramid still?
Can beer be drunk in the grounds?
What round will we be knocked out of fa cup?
MG