Unbelievable Strike
¶ 1
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Andros Townsend’s flash of sweet brilliance volleys Palace ahead, goal of the season, any season. To add to this wave of unreality I’m holding high an un-tethered sky-blue seat. We go on to win 3-2. The stewards ask for the seat back, I gladly hand the culprit over, and point to my bleeding leg.
We feast on cakes, biscuits, and beer, offer passengers opportunity to share in our delight. Sumptuous Bakewell Tarts and fondant fancies, fashioned to carry our day of sugar rush surprises.
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