‘Ladies, gents of the jury
Prepare yourselves for this ghastly story.
‘Cause today we’ve brought before you all
a very poor fan of football.
A man who doesn’t go or much know or really care
Unless he’s told of what might unfold
From the comfort of his armchair.
Who confesses that on a Sunday he likes to do a spot of gardening
Get his callouses hardening
Or else simply do nothing
Before giving his face a good stuffing
With the latest Sunday joint.
Whilst his team are scrapping
For a hard-earned point.
‘I’m sorry but football’s just not that thick in my blood.
That’s all I’ve got to say m’lud.’