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Norfolk Jim arrived home at 4am
concerned about the stewarding.
‘The club should have a look at this’
he commented, ‘it’s no good
loading seats onto season tickets,
it’s a recipe for carnage.’
A freight train had stopped at Manningtree;
Is this a metaphor for anything?
Could our european dreams
freefall like our fans in Turin,
so carelessly picked up, cast about
and lobbed across the seating?
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For Jim, there’s a third, more memorable option.
Financially bereft, in the quicksand of ‘bad debt’-
like the chairman of Portsmouth- Jim will reflect
from his caravan, in a state of wanton
bedragglement, on that night in Hamburg:
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Fans were thrown around like celery
but Jim had gone cold turkey
on the notion of social responsibility
he held in Turin. Now the chips were
coming in, soon we all had double vision:
‘Let’s go flipping mental’ cried Jim
as he climbed upon the catering facilities
and hit the ground in a single movement,
threw a beach ball over the railings
to the ‘anti-madridistas.’