Stuck In The Middle And Blue!

1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 The earlier you’re there
The harder it gets
To simply click through a turnstile
And ascend concrete steps.

2 Leave a comment on verse 2 0 Sounds simple enough? Too right it does
At least to a working class poet like me
Well how come in West London there’s always a fuss
Every other Saturday, just after two fifteen?

3 Leave a comment on verse 3 0 New technology? Do me a favour
The turnstiles of old rarely failed
We never had thousands of latecomers
Like the ones we have now of a match day.

4 Leave a comment on verse 4 0 Half an hour before kick off I stood there
With the multitudes venting their angst
Thank God for the wonderful new songs on the air
That helped pacify put upon fans.

5 Leave a comment on verse 5 0 Their plastic cards? Ain’t worth a dinar.
Season tickets? What do they mean?
Entry to London Underground is easier by far
Touch an old fashioned ticket, you’re in.

6 Leave a comment on verse 6 0 Anger increases to neigh mass hysteria
As pre match warm up is over we’re told
We’re still stuck outside as the two teams appear
Oi you! Roman Abramovich, bring back them turnstiles of old.

7 Leave a comment on verse 7 0 Us clients left exposed to the elements
Are paying an absolute fortune
For the privilege of what, so you fat cats in our boardroom?
Wait for the inevitable to happen, due to a dated inept entry system?



Stamford Bridge, West London, yesterday afternoon at about 2-30, gaining entry to the end of the ground where I sit (Matthew Harding Stand lower) is getting worse, due to a fan (sic) tastic new state of the art plastic ticket computer tecnology!

Right here we go: us fans queue up with a plastic card in our hand (nothing wrong with that) then as you crawl to the front of the queue, a security guard takes your ticket off you or makes sure you show the correct side to a scanner. With me so far, good? A green light flashes if your cards okay, red if it isn’t. Then you can go in to the turnstile, but only if the fan before you is safely through and out the other side, where and when another security guard will say it’s okay for you to proceed on through.

Now I’m no mathmatician but we’ve now got two blokes trying to do what used to be one blokes job at a quarter of the speed of the old way of getting in, and if a red light shows and somethings wrong with your ticket, mayhem ensues as irate punters shout at you, the security blokes and anything else that takes their fancy!

Of course there are late comers coz the beers cheaper and better in the local pubs so I’m told or fans held up on public transport rushing to make the kick-off, but what about the punters who like me, turned up early?

This looks to me to be well dodgy, when there’s a big game on, it could turn absolutely mental, and so begs the question?

Some things are best left alone, are they not?

Why not bring back the old fashioned one person operated turnstiles?



Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/stuck-in-the-middle-and-blue/