We might return to the resigned, dry wryness of the 70s
People on the terraces said actual funny things. They didn't just spit vile abuse at their own manager.
Deep into another 0-0 draw, one of our blundering, semi-co-ordinated 'footballers' shanks one high and wide onto the roof of the North Bank and the bloke next to me, a fat lad in a flasher's mac tied with string around his waist, says absolutely deadpan, "I'll get it."
I'm actually píssing myself even now. "I'll get it." The lad was a comedy fúcking genius.
I was at a Palace match about 10 years old when our keeper made a good save and held on to the ball well. Big grown up behind us shouted '****ing hell, the ball stuck to his hands like **** to a blanket'
Now I'm a bit older I get what he was saying
'Seems that I was busy doing something close to nothing
But different than the day before'
'Met a dwarf that was no good, dressed like Little Red Riding Hood'
'Now you're unemployed, all non-void
Walkin' round like you're Pretty Boy Floyd'