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HampshireSeagulls

Moulding Generation Z
Jul 19, 2005
5,264
Bedford
Ah, the delightful return of Selhurst Wonderland.

Having checked that tonight is not his night for shagging his sister, he decides to check the football results, and finds to his eternal joy that we lost to the top of the table team. Ignoring the fact that his shower of shit scraped a point against mediocre Coventry (lower than them in the table, let's not forget), he moves towards the computer.

Clicking rabidly to shut down the porn pop ups, pausing only momentarily as he recognises his Mum and at least three of his Dads, he tries to fire the remaining synapses to remember what he is doing in front of the computer. His trousers are done up, so he is not wanking. The webcam is not on, so his sister is not turning tricks. What can it be? It comes back to him slowly - he remembers that he must taunt Brighton.

He navigates using his famed one-handed typing skills to the team that he hates, but has taken enough interest in to join their noticeboard. Dribbling, and to the disjointed banjo tunes playing in the background, he posts what passes for a humourous statement in the slums of Croydon.

When the friendly natives respond, he reaches for his belt buckle and then the box of tissues. Annoyed that his Dad (well, an Uncle at least) seems to have used them up, he reverts to plan B - his sister's knickers again. They take a bit of unfolding and uncracking from their cardboard-like state, but he gets there in the end.

Finally, content that he has provoked a response, he logs off and waits for his turn on the family pets.

Cramped in that caravan, innit?
 








Ah, the delightful return of Selhurst Wonderland.

Having checked that tonight is not his night for shagging his sister, he decides to check the football results, and finds to his eternal joy that we lost to the top of the table team. Ignoring the fact that his shower of shit scraped a point against mediocre Coventry (lower than them in the table, let's not forget), he moves towards the computer.

Clicking rabidly to shut down the porn pop ups, pausing only momentarily as he recognises his Mum and at least three of his Dads, he tries to fire the remaining synapses to remember what he is doing in front of the computer. His trousers are done up, so he is not wanking. The webcam is not on, so his sister is not turning tricks. What can it be? It comes back to him slowly - he remembers that he must taunt Brighton.

He navigates using his famed one-handed typing skills to the team that he hates, but has taken enough interest in to join their noticeboard. Dribbling, and to the disjointed banjo tunes playing in the background, he posts what passes for a humourous statement in the slums of Croydon.

When the friendly natives respond, he reaches for his belt buckle and then the box of tissues. Annoyed that his Dad (well, an Uncle at least) seems to have used them up, he reverts to plan B - his sister's knickers again. They take a bit of unfolding and uncracking from their cardboard-like state, but he gets there in the end.

Finally, content that he has provoked a response, he logs off and waits for his turn on the family pets.

Cramped in that caravan, innit?

Well chuffed that you refer to me as 'delightful'.
As for the rest of the usual blah di blah blah....well,we drew a tough away game today,in spite of many behind the scenes difficulties with a proven manager.Your shiny new ground isn't doing much to stop your inevitable slide into Div 4,is it?
 








South Coast Eagle

New member
Oct 2, 2009
273
Ah, the delightful return of Selhurst Wonderland.

Having checked that tonight is not his night for shagging his sister, he decides to check the football results, and finds to his eternal joy that we lost to the top of the table team. Ignoring the fact that his shower of shit scraped a point against mediocre Coventry (lower than them in the table, let's not forget), he moves towards the computer.

Clicking rabidly to shut down the porn pop ups, pausing only momentarily as he recognises his Mum and at least three of his Dads, he tries to fire the remaining synapses to remember what he is doing in front of the computer. His trousers are done up, so he is not wanking. The webcam is not on, so his sister is not turning tricks. What can it be? It comes back to him slowly - he remembers that he must taunt Brighton.

He navigates using his famed one-handed typing skills to the team that he hates, but has taken enough interest in to join their noticeboard. Dribbling, and to the disjointed banjo tunes playing in the background, he posts what passes for a humourous statement in the slums of Croydon.

When the friendly natives respond, he reaches for his belt buckle and then the box of tissues. Annoyed that his Dad (well, an Uncle at least) seems to have used them up, he reverts to plan B - his sister's knickers again. They take a bit of unfolding and uncracking from their cardboard-like state, but he gets there in the end.

Finally, content that he has provoked a response, he logs off and waits for his turn on the family pets.

Cramped in that caravan, innit?

A very easy going read, emotional & heartfelt. Do you work for Mills & Boon?
 




South Coast Eagle

New member
Oct 2, 2009
273
Well chuffed that you refer to me as 'delightful'.
As for the rest of the usual blah di blah blah....well,we drew a tough away game today,in spite of many behind the scenes difficulties with a proven manager.Your shiny new ground isn't doing much to stop your inevitable slide into Div 4,is it?

Is that the Br*ghton version of the Guildford 4?
 
















hopper_182

Active member
Sep 25, 2008
645
Well chuffed that you refer to me as 'delightful'.
As for the rest of the usual blah di blah blah....well,we drew a tough away game today,in spite of many behind the scenes difficulties with a proven manager.Your shiny new ground isn't doing much to stop your inevitable slide into Div 4,is it?

Have you started paying the rent at Smellhurst again then?
 










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