Jack Straw
I look nothing like him!
This time of year, my house is like a scene from Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds", only with clothes moths.
I hate the little buggers, and this is why.
In 1983, when we went to Wemberley, to play Man United and make history, I, as all Albion fans did, bought a flag.
My flag went to both Wembley games, spent a while stuck in my CB radio aerial socket on the rear bumper of my Datsun Cherry whilst driving around for a few weeks over this period, and after the elation of a cup final appearance waned, I twiddled the stick to wrap the flag neatly for storage under my bed.
In 1985, I moved house. In the process of packing everything up for the removal van, I rediscovered my precious Wembley flag.
I hadn't unfurled it for two years.
I excitedly unfurled it in anticipation of a nostalgic wave, only to find the f***ing clothes moths had moved in and eaten three quarters of it.
I was basically waving about a pair of string underpants on a stick.
What was left was a grave yard of pupae where the moths had made their homes, laid their eggs, and hatched in to fully grown clothes moths. They had munched their way through a priceless souvenir to render it useless.
I'll never forgive them.
Get clapping everyone. Together we can wipe the fuckers out.
There's one now.....I'll get you, you.......CLAP. Bollocks. Missed.
There's another one. Where are they all coming from?
I hate the little buggers, and this is why.
In 1983, when we went to Wemberley, to play Man United and make history, I, as all Albion fans did, bought a flag.
My flag went to both Wembley games, spent a while stuck in my CB radio aerial socket on the rear bumper of my Datsun Cherry whilst driving around for a few weeks over this period, and after the elation of a cup final appearance waned, I twiddled the stick to wrap the flag neatly for storage under my bed.
In 1985, I moved house. In the process of packing everything up for the removal van, I rediscovered my precious Wembley flag.
I hadn't unfurled it for two years.
I excitedly unfurled it in anticipation of a nostalgic wave, only to find the f***ing clothes moths had moved in and eaten three quarters of it.
I was basically waving about a pair of string underpants on a stick.
What was left was a grave yard of pupae where the moths had made their homes, laid their eggs, and hatched in to fully grown clothes moths. They had munched their way through a priceless souvenir to render it useless.
I'll never forgive them.
Get clapping everyone. Together we can wipe the fuckers out.
There's one now.....I'll get you, you.......CLAP. Bollocks. Missed.
There's another one. Where are they all coming from?