If got off the sofa and was heading to the fridge, I knew it was going in the moment the cross went in. I can’t understand why Welbeck didn’t chop the runner down...
My stream froze and missed the goal until it came back with Benteke celebrating. Then it was a quizzical "fecking hell.....not Benteke...... surely?!!"
Believe it or not, I called it as they headed down the left wing, it was inevitable, after our 15 minute barrage, Palace fake injury, momentum lost, poor substitutions/tactics, it was coming, in spades. We faded, conceded and lost.
Probably muttered some **** based phrase and logged off.
I just stared, slack-jawed. Then I swigged the dregs from my can of Holsten, walked into to the hallway, and drop-kicked the empty can the length of the hallway with a resounding "F*CK". It clattered (satisfyingly) into the front door, which set the Doris off upstairs. "What was THAT ?? What you DOING ??"
I retreated to my armchair, and massaged my forehead for a while.
I went from an upright sitting position on my settee, to horizontal on my side clasping my head with my elbows saying words to the affect of "I don't believe this!". There were tears in my eyes. I keep having flash-backs of that goal. I couldn't sleep last night, and struggled to eat my breakfast. I have been in mourning most of the day.
I've just seen the Tracker. Feeling much, much better now. We're going to give someone a really good hiding soon and I believe it will be West Brom on Saturday.