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You're not in the clique mate.
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No Kenneth Williams?
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PG Wodehouse from the directors box. Pride Park, that verdant cathedral of sporting prowess, was teeming with eager souls, packed to the very rafters, for this monumental clash of titans vying for the coveted automatic promotion spot. As the erudite young Owen Bradley aptly remarked, one could almost taste the palpable tension hanging thickly in the air, stirring even the most stoic of hearts. Personally, I found myself afflicted with pre-match jitters of such magnitude that I could scarcely bring myself to partake of the morning repast. Indeed, so overcome was I by nerves that I instructed my trusty manservant, Jeeves, to consume it in my stead. The early setback of a hammy for the padel maestro Gayle did little to assuage the anxious throng, yet amidst the tumult, the bobble-hatted Warne, armed with nothing more than his boundless enthusiasm and a penchant for vigorous arm-waving à la Bradley, orchestrated a tactical masterstroke, deftly shuffling his substitute pack like a magician conjuring rabbits from a hat. And lo, it was the wand of Elder that proved the catalyst for glory, delivering a sublime cross to the onrushing buffalo, who, with a flourish of his head , sent the ball soaring into the net with all the grace of a virtuoso pianist striking the final chord of a symphony. Though much of the contest saw the Rams engaged in a valiant rearguard action, the stalwart trio of Cashin, Admirable Nelson, and the Dorian Gray-like Forsyth, aided by the cat-like reflexes of Wildsmith, formed an impenetrable bulwark against the relentless onslaught of their adversaries. With second place now firmly within their grasp, the Rams find themselves masters of their own fate, the jubilant cries of “Ebouuuuuuu” echoing like a chorus of angels as the final whistle heralds their triumph, accompanied by the joyous bounce of victory.
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CBT ?
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Defence cuts.
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The quagmire pitch claims another.
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Are you going as Shaun Barker ?
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Can’t you put him in the away end ?
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Derby 2 Bolton 0 Barks
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PG Wodehouse from the directors box. Ah, the evening’s contest at Pride Park unfolded with the gusto of a Shakespearean drama, as the gallant Rams, akin to valiant knights of yore, emerged triumphant amidst a pitch reminiscent of a canvas painted by the mischievous spirit of Brian Clough himself, urging the fire brigade to partake in an impromptu aquatic ballet ere the commencement of play. With Gayle’s finishing akin to the deft stroke of a master calligrapher, guided by a slide rule pass from the erudite Ward, who, one might surmise, holds not only the skills of a footballer but also the acumen of a learned mathematician, perhaps even boasting a degree in Trigonometry! And lo, as Hourihane dispatched the penalty with the finesse of an expert gamekeeper, one could envision him in tweed, calmly dealing with a pheasant in the countryside. Yet, amidst the jubilation, a brief moment of consternation ensued as Bradley, towering as a mighty oak, found himself outwitted by the nimble Smith, prompting a fleeting shadow of doubt. However, the benevolent Referee Breakspear, in an act of contrition for his prior transgression against Plymouth, showered cards upon the field like confetti, and in his wisdom, awarded the penalty that secured victory, leaving the vanquished Reading manager Selles resembling a gentleman who, having imbibed deeply from the cup of life, discovered naught but a lifeless beetle at its dregs. Now, the bobble-hatted Warne stands poised to confront what is heralded as the automatic promotion decider come Saturday, urging his valiant troupe to display their mettle and prove their worth upon the grand stage of sport. Truly, a spectacle of both triumph and tribulation, fit for the annals of sporting lore!
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CBT had a hat trick of assists v Reading back in October 👀
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Derby 3 Reading 0 Gayle