Hello, how are you?

Hope you’re doing well? On Saturday Oct 5th at 3.00pm (western European time) sees the mighty Cannon entertain at our shed the Sotonists of the deep south for target- practise and manoeuvres. A match-up which at this moment of writing gives Southampton a 5.9% of winning, so I’m sure ye old dark arts will be out and about even before All Hallows Eve comes around. Not that they’re that dark if everyone can see them and most teams sooner or later use them, so much for esotericism these days? Plus even if its irritating its not illegal, can you hear me Man City? Privileged City seem to think we should just all lie down and let them win, but why?

“you didn’t defend Stoke City usage of the dark arts though did you?”

“of course not, like most humans I’m a slippery hypocrite!”

To round up of this first part of the seasons tedious previews, I do have one really pathetic story concerning Southampton and Arsenal. Over thirty six summers ago, I dated a girl who had moved down to Southampton to attend college. I was living in another part of the county at the time and it took at least eight gruelling hours on the bus to get my Arsenal all the way down there for a visit. The first time I turned up I got drafted into her landlords indoor seven-a-side team, by then I had zero interest in playing and didn’t do too much and was subbed off at HT. A situation that was to the advantage of everyone concerned. But my footballing days were not to be the only demise I would experience in that city… 

Some months later, after one utterly monumental, endless -grind of a journey where I emerged from the bus looking and feeling like the living dead, having endured ten hours (life’s ref had added and extra couple of hours for punishment)of travel torture. Later, sometime around midnight I found myself getting (quite unexpectedly)the old heave-ho (how marvellous!), the whole reasoning was never really explained to me as why I was getting the tin (a new billy soy of course, pastures green and me being a tool), and why a phone dumping hadn’t sufficed I have no idea, certainly would have been much more convenient all round.

As you can imagine I was pretty irritated and slunk off in some room or other to be alone with my ego as it tortured me over the whole situation. Meanwhile the Arsenal were in action on the radio against, yep old Southampton themselves. Now some months before, there had been an incident, a post coital one, that went like this: I have ADHD so the old mind flits an flutters all over the show, anyway, it was about 5.45pm so time for the results and I asked her to put the radio on to hear them as they came in, as she was nearest to the set. Man, she went fkn nuts! Somehow this was never really forgotten and that incident made it into her black-book of injustices. 

Later, back at the dumping ground, she came in the room to see how I was suffering just as the Southampton/Arsenal result was being reported on: 3-1 to the Gunners, so I gave it the big one, acting all superior like a ten year-old kid would, I might have got the boot but the mighty Arsenal, my true partner, had triumphed over the place where she lived and its football team and of course her negation of me! COYG! I deserved an award for being such a tool, she didn’t even like football, let alone Soton. Utterly pathetic, but quite amusing how in my undignified torment I could take the victory for myself! Seems quite a regular footballing occurrence?

“erm, I think you need to see a psychiatrist, perhaps five times a week”

Interlude: A quick dance through my Southampton music of time… Mick Channon’s windmill arm celebrations, nice 80’s Subbuteo kit, The Dell, seeing the Guns lose there, Manninger had a howler, Matt Le Tiss scores a blinder, never been to St. Marys, loads of great players transferred from them; Walcott, Beefy, Ainsley, LBM, 1976 cup final-Stepney can’t reach Turners shot down to his left, bit of a bogey team in the Weng years except for the cauldron of sweat final in 2003, Alan Ball, Steve Williams, Ken Monkou, berth 44 on the docks, Aaron, you say goodbye, we say hello. Fin.

Ok, back to the more important subject of physics: Southampton come to us having taken a bit of a battering in this early part of the season. One of five teams that haven’t notched up a win yet, although perhaps they were unlucky to not beat Ipswich?

So the old Sotonists head to head with the Arse be: We’ve won 53, drawn 30 and they’ve won 23. Our first meeting was back in 1927 in the FAC and we triumphed 2-1. We didn’t play again until 1966. Our last three meetings with them has been LDD. Southampton don’t have the bookmakers backing at the moment as they only have 5.9% chance of winning against us (yes, you told us) so we don’t need to sell anything to anyone at the crossroads to get better. Begone! For nights swifts dragons cut the clouds full fast. And yonder shines Auroras harbinger; at whose approach ghosts wander here and there and troop home to churchyards. Damnèd spirits all that crossways and floods have burial, already to wormy beds are gone, for least day should look their shames upon. They willfully exiled themselves from light and must for aye consort with black- brow’d night!

Well that’s it, lots of bits and pieces that I’m sure have made you feel like reading the articles in pornographic magazines and ignoring the pictures.

Even so, here’s to a great game for us and lucky horses! 

COYG and keep on keepin’ on!

Mills