psychotic.fox
New Member
while watching the telly , i had a moment of literatic inspiration, so i put pen to paper and a pile of turd was created.................
The Quack
I was sat on that bench on the towpath, just across the canal from the Walkers stadium, catching a bit of spring sunshine and wondering what the hell i was gonna do for 3 months before the new season started. I took a long drag on a herbal cigarette that id just bought from this bloke called winston, when my view of the walkers stadium was rudely blocked by this tall bloke wearing a leather flying jacket , shitty jeans and a knitted scarfe.
then in a southern accent he said'' i'm the quack , i'm here to help.''
''Help with what'' i replied
''Help with all that pisses you off '' he said.
The only thing that pissed me off just then was this bloke, that i could only be described as either an anoying drunk or a nonce trying his luck, who was standing in front of me.
''Well, '' i said, '' if you can sort that shower of shite out over there, i wont push you in the cut''.
''Its a fine stadium,even better than the sheeps new ground'' he retorted back'' whats wrong with it?''
i spent a few moments telling him that apart from the prospect of having egg chasing misddle-class henries there next year, i was totally delighted with the ground, i told him that what really got up my goat was the apparent waste of space the club has been in recent years.
i went on to explain that the club never seems to actually achieve anything in the long term . Occasionly weve had a spurt of inspiration and the odd micky mouse cup win, or a season or 2 when weve finished in a safe position, but then someone comes along and knackers what slender strip of success we could muster.
At that moment the bloke stood in front of me pointed to the sky and exclaimed in a loud voice'' I'M THE QUACK AND I CAN HELP''
He went on ''All we need to do is find the route cause of the problem and change history''.
''Bollox'' i thought,'' there must be something wrong with these herbal cigarettes, im beginning to believe this bloke''.
we took a short walk to the car park where his leyland daf lorry cab was parked.
''The tools of destiny'' he said as he kicked the offside tyre of his old ''D'' reg cab with the letters TARDIF sprayed down the side.
''what does TARDIF stand for '' i asked.
''Time and relative dimension in football'' he replied
he unlocked the door and told me to get in .
Now i really dont make a habit of getting into strangers vehicles, and niether should any of you. its potentially dangerous and also very stupid.
had there been the mention of puppies or sweets then this story could not have been finished off.
So i climbed up inside the tardif and was totally amazed at what i saw. the tardif was just as big on the inside as it was on the outside, but with one distinct feature. Looking out of any of the windows all i could see was Vale park. not eastern boulevard where we were parked but vale park, as in the half built shitehole in stoke where Steve Guppy used to play.It was as though the quacks tardif (leyland daf cab) was actually there.
''An optical illusion. '' said the quack.''The tardif is always at vale park, it blends in well with all the other old lorry cabs and sheds on top of the main stand.'' he continued. '' the tardif is descuised as an executive box.''
confused as hell , i took my last drag of herbal ciggy and thought of my last trip to vale park where , yes, behind the old main stand there really was a line of old lorry cabs and greenhouses , blimey wot a great descuise i thought, personally ive have used a police box but there you go.
So my quest with the quack to find the route of leicester citys problems had started.
''Where or when shall we go '' asked the quack.
it was obvious, i thought , the start of all leicester's problems and years of crap was the run up to the Frank McLintock season.
maybe if Jimmy Bloomfield hadnt stayed so long things could have been so very different...................................
The quack set the date, and within moments we had travelled back in time to january 1975. ''Time to do my stuff '' said the quack as he got out the tardif.
the rest is history.
Just before he was due to sign for F****t , Brian Clough signs for Leicester, who go on to win their first league title 2 years later .
they win the european cup a few times along with countless other fa cup and league cup finals. Martin oniell takes over in 1995, and leads the biggest club in england to further honours snubbing a move to a small scottish team called celtic in 2001........
and as every story ends '' they all lived happily ever after'' . well they did , but only after that annoying bloke who blows the horn all the way through matches was shot in the head with a 12 bore.
The Quack
I was sat on that bench on the towpath, just across the canal from the Walkers stadium, catching a bit of spring sunshine and wondering what the hell i was gonna do for 3 months before the new season started. I took a long drag on a herbal cigarette that id just bought from this bloke called winston, when my view of the walkers stadium was rudely blocked by this tall bloke wearing a leather flying jacket , shitty jeans and a knitted scarfe.
then in a southern accent he said'' i'm the quack , i'm here to help.''
''Help with what'' i replied
''Help with all that pisses you off '' he said.
The only thing that pissed me off just then was this bloke, that i could only be described as either an anoying drunk or a nonce trying his luck, who was standing in front of me.
''Well, '' i said, '' if you can sort that shower of shite out over there, i wont push you in the cut''.
''Its a fine stadium,even better than the sheeps new ground'' he retorted back'' whats wrong with it?''
i spent a few moments telling him that apart from the prospect of having egg chasing misddle-class henries there next year, i was totally delighted with the ground, i told him that what really got up my goat was the apparent waste of space the club has been in recent years.
i went on to explain that the club never seems to actually achieve anything in the long term . Occasionly weve had a spurt of inspiration and the odd micky mouse cup win, or a season or 2 when weve finished in a safe position, but then someone comes along and knackers what slender strip of success we could muster.
At that moment the bloke stood in front of me pointed to the sky and exclaimed in a loud voice'' I'M THE QUACK AND I CAN HELP''
He went on ''All we need to do is find the route cause of the problem and change history''.
''Bollox'' i thought,'' there must be something wrong with these herbal cigarettes, im beginning to believe this bloke''.
we took a short walk to the car park where his leyland daf lorry cab was parked.
''The tools of destiny'' he said as he kicked the offside tyre of his old ''D'' reg cab with the letters TARDIF sprayed down the side.
''what does TARDIF stand for '' i asked.
''Time and relative dimension in football'' he replied
he unlocked the door and told me to get in .
Now i really dont make a habit of getting into strangers vehicles, and niether should any of you. its potentially dangerous and also very stupid.
had there been the mention of puppies or sweets then this story could not have been finished off.
So i climbed up inside the tardif and was totally amazed at what i saw. the tardif was just as big on the inside as it was on the outside, but with one distinct feature. Looking out of any of the windows all i could see was Vale park. not eastern boulevard where we were parked but vale park, as in the half built shitehole in stoke where Steve Guppy used to play.It was as though the quacks tardif (leyland daf cab) was actually there.
''An optical illusion. '' said the quack.''The tardif is always at vale park, it blends in well with all the other old lorry cabs and sheds on top of the main stand.'' he continued. '' the tardif is descuised as an executive box.''
confused as hell , i took my last drag of herbal ciggy and thought of my last trip to vale park where , yes, behind the old main stand there really was a line of old lorry cabs and greenhouses , blimey wot a great descuise i thought, personally ive have used a police box but there you go.
So my quest with the quack to find the route of leicester citys problems had started.
''Where or when shall we go '' asked the quack.
it was obvious, i thought , the start of all leicester's problems and years of crap was the run up to the Frank McLintock season.
maybe if Jimmy Bloomfield hadnt stayed so long things could have been so very different...................................
The quack set the date, and within moments we had travelled back in time to january 1975. ''Time to do my stuff '' said the quack as he got out the tardif.
the rest is history.
Just before he was due to sign for F****t , Brian Clough signs for Leicester, who go on to win their first league title 2 years later .
they win the european cup a few times along with countless other fa cup and league cup finals. Martin oniell takes over in 1995, and leads the biggest club in england to further honours snubbing a move to a small scottish team called celtic in 2001........
and as every story ends '' they all lived happily ever after'' . well they did , but only after that annoying bloke who blows the horn all the way through matches was shot in the head with a 12 bore.
