You humans do seem to like your lists at this time of year, and even try to put them to song occasionally. Take a tip from me… don’t do it! The following is not a list, it is my topical manifesto adding to the seasonal football overload; particularly as the locals here have been going through a megalomaniac-inspired, finance-confused, football-knowledge-free, pantomime of farcical proportions. After all of last week’s threats that the Cardiff City FC Manager was minutes away from the sack, the announcement this week that he remains in post ‘for the foreseeable future or until things change‘ sheds much light on the stability of a managers position… he is clearly now promoted to the security of being hours from potentially being sacked instead of minutes.

Anyway, Southampton FC must be wondering whether santa has left them a delayed gift as they arrive today to play a team and club in utter turmoil! But my ‘source of in-house erudition‘ says beware of the rabid dog with one eye hanging from its socket and sharpened teeth dripping with steamy green saliva… whereas I say beware of any dog (except Molly and Jack who bought me a christmas stocking gift). So, what is likely to be taking place here in God’s Own City this Boxing Day afternoon?

12 Bluebirds chanting…

11 Saints for slaying…

 

 

 

10 world class saves…

9 ayatollahs…

8 pitbulls snarling…

7 pinpoint Whittingham wonders…

             

6 (66) versions of looney tunes…

5 TENSE MONTHS (until survival in May)…

4 captain Caulkers…

3 great fight-backs…

2 bruised egos still fighting…

And a partridge in the City Arms! How much chance do you think we have of winning today Sean (Partridge)?

Ouch! Come on, that’s a bit harsh.

Meanwhile on the pitch… the home team are without their pitbull, the expected wonders seem to have been left behind with the leftover turkey, and the locals are caught between chanting for the saving of their manager and the disappointment with their team’s poor performance. Sean seems to have predicted it correctly as the slaying is being done from the outset by the Saints. Clinical Southampton players out-fight, out-think and out-play their Cardiff counterparts to go 3-0 up with barely half an hour gone. Boxing Day for the home team looks like becoming an embarrassment.

Hanging on desperately until half-time the ragged band of red-coated bluebirds are about as clear in their style of play as they are in their team colours and name. Surely the second half will bring some redemption:

For Southampton it continues in the style of a training ground practice match, encouraging their own fans to taunt the locals. Cardiff make some changes of personnel and toil desperately to make something happen. But, as the second half draws to a close it becomes clear the Malky’s Marauders have been tamely put to the sword by the Saintly Slayers of Southampton… 0-3!

‘Resident masochists‘ have heads in hands muttering something about despair, so I am a quietly sniggering Juno feigning sympathy until we speak again.

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