onionbagblog

I had the misfortune to watch a Championship match earlier. Christ, that was crap. Don’t let the fact that it was D***y Vs ‘Boro deceive you. I’m being objective when I declare once again: Christ, that was crap.

It sounds incredibly snobbish to say that the PL is where it’s at for me right now. It wasn’t always this way of course. But I have allowed my interest in the Championship to drift, with Forest no longer being involved.

I occasionally watch the blink and you’ll miss it goal fest that is the ITV4 Football League highlights on a Saturday evening. But it’s bloody hard going with the pace and goals that are flashed in front of your eyeballs.

The D***y Vs Boro slugfest was a wake up call for what fate possibly awaits Forest if we fuck up. Im stating the bloody obvious when I say that it would be a disaster for our club.

It was never meant to be this way. Even the planning documents for the stadium expansion had the line that it was “unlikely” that Forest will be relegated from the PL over the coming seasons. Can you imagine being the ticket office manager trying to shift 45,000 tickets for Forest Vs Portsmouth?

I’d like to think that we’d absolutely stroll through any season back in the Championship. But then again that’s what fans of L******er probably thought back in May. That first bounce back season in 1993-94 was also hard work for Forest.

The only saving grace from being back in the Championship would be a likely renewal of the D***y derbies. I haven’t missed them. They had become so intense. A break was needed.

All of which just confirms the natural order of things: Forest looking nervously down, D***y forever looking up.

The annual contesting of the New Year Day’s Cup at the Table of Dreams. Much like the Christmas Cup, there is no actual Cup. But that doesn’t make the competition any less fraught.

I tried to focus. Honest. But it was bloody freezing out there. I was distracted by what seemed like an army of dog walkers doing the New Year’s Day dog walking thing.

The scoreline wasn’t looking too healthy when I was 5-0 down. Hey! I know: how about a final decider game with winner takes all? Like a FOOL, she fell for it.

A few trick shots and some crafty spin, led to me walking home with the New Year’s Day Cup. I just need to find it first.

This wasn’t the outlaw album as advertised. It was country twee with only a slight hint of rebellion. There’s nothing dark or sinister, only country-lite songs that seem to be sung with a smile and no menace. Sure, you don’t always want gloom. But you don’t always want generic country crap either.

⭐ ⭐

The final game of wiff waff at the Table of Dreams ended in the same way that we started the year: I bloody lost, innit. The final scoreline of 4-1 sounds like a severe beating. Truth be told and I pushed her all the way. Honest.

Time was a little tight. We were playing under fading skies with the bloody Estuary Wilds sun fast disappearing behind us in the woods. One end of the table had a serious light advantage over the other. I would like to say that this impacted me. But we swapped end after each game.

We returned to the standard table tennis ball, rather than the wind heavy version. This led to a game of spin. I bloody love spinning the ball to showcase my skills. So what if it doesn’t always land on the other side of the table?

A gathering of local yoof were hovering nearby. At first I thought they were after a game. I think they were just bored local yoof kicking around, looking for some shit to do on New Year’s Eve.

There’s the possibility of the New Year Cup being contested in the morning. I’m not a betting man, but already my odds are looking a little long.

THREE pairs of tights were needed for the New Year’s Eve roll out. We started off with the temperature barely above freezing. The dial didn’t move when we headed back to base a couple of hours later.

Brrrrr. That was a bloody cold one.

We played it safe with the tried and tested Bobby George BONER route. I know every kerbside, pothole and potential danger spot inside out. I wasn’t taking any risks on New Year’s Eve.

That still didn’t stop FOUR dickhead motorists from deciding to close pass us. On NYE ffs. It’s not so much the danger that it puts us in; it’s the bloody pain of uploading four separate video clips to Essex Police each time.

But I am a persistent bugger, if nothing else. If you close pass me, I’ll dob you in to the police. I see it as my duty to try and stop you from intimidating other cyclists. So there. Happy bloody New Year, etc.

The rest of the ride was pretty uneventful. We passed some road kill by the side of the road. I think it was a fox. Poor thing. Betcha he didn’t have an on board video cam.

An optimistic ice cream van was trying to conjure up some NYE trade towards the Sunny Colch end approach of the ride. Good luck with that one, fella. We pressed on to Lidl and stocked up with some cheapo cheese instead.

Chapeau!

Over-produced. The songs would have benefitted more if they were raw. Sure, she has a half decent voice. But it’s also too AOL and MOR for me. No ta.

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The team news dropped. Shit. We’ve not got a lot on the bench, have we? And that’s quite some statement, considering £200M was spent over the summer months to make us have a squad capable of competing in two competitions.

Oh well. It’s a festive match, under the lights at the World Famous, and on the telly as well. Somehow the crowd always manages to raise the game and deliver on these occasions. Everton are bang average. This should be a positive way in which to end the year for Forest.

Oh dear.

I simply can’t make my mind up about this Forest team. We’re either full of potential talent, with a run going deep into the Europa League looks likely; or we’re piss poor and are BALLS DEEP in a relegation battle. After puffing and panting and coming away with no points, my thought process is starting to become a little clearer.

SHIT THE BED!

This wasn’t a bad watch, but it wasn’t exactly the classic Forest style of play. Yes, we had possession down the wings and were able to put in our trademark crosses and passing play. But there was no one there at the other end to deliver. It’s not surprising when Everton have two clogger centre halves who eat up these opportunities with ease.

My mind and attention started to drift. West Ham are 2-1 up at home to Brighton. I was now starting to feel very worried about the London Stadium away day next week.

Taiwo Time came way too early. I’m not even sure if we should still be having Taiwo Time to be honest. A move out to a Championship club or a mid-table German outfit would be a better fit. I can’t see what he has to offer Forest in 2026 as we try and progress away from survival mode.

But survival mode is exactly where we are as we prepare to welcome in the new year. Christ, this was depressing. I bloody hate Everton, not so much the club and the fans, but the mindset that somehow they pretty much always seem to turn us over when we know what we are capable of.

One step up, three steps back, no points.

It’s looking bleak for Forest over the coming months. The Sky cameras panned in on Edu, looking a little shifty in the Director’s Box. Sure, he’s an easy scapegoat. But it was all going so well until he rocked up at the World Famous.

MOM: Jimmy Garner. We could do with him back in our midfield tbh.

Tell It Like It Is

Lloyd Cole: Rattlesnakes and rim brakes

Dear fellow Nottingham Forest fans, there’s no excuse for poverty chanting

This has way more balls than I was expecting. It was also quite soulful in places. The hammond organ hangs it all together.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

I wanted to enjoy this. But it dragged. The rhythm and bounce of the album starts off decent. But then nothing much changes. You’ve heard it all after the first couple of tracks.

⭐ ⭐