onionbagblog

The 3pm KO results did Forest no favours. A draw for Burnley, and late, late wins for both Leeds and West Ham. Bloody Agent Nuno! The pressure was on Forest for the evening telly game. Losing to Arsenal would mean that we are four points from the drop.

The team news landed. It looked decent, but wtf was the summer transfer window all about? £200M spunked, with only one summer recruit in the starting line up. JESUS, etc.

Forest got off to a decent start. This surprised me, and no doubt the 30,000 or so at the World Famous. Earlier in the afternoon I had told my Man Utd pal at Wiv Town that a two or three nil defeat would be fine. Just don’t bloody BATTER us on the telly.

Ana looked fighting fit. It’s too much to pin on one man, but he manages to balance the back four so we are a complete unit. Imagine what might have been if Wood hadn’t missed all season. Oh, and how about Nuno not shouting his mouth off as well? Why not go full circle and get Elanga back on loan. Sigh. We were bloody good last season.

Dominguez also impressed. He was clearly up for the scrap. This is exactly what we need right now. I remember during the first relegation season back in 1992-3 when a returning Neil Webb declared himself fit for BC, and ready to fight relegation. Webby was a classy player, but he was no Dominguez Dog of War. There’s no jingoism in there, btw. Phew.

I just knew Arsenal would score. That’s the Forest way - play well in front of the telly cameras, but then allow the big boys to take the lead.

Hang on, this hasn’t happened. Blimey. I went into HT feeling very happy.

Behind this resurgence was Murillo, MGW and Anderson all back on form. Every Forest player was a 7/10 or above as the game progressed. My optimism grew as the game continued knowing that we had Sels back in goal. wtf was Dyche thinking in dropping him?

The Ndoye sub was interesting. Dyche was clearly sending out a transfer window message to the Big Fat Greek. And to Taiwo. QPR would be a good fit for T right now. Or even D***y, for shit ‘n’ giggles.

Forest somehow got away with what I thought was a very valid penalty claim from Arsenal. You win some, you lose some.

Or rather you don’t. I’ve not celebrated a 0-0 draw with such enthusiasm for some time. We’re still deep in the relegation scrap. I hope we focus on the PL, and treat the Europa as a bit of a break. Dropping back down to the Championship horrifies me.

I arrived fashionably late at Broad Lane. No shit. Same as it ever was. I heard a lame cheer as I was locking my bicycle up. The Wiv cheer is often lame, but not as lame as this. Ah, so Needham Market Reserves must have scored. Arse. Whatever.

It was a murky, dull January afternoon across the bloody Estuary Wilds. I struggled a little with the light and photography. It’s best to focus on some of the characters, rather than the action shots. I was helped by a trip of Dad’s Army recruits as the officials. To be fair, the three Men in Black had a decent afternoon.

Needham Market Reserves were very young, and very skilful. They played a beautiful passing game, compared to the more hit it and hope effort from the Dragons. Fitness was also always going to come into this game. I feared for Wivenhoe with each passing minute.

The Dragons had their chances, but they weren’t hitting the target. I felt sorry for the fella heading back and forth, retrieving lost footballs from the car park.

The atmosphere picked up a little at the start of the second half. It was helped by standing next to a couple who were rolling up the most delightful tobacco. It wasn’t THAT type of roll up, but it did add a sweet smell along the empty terraces.

Having missed the first goal from Needham, I might as well miss the second. I was too busy tapping in the above para into my phone. It’s not called a Crap Match Report for nothing, Comrades.

We had to do a runner with the score at 2-0, and five minutes left in the game. Work shifts back at base, and the Forest game on the telly were both calling.

A brief look on X, and BLOODY HELL - the final score was Wivenhoe 1, Needham 3. And so I missed all four goals. Still, a decent game. I’m becoming rather fond of Wivenhoe Town these days.

A new gym opens at Palfrey Place, SW8. Back in the day and this would have been ideal for me. The motivation to get from the settee to a fitness station is only a two minute walk away. Getting from SW8 over to Brixton Rec to sweat your hairy arse off was sometimes a struggle.

I scroll down to the link in the local newsletter, taking me though to the website for the new gym. They’re a local set up, and not a chain. There’s a sister gym over in Herne Hill.

A quick shifty at the prices for circuit training, and SHIT THE BED, £16.50 for a 55 minute session. I pay double that for my entire monthly gym membership back in the bloody Estuary Wilds. This includes swimming, the spa, the entire gym floor and a a schedule of classes every day.

It’s all about the swimming for me. Oh, and falling asleep in the spa.

Am I really so out of touch with the cost of living shit? Sixteen chuffing pounds fifty for a circuit session? That’s my motivation knocked stone dead.

I’m not going to link to the new gym. Good luck, fellas, honest. I suspect there’s enough Bright Young Things around SW8 these days who will be around to make a success of it.

On Albert Island and Horn Stairs

To the Table of Dreams! …on Friday lunchtime. It’s been a while since we played an outdoor game of wiff waff. I’m calling this VERY early, but spring is starting to shoot up around us. I’m looking forward to hopefully nine months or so of outdoor table tennis, no wind, no rain.

And yep, we’ve had bloody loads of rain over the past few weeks. Just ask my roof - assuming ti could talk - and the repairs that are now needed. The positive effect of all the downpours was that The Table of Dreams was clean and almost looking box fresh. GAME ON.

We were both a little distracted with other shit going off around us at the moment. Which meant that concentration when it came to scoring was all over the bloody place. Let the record show that I was BATTERED 5-0. I’m always battered 5-0 tbh. But the odd point here and there may have gone a little astray.

The FUCK OFF dog that was out for his morning constitutional was most certainly not a little astray. What a unit! I’m not sure of the breed, but I’ve never seen a dog as large as this. He wasn’t fat, just big. The very friendly owner assured that he is still a puppy. The current daily diet is eight cans of food. TUCK IN, Bonzo.

The game of table tennis continued. But it was still a stop / start affair. I was caught short. I had to have a mad bathroom break to the nearby public toilets midway through one game. I returned more at ease with myself, but still lacking in skill.

A very dirty album. It sounds like there’s a lot to be said, but I’m not quite sure what the overall message is. It’s a rambling mess. Tunes are absent. The production is deep and fuzzy. It leaves you feeling as though you need to scrub your nails after listening. Old Nick has mellowed in the years that followed.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐

“I don’t want to pat myself on the back while the world falls to shite, but we’re really happy with this album and we hope you are too.”

Sleaford fucking Mods, innit.

Representin' The KLF

road.cc Recommends Bikes of the Year 2025/26: the best electric bikes

Chapeau!

Energy! Rawness! Rock ‘n’ Roll with cardigans! The Sonics were a new one for me. It’s quite a find. It’s an album that’s impossible to sit still whilst listening. I bet the live experience is where the real action was. It’s no masterpiece in terms of production, but that’s not the point. The Sonics sound like they genuinely believe in what they’re doing. Half an hour later and I was a convert.

⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

This sounds very dated now. It’s a sugar rush of an album that is very smooth. Almost too smooth. The vocals are sharp, she can clearly sing. It’s still a bit of a timewarp listen.

⭐ ⭐