The Life of Brian’s Statue: The Language of Love
I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many Union Jacks! They’re all around Market Square, and all the shops nearby have got them sellotaped right across their windows and doorways. If you’re a fan of red, white and blue then the City Centre is the place for you right now. Everyone’s all in a glow ’cause of the Royal wedding. Y’can’t beat a big wedding to get everyone together. Marriage is a wonderful institution.
I was lucky. My marvellous wife Barbara was one of the best, especially with some of the nonsense she had to put up with from me on a daily basis.
And I suppose y’could say that being the manager of a football club is a bit like being married. In that respect, I’ve had a few stormy times…
The fans are great, most of the time. I know I’ve had to speak out once or twice to ask them to moderate their language, but generally, football supporters aren’t a bad lot. Compared to some of the language in the dressing room, the chants from the fans are pretty tame.
But the thing is, the passion is so strong that sometimes, we all say things the wrong way. It’s not that important, as far as I’m concerned, to be correct in every way. As long as you’re honest.
The language of love can be like a car horn blaring, or like the rain pouring down onto a dusty street. It’s like a hundred thousand football fans or more, who desperately want their team to get through the play-offs and achieve promotion to the top flight.
But I suppose it’s a bit like William and Kate, if it’s meant to happen then it’ll happen. Let’s face it, Forest have tried and failed so many times now, they’re like a feller who gets stood up at the church over and over again. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. If I could ride shotgun for ’em I would do!
Y’never know, maybe they’ll make it this time. Then maybe we can draw a veil over the whole thing…