Welcome to Rowett's Corner - The Birmingham Edition. Make yourself comfy and do make use of the index of selected blog pieces below. 

Please click the title of the entry to be taken to the relevant page.

Enjoy 







- Barnsley

"Barnsley were the best footballing side we saw down St Andrews last season. They were bloody marvelous today too. Pass and move. Pass and move. Keep ball. Overseen by a manager that looks like Phoenix Night's 'Young Kenny'. It's an impressive duo, and they were well worth their lead."






- The Problem with this Norwich Malarky

"Let's be frank. They aren't Manchester United. It's not an obvious career progression."







 "The hordes of Donkeys fans in the John Merrick stand were incredulous, delaying their celebrations until witnessing Don Goodman in the skysports' commentary box banging the glass and dancing with impish glee."



 


 "Why couldn't the ground be isolated off a motorway and annexed to a Pizza Hut and a Mothercare on a tacky shopping complex?

That's what the Reading people like you see. The family club. Football, pizza and wet-wipes, all within reach of a solitary car park." 






"I'm in an unnamed burger bar at a service station near Peterborough, and I'm shaking with anger."






"I forced a smile of pity and patted the old man's shoulder in consolation. It was a small gesture, one to help soothe his woe."








"Their manager, a scrotal sack in a suit that's found a toupé, stares at us constantly. "







"Darren Carter - BRMB's answer to Jamie Redknapp - usually a cool and collected boy/man has to be restrained and held back in the press area by security. His face is red and he's lost his famed restraint."







"Crash! Into the perspex flew a toothless local."







"On the Maniche show - in that rented-out steam-room where the heat's been turned off and an increasingly bent, rocking, vulture-like Steve Claridge murmurs over epileptic footage of lower league football - they showed a rampant Blues display."







"If we could have seen Lady Luck today in heaven she'd have been spit roasted by Clough and Robin Hood. We can't compete with that, and we were punished for failing to win over the lecherous cow's affections."







"Today, Solihull an empty desert of fog and affluent houses, the infinite driveways stretching onto the abandoned roads. Too early for the commuters, even too early for the birds. Silence echoed through the byways save for our car radio muttering out 'Fisherman's Blues' on TalkSport."







"Colin Tattum's the polar opposite. Spending his days sitting at his desk in Blues Towers, with his servant girls oiling and massaging his bald head. As the emissary to the Blues gods, he farts in knowing acceptance every time they bequeath a message onto him as the official source."







"'What's your favourite sandwich Alex!?' hiccuped one fool in the darkened tavern.
'Ploughmans'
'Do you like us fans?' spurted a desperado.
'Aye'
'What's the score for Satdee?' mused a man in double-denim sitting under a spider-web."







 "Jowell's wrinkled face forced a false smile, revealing a hideous array of coffee-stained crooked yellow teeth. 'I ssssee. Well Mr Ellis, you will be aware that we'll need to scrutinise this bid and should it prove favourable, you'll be hearing from us.'"








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