I have an old long sleeved 'Clubhouse' home shirt to give away - it's x-large - 46/48" (these days I'm a 40"). It's a bit rare as no sponsor on the front (would have been CSF or Compaq at this time). It's not been worn for donkeys years, just given it a wash to make sure no moths lurking.
If anyone wants it drop me a reply, can post or bring to the Brainfart game.
Just thinking about the possible expense of hiring a new manager etc (assuming we don't see a rapid improvement) does anyone know if that effects the backroom staff (Eustace etc)? I wasn't sure whether the club appointed them individually or if they came as a package (i.e. they all go at once). I know in the past with Hughes and HR that they brought their own entourage of hangers-on / Bondy on the piano, but I got the impression that the club may have hired our coaches on a one-by-one basis. I'm sure someone on here will be ITK about this?
QPR draw Blackburn in season 2017/18 at home (again). Due to a nervous breakdown, a BBC executive decides to televise the game and schedules it for midday on Sunday and there is a tube strike. To the nearest 1, what is the attendance? (show your workings on a beer mat / fag packet).
Owing to sado-masochistic tendencies, Clive decides to attend every QPR FA Cup fixture until he sees them win. Given recent form, in which decade is Clive likely to see this happen?*
*For exam purposes, it may be assumed that Clive is immortal.
Q3 Chemistry / Biology:
Fred meets Bob in a pub and tells him he has a spare ticket for QPR's 3rd round fixture away to Blackburn / Blackpool / Black Sabbath and he is prepared to give it to him free of charge. Bob initially declines as he is planning to wash his hair / self-flagellate with stinging nettles. What types / quantities of substances will Fred use to persuade Bob to give it a go?
The 'road to Wembley' leads you to this. Of what use was the road?
Time allowed: 90 minutes (plus stoppage time for time wasting / injury to Sandro)
With the fallout of the referendum and the usual dismal display by England's footballers, the general mood has been - understandably - rather gloomy this week.
Taking a leaf from our own glorious club with their new badge and kit launch, I think it may be time that England had a re-branding exercise to cement our place in the brave post-EU world. This need not be restricted to a new name, but a whole new ethos / culture. We also desperately need a new flag - I'm not being flippant but a red cross on a white background is, frankly, bland at best. Look at Wales - they have a mythical creature. It depicts strength and it's interesting to look at. Brazil has a picture on its flag as well - I think it's a bowling ball or something, but you see what I'm getting at. When you see those white vans flying the red cross flags it reminds you of UN ambulances at a war scene - white stands for surrender and a red cross is a sign of illness / peril. It's not right and it's time to embrace change.
Any suggestions are welcome, but turning to a new name I'm thinking of the following as initial working titles:
Aquafresh / Poundland / Galabingo (dynamic) Peoples Republic Of Nigel South Scotchland Drabb / Dripp / Twott / Flopp (easy to spell / text) Xenophobia / Whitevanland / Kyle / Lager (cultural) Greyland (similar to Greenland so could cause some confusion) Bumcivilian
We also need that new flag - and possibly a motto or slogan. A new national anthem wouldn't go amiss.
It's going to be a brave new world after Brexit. Don't just embrace change - take it home, handcuff it to the bed and smother it with peanut butter.
I'd like some contributions. All can be sent to my underground command bunker on the outskirts of Basingstoke (look out for the abandoned shopping trolley just after the Burger King Drive-Thru)
Looking in the mirror this morning, I noticed for the first time that my eyebrows were starting to go a bit 'Dennis Healey'. I had to take my razor to them to have a tidy-up. More alarming was the hair that was starting to emerge from my ears. I'm now 47 and seem to be making the transformation (gradual, I hope) to old git. I was reminded about Billy Connolly's comments about his pubes going grey and remarking that his todger looked a bit like Stewart Grainger from a certain angle.
I suppose that there comes a time when one simply can't be arsed about appearance, but I imagine I'm a few years shy of that right now.
Can anyone here offer me any consolation and (more to the point) - those who have experienced such follicular manifestations, what other horrors do I have to look forward to?
Just a quick one to all posters on this board to say have a great Christmas and New Year break. I couldn't get you all presents, but I did manage to secure a signed photo of Diane Abbott for Disco, and a tour package of the Ricoh Stadium for Clive (I heard he really likes it)...
I think you lot should put your thinking caps on and suggest some other presents for the esteemed members of this board.
Just nipping off to the River Café in sunny Hammersmith for a long lunch...
...which is nice...
PS - as an afterthought, thanks to those who sponsored me (Konk was the first) for my London Marathon effort (well, I finished it, so a bit more than an 'effort' I suppose!) I received some fantastic messages of support from fellow Rs and was really touched by those.
On the day of this most momentous sporting occasion, I thought I should construct a few lines to celebrate our impending victory (of which I am supremely confident)...
The famous Rangers march to 'The Cottage', some coming from as far as Pease Pottage (probably).
The scene is set for an overdue win, With the blue and white hordes making a din (probably).
The natives of Fulham wear corduroys of red, They have heard of Charlie Austin and are full of dread.
They believe their hero Ross McCormack is immense, but underestimate The Hoops and their rock-solid defence (probably).
Chris Ramsey is our leader, tactically he is a God, (although his continued selection of Karl Henry is, frankly, a bit odd) He stands on the touchline with his throne wove of wool* Pulling no punches, talking no bull.
Shalid Khan watches from The Cottage, his shame complete, He cannot believe the scale of this defeat. Austin hits a brace, and there's another one from Faurlin, Everyone agrees that Fulham's defence is 'appallin' (geddit???)
High up in the stands sits our Fulham friend, Konk, Wishing he was back in bed with his wife having a nice cup of Earl Grey.