DEM BLADES’ season-ending blip continues. We have dropped to fourth in the Liga table after a 3-1 away defeat by the Lie-Ins.
The Lie-Ins famous yawn was as headache-inducing as I remember. Millwall fans were the aggravating attention seekers that I remember too. It’s a bizarre logic that compels the Lie-Ins fans to spend most of the game not watching the football (although if I had to watch that drivel every single week, I might be tempted to do the same). Instead, most fans gazed longingly at DEM BLADES fans like a scruffy pining dog who hadn’t been walked in a week.
Millwall only have two chants, but I refuse to be drawn into a digression about how their inability to remember more than a few words is linked to their lack of intellect, questionable upbringing or attendance at school; because it would be unfair if they read this and had to try and work out what ‘digression’ means.
“No one like us, we don’t care.” Millwall fans, all the fucking time, 2017.
The ‘no one likes us’ chant has nothing to do Millwall’s hooligan or footballing background and everything to do with the pathetic narcissism of the social media generation. It is a cry for help, a desperate plea for a response, indeed, the Lie-Ins are the football equivalent of the overly dramatic Facebook post.
Like the majority, I’m ambivalent towards five-out-of-ten Millwall. Good ticketing pricing, terrible stadium. Loud fans, but very few of them. They are the London-based equivalent of say, a Carlise, or a Wrexham. Nobody cares about the Lie-Ins and this is what Millwall fans find so irksome. They want to be hated and vilified but at the end of the day, they are just beige.
Talking of beige, the heffer of a child who was lifted onto the barriers by his parents to goad DEM BLADES fans, was evidently a committed consumer of all things beige. Fish fingers, chips, beans, chicken nuggets, turkey twizzlers, potato smiles, potato waffles: that kind of beige.
His parents attempt to hoist his lardarse onto the railings was like watching Thumbelina and Tom Thumb trying to raise up Shrek. Father on one side and mother on the other, heaved his posterior until it was comfortably seated on the barrier facing DEM BLADES. Then the child, with pudding fists and chipolata fingers, hurled abuse and an empty crisp packet at the away fans. Whatever you think of Millwall fans, it’s always heartening to see parents break their back for their child.
DEM 90 Minutes
The spirit of Bassett versus the tactics of Bassett.
Up until this game, DEM BLADES had showcased a shit ton of expansive football. The quality has been in no small part, due to the excellent spirit within the team. Throughout the ninety minutes comprising this 3-1 defeat, the Basset-era-esque-spirit was nowhere to be seen. But it has not been lost, but temporarily misplaced in a crevice down the back of the sofa. It might be hard to reach, but I’m sure Chris Wilder will find it in time for Friday’s game with a pound coin and a cigarette lighter to boot.
The Lie-Ins comfortably won 3-1 and taught DEM BLADES a lesson in the art of aggressive hoofball. As soon as a Millwall player found themselves in possession of the football, they’d know what to do and complete a delightful hoof. It wasn’t necessarily directed at anyone, that was the point. They outfought DEM BLADES on the basis of winning second balls. They were shit, we were shitter, but we know how to bounce back.
Man of the Match
For the magnitude of his absence, Paul Coutts.
UP DEM BLADES