Suddenly, I wake with a start on the sofa. The room is filled with a cold stench of scotch and tobacco.... the usual. I turn to find the note left purposefully on the arm. It was her writing, the envelope smelled of her perfume. She gets everywhere.
I hope Hughton's got Tiote in a fucking cage this week and feeding him on scraps of raw meet and chucking cold water over him while he sleeps.
Take him out on Sunday and watch him fuck Cattermole up!
Ryan Taylor must be wondering what he has to do to get a start. A shit James Perch, an unfit Danny Simpson, goals, assists, going round and kissing Nolan's and Carroll's arse after the Range Rover incident...