When computers first came out, Scunthorpe’s Council decided to add a rude word filter to all of their systems to stop employees abusing one another.
They entered all the rude words imaginable onto their filtering system to stop words/emails/etc being sent if they were deemed rude and inappropriate.
Unfortunately the new filtering software did not separate normal words that contained swear words in them for example, the word Scunthorpe… as a result all employees failed to log into their email system due to the fact that the C-Bomb was contained in their email address. Thus concludes my one and only story about Scunthorpe.
Thank you & goodnight!
I set off from my bachelors pad* at 6:30 in the morning to drive up to Guildford where Chiv and his lovely wife would be taxiing us all the way up to the land of the 80s.
I say that because everytime I’ve gone to places like Grimsby and Hull it seems stuck in the past. I didn’t actually get to see Scunny so I can’t comment on how out of date it was to the rest of the UK.
If you didn’t know Chiv has two children, whom we dropped off at their relevant friends/families houses for the day. I then felt like a third wheel, or their adopted child for the day as they sat me in the back of their Ford Monster Truck and gifted me sweets to shut me up for the journey.
Mrs Chiv drove the first half of the journey and then we stopped at services somewhere fairly northbound on the M1. She did mention prior to setting off that it might be worth stopping for fuel at the local Tescos, however Chiv through his impatience said no and hurried up our departure.
It was at this service station after consuming £11.50 fry ups that it dawned on him that the car might need topping up…
Adding to his breakfast bill he then topped up the car which still had a quarter of a tank left with service station fuel, at service station prices. I think they’ve had to take a new mortgage out to cover the costs of the journey.
Unfortunately, with Chiv driving that meant at some point when the conversation seized we’d be at the mercy of his Ipod playlists from his teenage girl years. That was my cue to put my headphones on and listen to my podcast from Trump to 50 things that made the Economy.
Speaking of podcasts here’s a shameless plug for Pompey Memes latest podcast featuring an interview with Chief Sports Writer of the Portsmouth News, Neil Allen.
I obviously had some sort of bad karma because my headphones stopped working at the point when Glee was blaring through the car stereo. It was then I contemplated hitchhiking a lift to Scunny from some trucker – anything is better than Glee.
Eventually when Chiv actually followed his Sat Nav we arrived at Glanford Park just before midday.
I was actually disappointed from the way the outside of the ground looked, for whatever reason I expected them to have a bigger ground but it seemed very small from the outside. My disappointment would only last until I entered through the turnstiles… TO BE CONTINUED.
Once we parked up in the fairly large car park we headed less than 5 minutes walk round the corner to the Hungry Horse on the same industrial estate as the ground. Beer and more food followed.
We lingered in the pub till about 1415 before we waddled on over with guts full of burgers and beers before heading into the ground.
You could be forgiven for thinking that the local constabulary were expecting trouble with the amount of meat wagons and plods around the ground and as a result I was expecting to be fully frisked once again before we entered the turnstiles.
That being said however the Scunthorpe stewards we encountered happened to be the most nicest and friendliest stewards I think I’ve ever met at an away game. It makes a change from nearly being stripped down to my kaks just to check if I’ve got a bottle top hidden up an orifice or two.
Glanford Park is small yes, however I happened to love it because it was a massive throwback to the 80s which after digging a lot of Northern cities for still living in that era it’s a decade I’m gutted I have never seen.
All four stands were no higher than the Milton End and were boxed around the pitch only a few metres away from grass.
A waist-height concrete wall was all that was stopping you from intruding the pitch and even all signs and advertisement boards look like they had never been changed.
It’s a shithole but I loved it. I need more grounds like that to visit than shit f****** bowls like any ground post 2000. My most favourite ground I’ve visited in a long time.
We decided it would be a good idea to linger behind the goal the players were warming up in. It’s great to see Luke McGee get so angry when he fails to stop a shot from the Pompey goalkeeping coach.
“F*** off that was the last one” he shouted as he conceded from his last shot, a downgrade from his shout of “Nearly had you, you f****** slag” when he conceded in the warm up at Northampton.
Stupidly we lingered too when the attackers were shooting at the goal. O’Keefe nearly splatted my brains across the seating with his rouge shot and Chaplin obviously knew I wasn’t a fan of his, as twice he nearly knocked me noggin off.
When we eventually took our seats we were to the left of the goal. Close to a vocal group at the back and twice the distance from Westwood and the great unwashed to the right of us. Personally for me it made for another very disjointed atmosphere.
Two sets of groups attempting to get different songs going at the same time made it hard to want to participate. The group closest to the left of us got so bored with the display second half they then decided to have a Drew Talbot love affair with every Drew Talbot song you can think of including replacing Drew’s name instead of the Kabamba chant which has gripped so many.
That all of course was before they decided to turn off a rather chunky 12 year old fan who gave as good as he got. “You fat bastard, your girlfriend’s a fridge” I have to admit it did make me chuckle.
You can’t blame the fans for becoming disengaged in the game as we offered literally nothing. I failed to get angry or disappointed at the result, as we were never once encouraged with any hope from the Pompey display.
Lowe once again proved he could get out of a room with no doors as he on multiple occasions beat Scunny players from nothing, however there would always be no end product – not Jamal’s fault.
Kennedy got so frustrated second half he went on a one man mission playing like a FIFA pro clubs player demanding the ball in the CB position to try and attempted to get the Blues up the pitch. But alas came to nothing.
It’s a shame he was taken off due to injury as if anything would happen it would likely have come from him with Hawkins. The latter who was taken off for Chappers which was a decision I didn’t agree with.
It was a training ground display from Scunny who second half contained what was less than a simmer of attacking promise from Pompey after two poor goals were conceded in the first half. If you look closely at the LB position you might find the reason for the goals.
The one and only piece of excitement for me as a Pompey fan was Scunthorpe’s revamped dizzy stick**. It was a face off between an Irons fan and none other than LC1’s own Jake Smith.
Round the pole ten times, racing to the ball on the penalty spot before trying to slot the ball home past Scunny the Bunny in goal. Jake was at a disadvantage being to the right of the goal, meaning as a right footed player he would have to travel further to take it on his favored foot.
But my goodness when he got there did he thunderf*** that bugger into the roof of the net providing the only cheer for us Southerners on a extremely bland and tame afternoon.
“Jake Smith, he’s one of our own”
*It’s actually just my bedroom
**Where the f*** has our dizzy stick gone?!
Special thanks to Mrs Chiv who drove back in one go from Scunthorpe to Guildford – you’re much better company than your husband.
Keep the faith. PUP
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Photos: Joe Pepler & Luke Broughton