Football fans are notoriously superstitious. I am no exception.
Sunday morning I'm off down the road with the nipper under my arm to fetch a paper. Now I don't know about you but I'm heartily fed up with the Sunday papers. What a load of balls. The only bit worth reading any more is the sports section and I think the Sunday Times has the best sports section around. I counted my change before we left and I had £184. The Times is £2 (!) on a Sunday. Hmmm. But we know the people in the paper shop pretty well by now, they've let me off the odd 20p in the past and I pay them next day, so I was sure it would be fine. But Lo! When we arrived in the shop and I reached for the change in my pocket there was another 20p coin.
"Wow Finn, a magic coin!" I said, handing it over and receiving a vast pile of "news" in return. But in my mind the cogs were racing. I now had four pennies left in my hand. Four magic pennies. Obviously we were going to beat Spurs four nil in the cup that afternoon. I left the shop smiling, knowing we were going to win four nil. (Yeah I Know!)
Met up with Mary's brother in the pub beforehand. He was very down about Spurs and convinced they were going to lose. I sat there smugly, knowing we were going to win four nil.
BUT THOSE WERE SPURS PENNNIES WEREN'T THEY
We LOST four nil. I gave the pennies to Will who eyed them then refused to take them as they are obviously cursed...