GAME 18
NOVEMBER 22, 2014
MOULINEX

WONDERBRAS
FOREST


It's been a bit boring, hasn't it? But at least we stopped worrying. It has been mildly diverting watching England, wondering whether Jack Wilshire's legs are compacting into stumps, or why Smalling insists on rubbing Rooney's hair off when he scores, or why nobody can make their minds up about whether England are any good or not because they haven't played a decent team for a while now but you can only beat what's in front of you etc. It's just nice not having to care too much.

We further diverted ourselves by going to the cinema and watching "The Imitation Game" , about Alan Turing and the Enigma machine. Once we got our heads around the fact that much of it probably isn't true, we found it a tremendous film, and had fish and chips afterwards.

But now it's time to start worrying again. We try not to worry - it's absurd, really, paying so much money to watch something that could easily drive you insane - but that's the way things are. Both teams are having a peculiarly volatile season, so anything could happen. We console ourselves with the thought that any team which can concede five goals to the Sheep must be truly awful. Yes, that's the way we'll go: Wolves are truly awful and we'll give them a severe beating. Nothing to worry about there, then.


SEASON 2014/15 FIXTURES
(01) 09.08.14 FOREST 2 BLACKPOO0
(02) 16.08.14 BOLN 2 FOREST 2
(03) 19.08.14 BORMUFF 1FOREST 2
(04) 23.08.14 FOREST 4 READING LADIES0
(05) 30.08.14 WENDIES 0 FOREST1
(06) 14.09.14 FOREST 1 SHEEP1
(07) 17.09.14 FOREST 5 COTTAGERS3
(O8) 20.09.14 MEWO 0 FOREST0
(09) 27.09.14 FOREST 0 HOVE0
(10) 30.09.14 WIGGUM 0 FOREST 0
(11) 05.10.14 FOREST 2 DIPSWITCH2
(12) 18.10.14 CAERDYDD 2 FOREST1
(13) 21.10.14 WATFOR? 2 FOREST 2
(14) 25.10.14 FOREST 1 BLACKbum3
(15) 01.11.14 UDDERSFEEL 3FOREST 0
(16) 05.11.14 FOREST 1BENTFORD 3
(17) 08.11.14 FOREST 2NORRIDGE1
(18) 22.11.14 WONDERBRAS FOREST
(19) 29.11.14 BOREMINGHAM FOREST



Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time; and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury signifying nothing.