The Fanatics.

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 There is a girl called Vicki,

Once of the surname Hearn,

Whose got a really wonderful job and

Lots of lovely money to burn!

 

Her husband is a funny lad,

Goes by the name of Pete,

He lives the life of Riley,

Since he's one of the world's elite!

 

Perhaps I've overstated their case,

They're not the only fat cats in the alley,

And they oft' disappear in the middle of the day,

And turn up at a place called 'The Valley'!

 

Now this is a massive arena,

Filled with thousands and thousands of seats,

So they have to look very carefully,

'Cos only one pair of  them's Petes!

 

 They're all dressed up, in tribal attire,

With long flowing red and white scarves,

Hurling abuse at another strange tribe.

'Cos they don't do anything by halves!

 

I don't cotton on to this ritual, or game

I don't understand it at all!

It's got a lot to do with twenty-two men

All fighting over one leather ball!

 

And they've a chap standing there with a whistle,

Who's yelled at, abused and quite harried,

Apparently he's blind, can't see in front of his face,

And his mother forgot to get married!  

 

And there are two other chaps there,

Waving these funny flags

You can surely read all the signs man!

They're cursed as they run up each side of the pitch

I think they're called the effing linesmen!

 

Now, whilst the game is in progress

They make all these strange, raucous, sounds

And when the other tribe puts the ball in this net,

Their fury doesn't know any bounds!  

 

 

That's when  Pete sends a command to the hit squad

To get a rival fan, into their clutches,

So Vicki can do indescribable things,

 To make sure he gets home, on two crutches!

 

But, if their side scores, a roar goes up!

They hug each other and kiss

I've never known anything like it,

Cos they're deep in a rapturous bliss!

 

They sing out aloud their tribal chants,

And raise two fingers and many a fist,

Then they dash off to the nearest boozer,

Where they get a just a little Brahms and Lizst !!  

 

 

We wish them well, say all of us,

Now that they've got wed,

'Cos they'll no longer stay in the boozer,

But dash straight home, to bed!

 

At the end of the season, when the last ball's kicked,

And they get so sick, upset and so measly,

They should remember then, they've many a season to go.

So drink up, to Pete and Vicki Beesley!  

 

 

By Comunu Addox.

 

Dedicated to Vicki Beesley and family, fanatical supporters of Charlton Athletic F.C.

 

Author: Trevor Durbidge   Copyright 2001 [TJD].   All rights reserved.  Revised: October 30, 2007 .

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