A glutton for punishment, I was today accompanied by not one but two Jocklings at today's Montrose match, as I aimed for the perfect storm: two kids under the age of four, one in nappies and one currently obsessed with sampling as many toilets as possible; pishing rain; and the abject football served up by Montrose.
In some respsects, it was good to have the Jocklings with me, as it meant I barely saw any of the football.
I was on my way down the stairs en route to the toilets when Clyde scored their first after 35 seconds; I was wrestling open a packet of chocolate buttons when they scored their second; and when they scored their third in the second half, I'd forgotten we'd had the half time break, so applauded what I thought was a Montrose goal.
What little I did see looked grim. Montrose struggled to keep the ball, Clyde dominating possession and powering forwards at every opportunity. For some reason Paul Watson was on the bench, while Alan Campbell is injured.
Montrose played their third goalkeeper in as many matches, Stuart McKenzie still suspended and Lucas Birnstingl having run off to Canada before Lee Wilkie eats his spleen. Did I mention the new fella's first touch was to pick the ball out of the net after 35 SECONDS?
On top of all that misery, I had Little Jocklette asking where Monty the Mole was and why there were no rainbow drops in the pie hut.
Oh, and Barry Ferguson's hair makes him look like a sad, middle aged Tin-Tin tribute act.
Man of the Match: Not a fucking clue.
