They Think It's All Over...

So, last night was the leavers do (woo!) for the sixth form. Incredibly bizarre to see all our year in suits. Naturally, Muggins here was the only one to wear a bow tie. And both a waistcoat and a jacket, I think. You're all scruffs imo. One more complaint... Sleepy? I worked for two bastard years to win Grumpy. Bah. Spose this only tells me one thing. Be grumpier. Grrr.

So anyway, yeah. Sixth form is now finished. The reality of exams is kicking in. I might take an extra set of exams (fail badly) just so my results can spell DeUCE. Which, imo, they will. Or spell DeCE (one E's lower case cos it's AS. I'm not abandoning my grammar Nazi-ism) and that's my peak of optimism. Of course, the reality of exams provokes the reality of uni. We've moved on quite quickly. Still, couldn't be happier (well, by my standards. Although I probably could. It's a figure of speech, shurrup) that we finished.


A few footballing predictions. Hull will draw to United. Sunderland will draw to Chelsea. Newcastle will beat Aston Villa. Hull will go down. Sheffield United will win the playoffs, making Burnley's free season tickets to those who renew obsolete. Well, not obsolete, just slightly pointless. As for Bolton. We'll lose to City. Quite badly. 3/4-0 imo. Robinho to score at least two, cos he's an overrated bastard and they usually score against us. Or if someone's not scored for a while. Or if someone's come back from a serious injury.


Anyway, that's all I can be arsed doing. I'm still slightly pissed and I slept for about 2 hours. Sleepy my arse.


They Call Him Rutman - bringing you... whatever you want to say about this post since 2009.