And Now, The End Is Near...... So I Shall Begin

As a starting point for a blog, this is a fairy miserable time. We have just conceded the double to our bitterest rivals, our owner has sadly passed away & although we're not exactly a rudderless ship, we are a ship being steered by a former player & manager in Frank Clark who may have played for us in our most successful period & was the most successful manager in the post Clough era but unfortunately has little experience in this arena barring a stint running Leyton Orient 20 odd years ago. That though will have little relevance to running Nottingham Forest which is now an ex big big club with the potential to be successful if it wasn't for being a decrepit creaking old has been losing a seven figure sum every month. God bless you Frank, but I think you're gonna need a bigger boat.....

Mr Clark is of course ably assisted by current ex-manger-in-waiting Steve Cotterill, who it would seem is as mad as a barrel of monkeys on LSD. In footballs who's who Mr Cotterill lists medallions, swearing & pretending the opposition didn't score under his 'favorites'

There is of course the old face of a certain Mr Arthur lurking about behind the scenes too, we have neither seen nor heard from Mr Arthur since the sad loss of Mr Doughty, but we know he's still there somewhere pretending to be the CEO in the same way I as a child pretended to be BA Baracus. I really do pity the fool, wandering the darkened corridors of power like some demented cross between The Phantom Of The Opera & Quasimodo.

Then we move to the most likable of the lot, Terry the kit man. The kind of bloke that would have been a PE teacher if he hadn't been so fat & unhealthy, but he does seem a loyal servant to the club. He looks lost most of the time, but that's mainly because he has no idea where he is.

And that's Nottingham Forest, a motley crew of do gooders, misfits & the socially inept or unstable running this once great football club. It would be devastating if it wasn't so easy to make a joke out of it all. We are currently lurching through an uncertain universe with no more control over the eventual outcome than a dung beetle has control of a Jaguars anus. We just watch & wait patiently, hoping for the best

So, that brings me, begrudgingly, to the football. We sit 5 points above the relegation zone before this weekends round of games & with 10 games to save ourselves. In theory you would say it's all in our own hands but of course we know that's not true, our season is in the hands of a footballing lunatic, we have an enviable list of players that could win games regardless of their game instructions if only it was 2002 & they were still good. The saving grace for this season is Portsmouth losing ten points through being run by a group of crooks/incompetents'/schizophrenics [delete as appropriate] that make our lot look like a dream team. All this means we'll probably only need 10 or 12 more points to survive. Luckily, we head hunted Portsmouth's chief lunatic, what could possibly go wrong?

It's more than achievable, we have the experience to hold their nerve & the skill to score goals. Lets all hope they can hold it together & while we're on the subject of nerve, lets try to help them as much as we can, it's kind of what we're for.