Sim is a caramel love-god who walks the Earth dishing out pelvic justice who in his spare time enjoys drinking too much, watching Arsenal, debating semantics and writing fan-fiction about the object of his unhealthy obsession, Jok.
Salutations fellow homo-sapiens, I offer you solace from your everyday lives by way of meaningless literature. I'll begin with some light housekeeping (feel free to skip to the next paragraph if you only care about the football related content, though I suppose this note is slightly redundant as you would have finished reading what I tried to help you avoid reading had I not written this for you to read ... but I digress).
Holy turd phoenixes we won. Who saw that coming? Be honest. Okay I will admit that I saw a mass of blogs churned out before the game from various sites and there was a faint scent of optimism in the air. That optimism dissipated in seconds as the whistle blew and City attacked, Koscielny picked up a yellow card within minutes and suddenly it seemed like everything was about to hit the fan. Yet we held. It was almost miraculous to watch but we employed the tactics so often used against us and like I said earlier - we held.
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