Cambridge become world's richest club!

Cambridge united confirm that they are now the world's richest club after dwarfing revenue streams from such clubs as Milan, Barcelona and even Manchester city. But how did they manage such an incredible feat whilst only securing their place in the third tier of English a few short weeks ago?

You could be forgiven for thinking that they'd sold their soul to some rich sugar daddy, to be used as a plaything for personal amusement and the massaging of an ego, but what you'd likely not expect is that ACCIDENTAL design and innovation was behind their rags to riches transformation.

In an exclusive, we at Ramblings of a fat buffoon spoke to a club executive about this remarkable situation.

"We're still in shock really, it's fantastic for the club and will really help our push for European trophies." She said. "We were brainstorming for the 2021/22 home kit and had a number of sketches ready to go. One of the work experience kids accidentally dropped a bag of manure on the table as they walked past and a plague of flies, we're talking biblical proportions here, descended on the table and congregated on our designs in huge numbers. What we saw shocked us, and to be honest we initially had no idea of the implications of what came next. The flies were everywhere, but the one place they refused to go near was our favourite design. They were that repelled by the pattern of the new shirt they went against their own biological directive."

This led to the club contacting a number of scientists who confirmed that flies would not even land on that shit.

Further tweaking and development of the design uncovered unlimited applications including Cambridge united branded bin bags, horse coats and food coverings, but it didn't stop there, millions of shirts were shipped to countries with mosquito transmitted viruses and cases of infection dropped 97.8% overnight, and it is believed that the remaining cases were down to motorcyclists accidentally swallowing the bugs on their travels.

The club source also confirmed that various 'top' players from the powerhouses of Europe had already been phoning the Newmarket road stadium in anticipation of a bumper payday.

Messi, De Bruyne and Lorenzo Insigne are among the favourites to pull on the ugliest kit ever invented.

Old people.......

 What. The. Actual.Fuck?

Nothing brings the old folk into town like market day. It's like a zombie invasion, but you could easily outrun them because zombie Ethel's hip replacement is still causing her gip from beyond the grave, and Michael's eyesight is that bad without his varifocals that he'll be gnawing on that lamppost for days before he realises it's not some chunky lasses calf muscle. 

I kid you not, they are absolutely EVERYWHERE, they shuffle about like the world's shittiest ice dancing troupe that have forgotten their skates and the fact that there's no fucking ice!

I needed to withdraw some cash, so I went to the hole in the wall (ATM for you Trump loving, gun wielding American lunatics), and there was an old dear stood in front of me in the queue. I'm pretty sure that initially she tried putting her library card into the machine, because 4 minutes later she was digging around in her ridiculously oversized Mary Poppins like bag. 

Pot plant X
3 seater sofa X
Jim's false teeth X

Oh, there it is! she puts the card into the machine with the urgency of a Spanish shopkeeper at siesta time, and then proceeds to spend a good 5 minutes window shopping for fuck only knows what on the touchscreen.

I got to wondering if she could increase the withdrawal amount a penny at a time she took so bloody long, and then, after she's finished her business she spends another 12 minutes staring at the wad of notes in her hand like they were showing a movie. No wonder old people get robbed in the street, I'd have had time to take the cash off of her, go home, have something to eat, pop back with a bunch of flowers as an apology, place them in her arms and wander off before she'd have even noticed. 

They also delight in using their shopping trolleys to form checkpoint Charlie down every single aisle of the supermarket. I swear to god it's something they must talk about in the lounge of their old folk's home, meticulously planning it like a military operation. 

Betty and Frank, you take aisle 6, don't allow more than 1 able bodied person past every six minutes. Your topic of conversation will be prostates, extra bonus points for mentioning that Frank's is currently the size of a small meteorite and growing. 

Ethel and Bill, you're down pasta and cooking sauces today, I want you to slow that shit the fuck down, go down the route of bread costing too much these days, tell the world that you used to be able to buy three loaves for tuppence and you'd still have enough to visit a strip club and go on a round the world cruise. 

I know it's not all old people, some of them are decent enough to invest in mobility scooters! The problem with that is they passed their driving test when the fuel for the engine was a carrot or sugar cube and the emissions were scooped up with a shovel and placed among the fucking rose bushes. The fucking things seem to have just two speeds, comatose or fucking warp factor 11. Captain Kirk would have had trouble piloting one of those things, they peel off down the supermarket like it's Santa Pod, and they don't give a shit who walks in front of them, you're fair game, road kill.

I love old people when they are sat in chairs, I think they are adorable when they share their Werther's originals and tell us what it was like in the Crimean war, I just hate being stuck behind them in a shop. 

If anybody ever has anything they want me to write about I'm always open to suggestion, if it's something I need to experience before writing it I'm happy to do that too, just let me know :)

Dave out.

 

Viruses, lockdowns and mental health

Who here felt that their mental health suffered during lockdown? You did!?!? ME FUCKING TOO!

So let's talk about it, but first make sure you stick the kettle on, none of this microwaved tea bullshit I saw that American lady doing, that was fucking CRIMINAL!

Got your cuppa and some biscuits? (Cookies for those slower kids at the back) Good! then let's begin :)

THE VIRUS

Who would have thought that the first 'nuclear winter' we'd step out into wouldn't be because China or Russia had bombed us? I honestly imagined that one day I'd step out of my house and be confronted with dust, rubble and bodies everywhere. Never in my wildest dreams could I have expected that a virus, with a width 1/1000 of a human hair (Less if your hair resembles Homer Simpson's) could cause such widespread damage and destruction. I came home from work with a sore throat and slight temperature in March, and here I am almost 4 months later just starting to take my first tentative steps outside of my bubble. 

It soon became apparent that I didn't have COVID-19 but I had to continue to isolate just in case, and as I sat at home obsessing over the news reports and social media I had no idea how deeply this whole affair would scar me mentally. Initially I was swept along with the "It's no worse than flu" virus deniers, but I was wrong. Some people (read that as Kelly) will delight in me admitting I was wrong, it doesn't happen often, but here I was.......

As the death toll began to rise I received an email from work confirming that I was allowed to shield from the virus due to health concerns such as diabetes, a dodgy heart and the fact that I am still hugely overweight. I took this opportunity to stay safe, but I never really contemplated or expected the full frontal assault that would beging on my mental health by being locked away. 

Initially I was happy enough homeschooling Charlie, watching movies and playing CoD on the xbox, but I was sinking, and I never really realised it. To begin with I could shrug off the fact that I'd have to step outside and confront something that has now killed almost 600,000 people (Probably more because China DEFINITELY lied about their death count) You know, I had 12 weeks off, I was safe as I'd be at home cut off from the outside world. 

But being cut off was a disaster, I never appreciated the micro interactions I had with people in my daily life. Shaking a friend or colleague's hand when I saw them, giving out a big Dave hug to people when I could see they needed somebody to show them that things are ok, it was all gone in the blink of an eye (or an uncovered sneeze)

As the days ticked by I started to really feel isolated, even though I had my family with me. Days turned to weeks and I got closer and closer to a return to work, and that's when I had what I can only describe as my first ever panic attack. I found it hard to breathe, my mind raced at a million miles an hour, I was about to be thrown into the lion's den so to speak. 

I mean I'd not even been able to sit and talk to my mum and dad for 12 weeks, we had to drive their shopping off and leave it on their doorstep so they could avoid getting too close to us, and here I was, about to be sent back to a building with hundreds of strangers wandering past me, coughing, sneezing, not wearing masks and failing to use hand gel to kill the virus. 

It sent me into a spiral, I ended up back at the Doctor's office and he prescribed me new medication and signed me off of work due to mixed anxiety and depression syndrome. I felt like such a failure, like all of the hard work I had done to get myself back to 'normality' had unraveled right before my eyes, and worse still I felt no inclination to stop it. 

I am due back at work in 10 days, I am terrified about returning. I will go on record and say that the company I work for have been AMAZING, my manager has been incredibly understanding, and I am grateful for these things. But I'm now at an impasse, I can either take a 3 month career break with no pay, or I can return to something that literally makes me cry when I consider it. Being stuck between these options absolutely sucks, I can't afford to not be paid, but I'm mentally nowhere near ready to return, which of course sends me deeper into my thoughts, and that's not a good place to be right now. 

Why did I write this? Possibly to self therapise myself, but I also wanted people to know that they aren't alone. Even 6'4" lumps like me get upset, we get scared, we cry. It's all natural, it's all healthy, because if we charged headlong into everything without contemplation or caution we'd all be dead before we turned 3 years old. 

If anybody is struggling, you know where I am, you know how open I am, so come and talk to me. Use messenger, whatsapp, phone, fuck it even messenger pigeon, I want to be there for you. 

Stay strong.

Much love,

Dave xx

Beans and gravy (KFC again!)

So, about a week ago my wonderful wife decided to send me on another great adventure to your Ely restaurant, boy how I love that place!

As I approached I began to hear a distant voice, I slowed the car down and opened the window, I could still hear the voice but couldn't see anybody. I soon enough realised that it was coming from inside my head, and it was repeating the same 2 words over and over, get chinese, Get chinese, GET CHINESE, GET CHINEEEEEEESE!!!!!

But the wife had insisted I take what little is left of my soul and pick her up some chicken and recycled chips (fries for the American folk) so like a devoted (read as slightly terrified) husband I closed my window and drove up to the speaker.

To save time I have decided to abbreviate the KFC employee to FCO (Fried chicken overlord) and this, this right here, is how it went.

FCO: Hi, welcome to KFC Ely how can I help you?
Me: Hi, can I please have a LARGE fillet box meal.
FCO: What side and drink would you like with that? <---IMPORTANT -------<<<
Me: Can I please have GRAVY and a Pepsi max cherry
FCO: Not a problem, would you like to go large with that meal?
Me; (What I wanted to say) Well duuuuuh, I asked for a large meal, so no make it a regular.
Me: (What I actually said) Yes please, that would be super!
FCO: Anything else?
Me: Yes please, can I also have a LARGE boneless banquet meal. (Note LARGE!)
FCO: What side, dip and drink would you like with that?
Me: May I please have GRAVY, sweet chilli dip and a Pepsi max cherry.
FCO: Would you like to go large with that?

At this point I considered banging my head against the steering wheel, but my car is held together with prayers and best wishes so I decided against it.

Me: Yes please. 
FCO: That will be blah blah blah, please make your way to the next window. 

I arrived at the window and paid, I was asked if I wanted a receipt but thinking of the impact on our environment (Good old Greta Thunberg) I said no, and therein was my mistake.

I pulled up to the collection window and was handed two MEDIUM cups of drink, yes MEDIUM, now I'm siding with you here, I'm really hoping that customer care are compos mentis and you'll see where things are starting to unravel. I didn't ask for MEDIUM sized drinks Betty, or whatever your name is, I asked for LARGE!

Betty: Are you sure you asked for large meals Sir?
Me: yes, yes I am.
Betty: Well it says on the screen that you ordered 1 large and 1 medium meal
Me: I ordered two large meals, but hey HOLD ON A MINUTE! If I ordered two medium meals according to your screen WHY are you handing me 2 x medium?
Betty: Oh yeah! oops.
Me: (In my head) Yeah, ooops indeed sweetheart, now maybe you could concentrate on getting my order right and not dancing around the kitchen like you're having some form of taser induced seizure.

She then proceeds to hand me 2 x large drinks without a cup holder!

Me: Do you have any cup holders please? It's really difficult juggling 2 drinks whilst driving.
Betty: You need a cup holder?
Me: Yes please, if it's not too much trouble.

At this point I pulled away from the window and began my journey home. Therein lay my second mistake. I DIDN'T CHECK MY ORDER....... Now, a lot of friends have told me that I should ALWAYS check my order before I leave, but you know something? I believe in treating adults like adults, I mean after all, these staff members are entrusted with sharp implements such as knives and scissors, and I presume they also have to fry the chicken in boiling hot oil.

But no, because I'm an idiot I trusted these people not to get 2 simple meals wrong.

I got home and sat on the sofa weeping softly and rocking back and forth like some kind of escaped psychopath while my wife got the food out of the bag and handed it to me. This is where it went even further tits up.

Wife: No gravy again?
Me: Yeah, they had gravy.
Wife: So why have we got two pots of beans?
Me: Probably because a lizard with concussion is more likely to get my order right than the evil chicken overlords at that absolute den of stupidity.
Wife: Sorry, I know you prefer funerals than going to get KFC but I really fancied it.
Me: That's ok, can you pass me my sweet chilli dip please?Wife: No dip

                                                                    Picured: beans



I grabbed my phone, looked up the number for the restaurant and dialled it, the phone rang about a dozen times and I hung up. I'm glad they didn't answer to be honest, because had they picked up that phone I'm not sure that they would have survived the verbal armageddon I was about to bring down on them.

PLEASE don't insult me by saying you'll send in the area/regional coaches to teach them the difference between gravy and beans, if they can't tell the difference by now may I suggest you fire them all and put some of your chickens in charge for the future? My cat is 17 years old and currently licking her own arse and I'm fairly sure that even she could spot the difference between beans and gravy.

When are you actually going to take care of this restaurant and get them trained to a standard where they are equipped to notice subtle differences between oooooh let's say night and day, or maybe hot or cold.

Really it is an absolute joke of a place to get food from, and if my wife continues to send me I can see three potential outcomes.

1) Divorce, I end up living under a bridge in sarf london and strangers buy me KFC so I don't end up on drugs or alcohol.

2) My wife's murder. I'd hate to kill her, she's mostly a nice person, but she's pushing her luck by keeping on sending me.

3) I lay in the drive thru lane in a chicken suit screaming 'KFC is murder' until the nice men in the padded ambulance come along, scoop me up and let me wear the nice jacket with the buckles and straps.

PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FIX THE PROBLEM! I don't care about compensation, I don't care about the fact that yet again I went without the food I ordered, but I do care about my mental health, and I am about one missing or incorrect side away from going five alarm wibble again, and that wasn't very fun for me.

No it'SNOT!

If you know me then you'll know I am a very calm, logical and carefree kind of guy. And you'll also know that what I just said is a MASSIVE fucking lie!

EVERYTHING irks me lately, since my hairline started heading south to relocate in my nostrils and ears I have been getting increasingly cranky. I'm not lying either, all of you young thundercats will end up having similar issues, where you look like you've eaten a hedgehog, sneezed and its fucking bristles have popped out of every orifice leaving you looking like an angry sea urchin with a pot belly.

Let me first start by talking about a fucking magical incident that happened at my unnamed place of work today.

I was stood there minding my own business ensuring people could go about their daily business when a customer approached me at a rate of knots. He was clearly in a right mood so I braced myself for the upcoming tirade.

It went a little something like this:

Me: Good morning Sir, is there anything I can help you with today?

Captain lycra: Yes, yes there is! Did you know that there are no plastic bags by the vegetables?

Me: Yes Sir I did, we are trying to help save the environment from its impending death, we are cutting the amount of single use plastics we have in store. 

Captain lycra: Well that's fucking ridiculous! How am I supposed to transport these carrots home?

Me: Well, and here's just a suggestion, maybe you could put them in that bag on your back? It's only 3 small carrots and I am pretty sure you could fit a 3 bed apartment in that thing.....

And it was at this point I noticed something dreadful, the man had a droplet of clear snot hanging off of his septum and the more bothered he became the larger it got.

I decided that this was the perfect opportunity to see if I could make this shiny globule touch the floor. I began talking to him again.

Me: Greta Thunberg told me us that we need to save the environment so that future generations can enjoy the joy we experience from snowball fights and building a giant snowman complete with a carrot nose.
Captain lycra: Well I think it is fucking stupid! 

Me: And can you imagine how hard it will be to scuba dive with your view obscured by tons of plastic?

Captain lycra: I don't go scuba diving......

Me: Neither do I Sir.

Captain lycra: Then why are you bothered?

Me: I'm not.......

Captain lycra: but..........

With every word I spoke he got redder, and the snot drop got bigger and heavier. Gravity began to play its part and it was soon hanging precariously above his top lip.

Me: And don't forget all the dolphins that are eating carrier bags thinking thinking they are jellyfish!

Captain lycra: Jellyfish???

at this point he turned slightly and the snot became truly mobile, it swung around like some kind of crystal ball on a chain, and this is where it got really bad.

It connected with his chin! It formed a liquid crystal arc from nose to chin, and I figured he was till unaware......

Until he licked it! That was it, I was retching inside and in danger of throwing up on his bicycle clips and hiking boots, and then he did it again! I have never been so revulsed in my entire life. I felt so ill at the sight that I didn't eat breakfast for at least 20 minutes.

Bloody grim.

I'm never drinking again!

What's up fuckers?

Yes, I know I have been a little bit absent again, but it's not my fault! Nothing really interesting has happened to me for a while, so I figured I'd go back a few years to a company party, and the reason I barely drink any more.

This is the story of how I pretty much gave up alcohol entirely.

I used to be a BIG drinker, I mean fucking silly amounts of alcohol, and it has led me on all manner of adventures, from wheeling a Christmas tree around Cambridge city centre to nearly getting arrested for all kinds of stupid fuckery.

I figured that seeing as it was Christmas I may as well push the boat out and have a couple of pints of cider while I waited for my colleagues to arrive at the restaurant. Well this proved to be mistake number one, because if you know me I tend to drink rather quickly. I'll down a pint in around seven seconds and used to drink 4 pints of lager straight from the jug in around a minute (I never claimed to be clever)

Well, those 2 pints of cider were gone before anybody had arrived so I figured I'd go the same again. I was now 4 pints in after maybe 30 or 45 minutes. People began to arrive and we sat down to eat, being the greedy fat fuck that I am I ordered the biggest mixed grill you have EVER seen. There was enough dead animal on that plate to feed a starving wolf pack.

I drank more cider and a few beers as we ate, and at this point I should have slowed down. When I'm headed towards drunk my gums go numb and I start talking more shit than I ever imagined possible. I was starting to slur my words, and people were beginning to ask me if I was ok......

OK? I'm fucking invincible!

After the meal we moved on to a bar and I vaguely remember ordering a tray of 20 various shots. I believe it consisted of bacon flavoured vodka, jagermeister, goldschalger and a bunch of other random shit. I also kind of remember drinking most of them myself in rapid succession.

It's at this point I get a little bit hazy.......

I think* I walked off, somebody had told me that there was a meteor shower happening that evening so I went and laid on my back in a puddle as the rain fell by the bucket load. I gazed up at the sky, the clouds peppering my face with droplets of icy cold water, and as this was going on I don't think I even questioned why I couldn't see any meteors.

I took a slow walk home, I think I was walking sideways, because it took me a good 45 minutes to complete a 5 minute wander. When I walked through the door I was full of Christmas cheer, but unbeknownst to me, a chemical reaction of epic proportions was taking place in my guts.

Kelly happened to comment that my T-Shirt was on inside out (How? Not a fucking clue) and told me that I was more drunk than she had ever seen. No problem I thought, I'll just sit on the sofa and let the effects wear off. Well I suppose I may have fallen asleep with my head facing the ceiling, because the next thing I heard was "Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaave!!!!" and I opened my eyes with a startled jolt.

What's that above my face? Was it some form of spirit? Was it a portal to another dimension?

No, no it fucking wasn't, it was vomit, a lot of fucking vomit, and gravity was about to teach me that what goes up truly does come down.

SPLAT! The fucking rainbow yawn crashed down on my face with the force of 2 Hiroshima bombs, I had bacon, lamb chop and black pudding lodged in my eyes, and it burned like I'd been pepper sprayed by the police.

Bluuuuurgh! The second launch was released, I tried to move my head, but it was no good, it crashed down on my face, went up my nose, in my ears and coated the sofa and wall.

I stood up, bits of my dinner fell off me like body parts off of a leper and dropped to the floor.

'Dave, don't FUCKING move!' was Kelly's command, but I wasn't mentally or physically capable of hearing what she said, so I ran. I made it to the bottom of the stairs before the next wave of nausea hit me, I held my hands out like a fucking hungry orphan and attempted to catch the contents of my stomach as they spilled out of me, but even my massive bucket hands wasn't enough to do the trick.

I dragged myself up the stairs as quickly as I could, but it was painstakingly slow progress, and the new carpet was taking the brunt of it..... (Did I mention that the carpet was less than a week old?)

I got into the bathroom and put my head over the toilet bowl, I sat there shell shocked for a good hour before I realised I'd eventually have to move. Kelly had already told me to fuck off if I thought I was getting in bed so I came up with a genius idea.

I slept in the bath, the only problem was I'd not finished puking, there was still gallons of beer and mushrooms, sausage, chips and some form of green slime that to this day baffles me as to what it was.

Every time I did another rainbow yawn I'd turn the shower on, wash the chunks off of my clothes and go back to sleep. I did this all night and through the following morning until maybe lunchtime. When I could finally move I slowly made my way downstairs, Kelly gave me a dirty look, and refused to speak to me for two days.

I swear to god it was bliss, but the feelings of guilt knowing that she must have had to clean up all of that mess while I about died in the bathroom haunts me to this day. So, the moral of the story is this......

Don't be like Dave.

Cheers!

'KFC Ely, you'll never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy'.

Stick the kettle on, make yourself a nice cup of tea and have a couple of biscuits (yes cookies you American oddballs) because I'm about to blow.

Pond dribble: Welcome to KFC drive thru, can I take your order please?

Me: Why yes, yes you can my good man! I'll have the following.

1 x Large fillet box meal with a thigh piece, gravy and cherry pepsi max.

1 x Large boneless banquet meal with sweet chilli dip, gravy and cherry pepsi max

1 x Fillet tower burger

1 x Large cherry pepsi max

And finally some corn.

Pond dribble: No problem, please come to the first window.

So I drive forward 10 fucking yards, my heart already dropping out of my ass because I know that my happy day is about to be murdered by imbeciles.

Me: Can I just check both meals are large.

Pond dribble: Neither are large sir, did you want large?

Me: Yes please, that's why I asked for large meals, it was the very first thing I fucking asked for!

Pond dribble: "Oh right........ and there's a 15 minute wait for chicken"

Me: Oh, fucking joy!


I drive round to the collection window and am confronted by the most impossibly cheerful cunt I have ever met.

Happy cunt: "Here are your drinks, we have plastic straws!"

Me: (to myself) I bet you have fucking plastic scissors too you fucking clown shoe. "Can I have a cup holder please?"

Happy cunt: "We only have the holders for 4 cups, and you only have 3 drinks"

Me: "Well I have 3 drinks......."

Happy cunt: "But this holds 4 teeheehee!"

Me: "CUP. HOLDER."

Happy cunt: Have you tried our new supercharger dip? Teeheehee!

Me: No I have not, I just want sweet chilli please

Happy cunt: Are you suuuuuure? Teeheehee!

Me: SWEET. CHILLI.

My food arrived in less than 3 fucking minutes, they said 15 minutes, how long has my chicken been fuckimg hanging around for? I reckon I got the reheats from yesterday fucking lunchtime.

I swear if I wake up in the middle of the night with the shits I'm going to squeeze some of my runs out into a fucking tupperware box and leave it on their fucking doorstep!

And they forgot my fucking corn, the absolute fucking wankpuffins!

KFC twitter feed, get fucking ready!