By Ollie Irish
It’s Carra’s 33rd birthday today. Hats off to a man for all seasons, a man of the people, a man of so many faces it’s almost like he’s Val Kilmer in ‘The Saint’ or something…
Immensely proud. And still a bit confused, if he’s honest.
Did I leave the gas on?
… No, I’m sure I turned it off.
Absolutely knackered, five minutes in.
Heskey trapped the ball!
Repressed rage. Or wondering what’s for tea. One of the two.
The shits again. With a touch of jaundice.
Scrunchy face = existential crisis.
You’re only supposed to blow the bloody doors off.
A man of infinite mystery.
Grimly resolute. Or the shits.
Welcoming another false dawn. It’s the hope that kills you.
Is this a Daniel Agger I see before me?
Just watched Two Girls, One Cup.
Telling Stevie G about Two Girls, One Cup.
The dormant beast awakes.
Well played, Carra la. Long may you continue to lead us into the darkness.