Black Kenyua
women to take off their panties, convince
them to put on rings, and get you red carded
if you are Moibi (“Kwenda Huko”) or Carlo
(“Fuck off you whingeing gimp”)
Truth be told the standard of match reports in
RWFC at the moment is probably the worst
I’ve seen it for years.
Why are they so bad?
The spelling is about as accurate as Pagey’s
aim on a midnight expedition to the game of
shits throne room, in other words, SHIT is all
over the place. As for the grammar, well it is
about as together as a Mucatha FC uniform.
Paragraphs remain a rumour in some cases
and sentences regularly compete for longestbunchoffuckingwordsputtogetherwitho u t a t h o u g h t f o r howthepersonreadingthiswillbreatheandund
erstandwhatthefuckyou’retryingtosay.
Now, there are those who will plead the 5th or
the fact that English is the Queens language
and it came by ship, that they are not “scribes”
or in some cases that they think in their mother-tongue and much is lost in translation. All of
this may be fine and true but surely at our age
it is cause for concern that we are competing
with Millenials in the “Who The Fuck Needs To
Communicate Well Olympics?”
Sometimes it seems that the “pressure” of
writing a match report gets to guys. Kind of
like some Railwaymen, Simone Zaza and penalties. This is then compounded by the kind of
performance anxiety I can imagine one feels if
they were next in line behind Solo on his
annual BBW orgy weekend.
But where Solo consistently proves that size
doesn’t matter and he continues to discover
new heights of sexual, tackling and drinking
prowess, it might serve guys to remember
that words do fucking matter. They convince
Just as we keep telling each other on the field
to “relax,” “take your time,” “put your foot on it,”
“play the simple ball” you can play the writing
game in the same way. Don’t try to rush it and
make it as dirty as possible just because you
know Musa likes it that way.
Playing well is not necessarily about whether
you are a talented player or not, Waweru,
Geordie and Mo demonstrate this week in
week out. Similarly with writing, you don’t
have to be a Musa or an Arthur, a Scottie or
Pagey, but you can just play your own game,
write your own way and be as patient and
considerate with your writing as you would be
if Serena said you could tap it IF you got all
your spellings and punctuation right.
As a reminder of our Match Report History
and the standards that were set, enjoy these
blasts from our past from the legendary Cindy
Crawford Files
An RWFC Club Night Report
Areas of Discussion
Bent’s final club night. Efforts to keep him in
the country failed and he took the family over
playing up front with Udo. Kick Boxing has
clearly eroded his decision making process.
Farewell old boy and keep that pimp hand
strong. Fuck den Sekundene!
Scott Webber somehow won the lucky draw
despite organising it and holding the cash
prize in his hand. ‘Surprisingly’ his number was
drawn. Clear signs that corruption has hit
Braeburn’s top brass (rumours that Richard
Lee was spotted yesterday gambling away
the Braeburn literacy budget on the horses