Wem-Ber-Ley, Wem-Ber-Ley

What have I been up to recently? Only participating in the most historic occasion ever to happen ever. Yes, that's right, I'm talking Stevenage Borough in the FA Trophy final at Wembley on Saturday. 53,261 other people were there too, most of them eager to see what kind of home £1bn gets you these days. The answer? Really powerful hand-driers (of which I am already a fan), the sort that make your skin ripple and sound like a jet engine revving up. Also, it's the one place on earth where men have to queue to get into toilets and women don't, such is the equality of provision. However, if they hold a massively female dominated event (I can't come up with any more precise description for fear of being arrested or beaten up, unfortunately, but it did involve a kitten-cooing convention as one of the elements), the rightful queue disparity will be restored.

Getting away from the toilets, what you really want to know is how did Boro do? Well, in keeping with the frustrating way they've been all season, they played like drunk clowns for periods in the first half, giving away two goals while the defenders all tried to get into a car but the doors kept falling off whilst throwing buckets of glitter over each other (I had a good view, and I'm pretty sure that's why they didn't put tackles in on the goalscorer). So Boro entered half-time two goals down, and woe was me. Oh woe. But, following a half-time talk by, I can only assume, Boro Bear (who can be seen on the above picture at the far left of the line of players) spurred the team on to score three second-half goals and win a big pot of hunny. Very exciting. Best thing to happen to Stevenage since I left, reported the local paper on Monday, somewhat vindictively.