Post by admin on May 30, 2009 11:23:55 GMT
This week sees the Sky team making a rare trip behind the Suffolk Curtain to visit Comrade Louis' kremlin in Moscow on Orwell. All of which means that the screaming imbecile's nodding dog will be able to find a ready excuse to show his all-time favourite clip. You know the one. It's the one where Jordan Frampton wipes out Messrs Stachyra (wonder if either of them will try pronouncing it correctly this week?) and Smith.
The other visitors are the Elite League favourites, Rosco's "rocking Robins" from Swindon, who should fancy their chances of taking four Elite League points back to Wiltshire with them.
Rather like their grizzled promoter Comrade Louis, the Witches have seen better days. Yes, these are troubled times in the colourless town, with the locals sick and tired of shortages and queues - shortages of quality riders in the ranks and that the Louis' are always at the back of the queue when quality riders become available. Those heady days of Gollob and Rickardsson leading the Witches to glory seem over a decade ago. That's probably because they were over a decade ago.
Swindon, on the other hand, are doing okay, they're getting good grades (apart from the usual suspect "unSteady") and the future's so bright they've got to wear shades. But will it all end in tears again? Like Old Testament Sisera, the stars in their courses seem to march against poor old Rosco.
Which brings us neatly to the team managers, where we'll have Ipswich's Pete Simmons talking down to people (you have to, when you're that tall - the only people he wouldn't have to talk down to are professional basketball players), while dear old Rosco smiles ruefully and tries to avoid looking like a complete fool - it's a tough task, but, you know what, I always hope he succeeds. And one day he will, maybe.
Anyway, although it's speedway at the Kremlin and therefore unlikely to be thrill-a-minute, at least we won't have to stomach the pansy voice of Peter Oakes (and it takes a strong constitution to stomach that voice - during my very long life and career I was untroubled by a bout of Salmonella and waded knee deep in the gore of slaughtered enemies, but that voice turns even my stomach). However, I think Comrade Louis and the politburo will have to stomach another defeat.
Let the screaming commence.
The other visitors are the Elite League favourites, Rosco's "rocking Robins" from Swindon, who should fancy their chances of taking four Elite League points back to Wiltshire with them.
Rather like their grizzled promoter Comrade Louis, the Witches have seen better days. Yes, these are troubled times in the colourless town, with the locals sick and tired of shortages and queues - shortages of quality riders in the ranks and that the Louis' are always at the back of the queue when quality riders become available. Those heady days of Gollob and Rickardsson leading the Witches to glory seem over a decade ago. That's probably because they were over a decade ago.
Swindon, on the other hand, are doing okay, they're getting good grades (apart from the usual suspect "unSteady") and the future's so bright they've got to wear shades. But will it all end in tears again? Like Old Testament Sisera, the stars in their courses seem to march against poor old Rosco.
Which brings us neatly to the team managers, where we'll have Ipswich's Pete Simmons talking down to people (you have to, when you're that tall - the only people he wouldn't have to talk down to are professional basketball players), while dear old Rosco smiles ruefully and tries to avoid looking like a complete fool - it's a tough task, but, you know what, I always hope he succeeds. And one day he will, maybe.
Anyway, although it's speedway at the Kremlin and therefore unlikely to be thrill-a-minute, at least we won't have to stomach the pansy voice of Peter Oakes (and it takes a strong constitution to stomach that voice - during my very long life and career I was untroubled by a bout of Salmonella and waded knee deep in the gore of slaughtered enemies, but that voice turns even my stomach). However, I think Comrade Louis and the politburo will have to stomach another defeat.
Let the screaming commence.