Yesterday Patrick told you about the forthcoming ultimate game ever and all other sorts of massive build up. It was crap. We lost, we didn't play very well and it crushed my high spirits. I ran lots and I'm no doctor but I'm positive I was having a heart attack, that makes it much more difficult to be an effective team member. I don't want to bore you with details but as a team Young Boys scored less goals than Woking Kebabs, and that generally equates to a loss. In fact I can't think of one fair occasion when a team scored fewer goals than the opposition and won. Note the use of the word fair, no Italian mafia ting going on here.
However when I got in I quickly found the remedy to sadness. After a quick shower I put on a pair of fresh and crisp boxer shorts I made myself an nice unwinding horlicks, sat in front of my laptop and watched THIS twice all the way through. I don't think anyone on the planet makes me quite as genuinely and thoroughly happy as he can. His adorable yet moronic way of plodding through life makes me laugh, smile and I'd say cry, but then that means I cry, which I don't. I just cry with laughter at stuff like THIS. Not only does Liam Neeson do good comedy there, Liam Neeson owns comedy there. Ah, no more sad times. That's always nice.
P.s. Look at him, he's a frog.
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