Unless you have been living in a ditch or maybe just more oblivious than Trump wearing a microphone, you will be aware of a certain election looming over our heads. It is a very worrying event in our lives. I for one am very worried. More worried than when the Spanish doctor shouted "quarantino" at me as I shat evermore green mush from my butt amid a hellish sickness in Granada. More worried than when I went pee this morning and pulled out little Woody only to find him turned completely upside down. More worried even than the prospect of Trump grabbing my crotch as commander in chief, just because he can. However, I am not worried about the election. Only a nation of lunatics would elect Trump, and after living here for ten years now I am sure the majority are sane.
No, my friends, what I am worried about is you, the Austin Eagles. You may have noticed my lack of Palace prose in the non existent blog updates. There are a few reasons for this but they don't get to the crux of the issue. Sure, I was a little sick. Yes, I was in San Francisco for three weeks and all I heard about was the Giants in the World Series. And of course I was hanging full time with the kids and realizing that kicking balls in goals isn't actually life or death (unless we are playing Brighton...or Charlton...or West Ham...or Millwall...). But the real reason for the writer's block is because I have not been surrounded by my faithful feathered friends in Austin, Texas. That is why I intend to add a new proposition to your imminent ballot. It will state that all voters of sound mind and body (anyone not voting for Trump basically) are duty bound to join me at Fados this Saturday at 10am for a crucial battle for our team against the Donald Trump of soccer, Burnley.
As you can see for this picture, I voted. Now you should too.
