Saturday 14/11 -08

Hi ya. I’m Gawain. Football is the new religion of the world. The love to someone’s club is what makes people going these days. I love football and Millwall FC, in the southeast of London is my club. Even though Millwall FC has never reaped any success on the scoreboards, it is still well known throughout Europe. That’s where I come into the picture. I’m what the muckrakers at the papers would call a hooligan. I join my lads in the firm for a round of proper brawl every time Millwall is playing a match and those Bobbies and buggers that call themselves journalists are giving us a hard time about it. We stay out of your business so why don’t you stay out of ours?!
I’m among of most fierce fighters of the Millwall Bushwackers, Millwall’s firm. Everyone loves football, but firms consist of the people who love their team the most. Therefore, the blokes in firms are the ones with the most amount of heart in the world!
I’ve pressed my mark into more faces than you’ve seen got smashed up in the movies. I’m a relentless warrior and I breath fights, it’s like air for me. My life is simple, it consists of two things: Football and beating geezers up in the name of Millwall. Simple and easy to enjoy. Nothing else matters to me and it’s been that way since my brother brought me to my first confrontation.
I’m hooked on the adrenaline that explodes in my head, driving me bonkers. I booze until I get rat-arsed, after that I feel no pain and everything is a holy mist. Geezers cheering for other clubs fall like twigs for me when I go ballistic That’s what I like the most and that’s what I do the best and that’s why Millwall Bushwackers is tattooed all over my back. I’ve found what I’m good at; handing out knuckle sandwiches. What else would I do?
Last week my son dropped by, he asked if I was still on the dole, but this time he didn’t preach for 20 minutes when I told him yes. I guess he was finally given up. That wasn’t one day to early. He wants me to collect some money so that he could get rich by me I popping my clogs. But my legacy is in the firm; I have worked for the Bushwackers as Jesus worked for God, except the Bushwackers is how real life gets, and God is something prannocks believe in because they can’t deal with life. He wants me to abandon my mates and quit the firm. What a load of malarkey! Anyone who thinks I might quit is daft as a brush.
Now more than ever, you see this week coming up is the London derby week. It’s starting off tomorrow with a game versus Charlton at our own castle, the New Den. Our team is called the Millwall Lions, and this year’s squad actually stands a great chance against our rivals from Charlton. Their firm is a real bunch of gits. We always show them why the Bushwhackers are notorious all over Europe, they never leave standing.
But that’s just for starters; you see Crystal Palace will pay us a visit on Tuesday. They are Londoners too, and we sure hated getting our arses kicked by them on the field during the nineties, we haven’t played a game against them for years so it will be time for revenge this Tuesday. Count on it.
The utopian week can only end in one way, a FA-game versus our hated arch rivals West Ham. But this week is called London week for a reason. It’s really happening. The FA-cup is the oldest and one of the most prestigious tournaments. The drawing of opponents in the FA-cup is broadcasted live on TV and radio. You bet all of us went barmy instantly. We will be playing three London teams; Charlton, Crystal Palace and West Ham during one week. Now I’m about to get occupied with grinding the knuckle iron, polishing my Reebok sneakers that I steel-toe modified and getting the rest of my gear ready for the week of my life. Too many bloody fights in a week can be a recipe for disaster, so I’ll prepare well.
Slang dictionary:
• Bobbies - Poliser
• Muckraker - Journalist (negativt i huligankretsar)
• Firm - Supportergäng för fotbollslag som slåss
• Bonkers - Galen
• Rat-arsed - Full
• Ballistic - Vrickad
• Knuckle sandwiches - Knytnävar
• Malarkey - Skitsnack
• Daft as a brush - Dum som en gås
• Bet your bollocks to a barn dance - Slå dig i backen på, vara stensäker på

Sunday 15/11 -08

Millwall FC vs. Charlton Athletic
I went to bed quite early last night, figured that would be sensible to maximize my performance in the fights this week. I slept in as usual, had a big brunch and took a walk to our pub, the pub where we Bushwackers hang out. The chaps were all stirred up already, shouting:
“Let 'em come, Let 'em come, Let 'em come, Let 'em all come down to The Den
Let 'em come, Let 'em come, Let 'em come, We'll only have to beat 'em again,
We're the best team in London, No, the best team of all,
Everybody knows us, We're called Millwall,
Let 'em come, Let 'em come, Let 'em come, Let 'em all come down to The Den
Let 'em all...... come down......... TO THE DEEEENNN”
This will be a fabulous day. No question about it. One of my mates challenged me for a game of arrows and the darts flew like space rockets, dancing through the sky and promptly landing, nailed into the board. The rounds of beers kept coming constantly, like trains in the tube at rush hour. The spirit has high; this was a match everyone had been waiting for. A high ranked member of the firm, I’ll call him Wes shouted as loud as he could that our popular midfielder Dave Martin, who had missed yesterday’s practice due to a minor foot injury would be among the lucky starting eleven. This obviously propelled the crowd into a loud delightful exclamation. Wes then jumped down from the table and made his way over to me. “It’s going down at Bawtree Road 20 minutes after the game.” he said.
Millwall had another firm back in the seventies called F troop in the seventies, although they were feared, that’s nothing compared to the reputation the Bushwackers has had since the 80’s. My brother was in the F mob and but he didn’t bring me with him until the creation of the Bushwackers, they were a new firm and needed new fighters. I answered the call.
The fire flares and the smoke accompanied our songs beautifully. King Arthur used trumpets and King George III used drums. Bushwackers don’t need instruments; we are men enough to use our bodies. It takes a prat from the Manchester Uniteds’ Red Devils to use a knife instead of the mitts we were born with. The referee blew and the game was under way. Our Lions started the match with a lot of possession, and in after 7 minutes Marc Laird shoot an excellent pass, right to the feet of the striker Steve Morison. Feint left, two steps right and then Morison number 20 passed on the left of the defender. Alone with the goalkeeper, number 20 did his duty and Millwall was one – nil over Charlton. We had gone off with a flyer! The quality of the match was however low, few scoring chances occurred until Charlton equalized late into the match. We had the victory but were pipped at the post and “only” got one point out of Charlton. The match wasn’t the important part though. The fight was, and it was rough and I do have big troubles moving my fingers right now. I’ve broken my nose and lost a tooth and I feel like jollier than in a long time.
Slang dictionary:
• Gaff - Ställe
• Game of arrows - Dartspel
• Go off with a flyer - Få en jättebra start
• Pip at the post - Bli av med ledning på slutet

Monday 16/11 -08

“You should have seen the other fellow!”
Now fellows this is what a real man looks like after a hard day’s work! And to those f…ing academics whining over their exhausting jobs I’ve only got 2 word, “Bloody hell”!!! Go tell someone who gives a crap about your fancy education and car that only have cost you your entire life or you can finally decide to do something with your and come and join our humble association, because fellows this is living. When you actually can feel the empty spot between you “noggers” after a good fight or the adrenaline pumping to hide the pain from your broken nose, what more can a bloke wish for. Jolly good it is! Of course I’ve grown way too old, experienced and hardened to have any use of this so called adrenaline anymore, nowadays it’s all pure heart, but yesterday’s fight I must say almost got to me. A “brill” fight and without miscounting, which the booze probably forces me to do, I would say that I delivered no less than at least 23 “kicks in the Jacksons” worth counting for, however the punch I received from that chubby chaser, that gormless wuss, who never should be allowed to call himself a football fan (probably the reason why he cheers for Charlton), I must admit was a fantastic strike. Right on the spot, cracked my nose in a “whiff”, but on the other hand I wouldn’t bet my money on him walking for a week if I were you. Bloody hell! Probably gave the poor bloke the lesson of his lifetime! Will be “wee-weeing” blood for ages, poor man, didn’t know better. No one picks a fight with papa Gawain Nosworthy and walks away with his dignity intact, especially not on home ground!
Nah, fellows I’m off for tonight, need to “see a brown friend out to the coast” and the old “swamp donkey” needs to be fed, no surprise there! And, oi lads, don’t forget the big game on Friday, I’ll be bringing ye old knuckleduster! Be there! Gawain out…
Slang dictionary:
• “Noggers” - Gaddar, tänder
• “Brill” - Härlig, brilliant
• “The Jacksons” - De manliga genitalierna
• “Gormless wuss” - Fjolla, mes
• “See a brown friend out to the coast” - Bajsa, skita, slå en nia
• “Swamp donkey” - Kärring, ful kvinna

Tuesday 17/11 – 08

“Dirty 30 – Hah, I´m gonna show at least 30 of those salad dodgers what dirt really tastes like”
Bollocks! My “Gorillas in the mist” are gone and my swede is still pounding since the pleasant time beating the shit of the “B-mob”-wankers! Hah, what a bunch of gormless wusses! But still, maybe it’s time, even for the great and mighty Gawain himself, to pull the socks up for once?
Yeah, sounds reasonable… Tomorrow, it’s time for one of the young blokes to step up against those jumping cowards from CP (Crystal Palace), Dirty 30; hah they wanna try out dirty... At least one of em are gonna have the honor to visit downtown Gawain tomorrow, inhabitants one, “mr. my ass”. But, more important, which bloke is ready to lead the fellows into battle tomorrow, hmm… I’m thinking “Brian the cryin”. Yes, he will probably have some difficulties “releasing the old chocolate hostages” before the fighting breaks out, and yes he looks more like a rat with a wig on than a football hooligan, but he simply needs a good old kick in the Jacksons’ to get going. And when he does, I love watching the facial expressions as poor bloke “absobloodylutely” always needs to get himself wedged in between the legs of the biggest f…ing moving thing there is. Bloody hell, the tiny chap almost turns purple every time! So, what can I say, he reminds me of myself in his age. Big brain, but no use of it! It is as he so delicately likes to illustrate it:
• Oi, we got a calling to answer, so will ya please pick up the bloody phone and get this salad dodger of me!
There’s no time for any fancy pansies, academics or teetotalers, ahh bloody hell how much I hate those f…ing teetotalers, these abstainers who think that they rule the entire world! I´ll tell you what they are, they are just a bunch of panty hamsters afraid of having a good old Stella down their throat and over there in West ham they’re crawling all over the place. O man, I’m not sure that I’ll be able to restrain myself until Friday, the D-day, when we finally, after all these year of darkness are going to beat the living daylights out of em, both on and outside the field. Believe me when I tell you, there will be a bloodbath! And there will be a victory, if not on field the “Millwall Bushwhackers” will get the job done… … and as always with a smile on our faces. Oo, if I only could get a foretaste of what’s waiting, if I only had one of those bloody West ham-wankers right here I would have shove his head so far up his Jam roll that he would have been able to taste his breakfast once again.
Oo dear, the “Dirty 30” will not have a pleasant Wednesday night, “Big Gawain” have some serious anger to get out of the system and “Brian the cryin” will throw his 100 pounds out there once again.
Let’s just hope that the “Pearl Harbor” from last Saturday is long gone, but if not, this time I’ll be ready to bring the thunder. GOOOO MILLWALLLLLLLLL!!!!!
Slang dictionary:
• “Gorillas in the mist”- Fylla
• Swede - Huvud
• B-mob - Smeknamnet för Charltons supporter-klubb
• Gormless wuss - Mes, pajas
• “Pull the socks up”- Tänka smart
• Dirty 30 - Smeknamnet för CP-s supporter-klubb
• “Release the choclate hostage”- “Skita”
• “Rat with a wig on”- Slang för en ful tjej
• Jacksons’ - Mannens genitalier
• “Salad dodger” - Fetto, svullo
• Jam roll - Anus, bak, ända
• Pearl Harbor - Oväder, kraftigt regn

Wednesday 18/11 – 08

“4-0!!!! – But where are the bloody supporters”
Beautiful!!!!!!!!!! What a game! 4-0!!! Premier league here we come, the Bushwhackers are soon to be terrorizing the world of football in its finest sitting room once again!!! And on prime time!!!!
Hahaha, my fellow bloggers what a victory!!! One would think mister Cahill was back in business again since he left us for those wankers over at Everton, a scumbag he is, but an extremely talented one. However, to my greatest disappointments as well as I assume yours, this success came without a single, slightest semblance to any spilled blood and I know this means that I have failed you good folks for today, but on the other hand because of this minor failure I herby promise to down no less than 77 people on Friday night and by this setting a new club record, beating my old one by one salad dodger. How does that sound to ya all?? And don’t forget, we need to give the lads out on the field some media attention once in a while, even though it is the Bushwhackers who gets the job done most of the times, am I right?? But tonight, puh, the blokes did really well! And the”Johnny-no-stars” over at the”Dirty 30 section”, hah they looked even more knackered than they use too and that says a lot. However, they did slack with reason because today our boys produced magic out there:
12 minutes, or in my terms 4 pints into the game – 1-0 on a beautiful corner headed by probably the blackest man I’ll ever get to see, Ali Fuseini.
23 min/ 7pints and a “Wallace and Gromit” – 2-0 Own goal, by some redheaded punk looking somewhat like a ferret and he was through his acting giving the impression that he probably did belong somewhere else, most likely far, far away from everything that a football field represent and stands for.
After 46min/ or a halftime consisting of a 15 min “quick nap” in a what I remember as a pissoir, another “Wallace and Gromit”, countless of Stellas and besides “seeing a brown friend out to the coast” – 3-0 came, and I was luckily conscious enough to witness it, through the new upcoming talent Steve Morison as he received a splendid pass from Zak Whitbread and managed to chip it over the goalie and into the net. One of the most brilliant goals I’ve ever seen or at least so it appeared at the moment.
About 70 minutes into the match everything went black, this of course, partly as a result of the fact that I, at this time, had reached the, what I like to call, maximum “booze-barrier”, but mainly because I now also possessed the only important piece of information a Bushwhacker ever may possess, the knowledge of the fact that we had won!
Later today (upon my “awakening”), Brian of course filled me in with the details of how Fuseini had managed to score another dazzling goal in the 90th minute, a minute I’ve yet to witness. Although, deep down I know that I never will…
Remember; Bushwhackers for life!!!!!
Slang dictionary:
• Knackered - Trötta, hängiga, slöa
• A “Wallace and Gromit” - Kräkning, spya
• Stella - A certain kind of beer
• “Seeing a brown friend out to the coast” - Bajsa, skita, slå en nia

Thursday 19/11 -08

Two games down the road and the highlight of the week is approaching. The Charlton B Mob brawl was mint and 4 – 0 against Crystal Palace paves the way for advancement to the Football League Championship. Tomorrow West Ham will pay a visit and we will absobloodylootely give those pillocs a hard time on the pitch as well as outside. We haven’t played them for four years, and the time before that it was 10 years. I remember it was grand three years ago, a South-east London turned into a battlefield for a day. I never thought that a dustbin would be a useful weapon until I saw an Inter City Firm bloke in wine red-purple West Ham-shirt getting compressed under it.
We used to have a shipyard and so did West Ham. In the 1920s West Ham went on a strike but we continued to work, and since then we have always been worst enemies. West Ham has been playing in better division most of the time since that, but we were superior to them right before the breakout of World War II. They say our young talents would have taken us to Premier League and given us glorious results there, if not the bloody Nazi’s would have pluck our future stars from the pitch to war and left them lying in the mud of France. Tomorrow, the lads lying mush down apathetic in the mud won’t be Millwallians, but West Ham dockers.
Slang dictionary:
• Mint - Excellent
• Pilloc - Korkad, oanvändbar person
• Mush - Ansikte

Friday 20/11 -08

West Ham quickly got the lead 1-0, but then Darren Ward intercepted a West Ham pass and played it up the pitch to James Henry, who dribbled out to the corner flag and set up a sweeper to Zak Whitbread. Whitbread curled the ball into the bottom-right corner and there’s no way that the goalkeeper could be the scapegoat for that goal. The shot was brill marvelous!
That goal caused my Lions to turn up a gear and we were all sucked right into the genius plays displayed. It was as if Teddy Sheringham, Steven Reid and Cahill himself temporary occupied our eleven players. It didn’t take long until Morison lifted us up into the lead by a volley that hit the crossbar, bounced on a defender and then the net.
The tide has turned, now Millwall was on top. West Ham had been taken down to earth. Even though it’s still all to play for, the I.F.C had enough of the game and stormed the pitch. Hundreds of hooligans poured into and discolored the tip-top shape grass of the Den. This was obviously unforgiving and redemption had to be delivered. Me being the top banana I am, I took the funnel from Wez and made a row:
• “I.F.C, You’r dead Wazzacks walking!”
Mad as a box of frogs, we joined the I.F.C into the pitch. The first punch I handed out was to some moneybag in whistle and flute. He’s bound to drive around with a big mars bar in his mush in his flash car for a long while. Our anthem echoed in half of London that day.
“No One Likes Us, No One Likes Us, No One Likes Us – We Don't Care!
We Are Millwall, Super Millwall, We Are Millwall From The Den!
No One Likes Us, No One Likes Us, No One Likes Us – We Don't Care!
We Are Millwall, Super Millwall, We Are Millwall From The Den!”
Matches have come thick and fast this week and two giant fights for me. I can’t believe I written all this flim-flam during this last week. But I’m happy that I did. This was the week of the century. This was the week of my life.
Slang dictionary:
• coming thick and fast - många på inom kort tidsspann
• Top Bannana - Auktoritet
• make a row - Väsnas
• Wazzacks - Idiot
• Mad as a box of frogs - Språngande galen
• Moneybags - Snobb
• Whistle and flute - Uppkläd i kostym
• Mars bar - Ärr