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Newport's Men of Gwent
There I was, last sunday evening, sat in a seedy pub in Levenshulme with the world famous 'Jon Langford's Men of Gwent'. Turns out they were from Newport.
At the mere mention of Accrington Stanley and the forthcoming match on satdi they all claimed to be rugby fans, or just mere players of folk instruments with no interest in sport at all.
That can only mean one thing: they sense a heavy beating at the hands of pride of Lancashire and wanted no part in it.
I can't blame them, for saturday is the day when it all falls into place. Our legendary defence is inpregnable, the midfield starting to click, and, surely to god, we will see Boco and Fletch start. The consequences for our welsh friends will be dire.
It will be a day when Andy Holt realises that his new massive screen will need to cater for a team scoring double digits. A day when lozenge sellers will be busy for the crowd that have sung and screamed themselves hoarse. A day to tell you children about, and your children's children's children's children.
Marvellous. Cannot wait. Simply cannot blummin wait.
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