SHEFFIELD 0 CLEETHORPES TN 0
with Chris Towers

Sweet nothing
The Owls of Cleethorpes came and played on a gown of brown and green, with Sheffield steel and a scoreboard
The colour of custard. And lemon jackets for the stewards, dressed for drizzles, armed for spats, and spittles
Floodlights torched the patchwork of a pitch of a pudding kind, the ball was leathered
Lumped and pumped and lathered, splat. Sheffield scored, but the game stayed flat.
Offside! the linesman deemed it dead. I saw it from the shed,in seats of blue and stands of wrought iron red.
Spectators rose and fled...