A keen Fulham fan since he was 16, he has followed the Whites through thick & thin and reckons that Curly Watts is a woosey if he thinks Man City driving him to drink was bad. Before 11am, The Pope is more akin to Derek Nimo and willing to spend the time chatting merrily about how well the Whites are doing, and the evil that is David Mellor. Sadly, by 11.05, The Pope is more akin to ‘Father Jack’ from channel 4s ‘Father Ted’, and is best avoided at all costs.
He is now 73, of beetroot complexion, and still has his own teeth (three of them anyway,) and thinks that Mohammed Al Fayed should be made King and bugger what anyone else says.
Here he begins what he hopes will be a regular feature in TFi, a Holy unbiased look at the world.
Any offence caused is completely unintentional and it should be understood that he was probably drunk at the time.
The Pope has been err...convalescing recently after an intense amount of research into the workings and difference between gas pumped beer (especially Tennents) and Draft ale (especially Fullers ESB)
All being well he should be out....I mean back with his findings on Friday.
He has been unable for comment but in a rare glimpse of consciousness, he asked me to pass on these few, but warming words to you all;
"Heyyy yer fuggin basssaass ahhhahaha......I'll take tha lottaye on ye fuggers coomeeem on eeeee blbluuuurrrgh"
I'm sure we all appreciate what he means and wish him a speedy recove...return.
(check back here on Friday 11th for some inane ramnblings)