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Last week I bemoaned the fact that former Manchester City striker Uwe Rosler was being heavily linked with the vacant manager’s job at Griffin Park.
I received a complaint about the column this week from a member of my own family no less.
Another week goes by and, as I’m sure you are well aware, Brentford are still yet to hire a new manager. Many a Bees fan is taking to the internet to vent their frustration, while also stopping off to give their opinion on exactly who our next gaffer should be.
With only one game to go, the season is almost done and dusted, I for one am mightily relieved.
It was nice to see Brentford ruin The Football League Show's little package on the inexorable rise of Division Three's glamour boys, Rochdale.
During the last couple of weeks there has been plenty to smile about in the wide world of football.
Five minutes into the game on Sunday I experienced what I have come to know over the years as ‘that old sinking feeling’ and, boy, did we sink.
So the big day is nearly upon us. We are well and truly on our way to Wem-ber-lee for the Paint Pot Trophy and perhaps this time it is going to be different.
After last week’s column, in which I extolled the virtues of Bovril, I received a missive or two questioning my journalistic integrity (Your what? – Ed).
This week Brentford supporters endured both the agony and the ecstasy that only a last minute goal can summon.
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