Ah, I get your drift, but I think you've overlooked things that are a direct 'end result' of this... Disaffected fans Disorientated players Loss of Cat 1 status Season ticket sales going off a cliff Owners said to be displeased 'couldn't give a feck' Strikers playing as wingers or left-backs Most players out of contract or back to their own clubs at the end of another bewildering season Tactical nous of a fly round a lightbulb Facial expressions more normally associated with 1950s toothless bloke competitions Young prospects sent out on loan so that Rovers can pay through the nose to blood other club's puppies A slow burn (yes - the club is slowly burning down around our ears) 170 fine new properties on the ground where Uncle Jack had a vision of a flagship training facility forever Drizzle cake all round... .... to name but a few 'end products'.

Yes, but of course only 10 miles down the M65 they're born with 6 fingers....so naming conventions for food items are a mere bagatelle... (or is that baguettelle)?

Aye, had another embarrasing episode on the Big Market up the Toon, when trying to pay for a stottie butty - gave the shrewish woman what I thought I heard her asking for (80p) and she kept say, "No man, neynty pee" which to my more cultured ear (yeah right!) sounded like '80p".. after a while a local stepped in, dipped her hand in my fistful of change and called me something unrepeatable, again adding the ubiquitous "you aren't from roond here, hinny" Going back to Sheffield, briefly, I was amazed to hear someone order a cake butty - turned out to be a dab on a barm cake..

Lol - it's like a whole new universe over there 😉 I remember many years back going on a Saturday day out via Manchester, to Sheff Utd (we got battered and arriving into Sheffield late morning. We went to a chippy near Bramall Lane for lunch and I was mortified to have the pish taken out of me by the lass behind the counter, when I asked for peas with my fish and chips, and a 'Dab'. "Thaas not from round here" she said in a loud brogue, "We don't doooow peaAASS, and whats a Dab when it is at ome? - do you mean a cake?" I think my pink cheeks were probably visible from outer space! (well I was only 15 and a bit of a weed) Lovely city, Sheffield. Now I mean - back then it was the arsehole of Northern England 😉 ANYTHING to avoid talking about today's shower of shite....

Hmmm.. maybe you are onto something there....

Don't give these bastards oxygen (Mowbray and LT, not ye!) Clicking through on these fanporn links just makes it more likely they'll shovel more shite at us that way.

I used to work at Brockhall, back in the days when it was a large hospital and residential complex for folks incarcerated because they were different or had a child in 'unusual circumstances' and there was a bloke there (Henry) who worked in the Physiotherapy unit. Henry used to rock up for his shift and instead of doing any work, he just used to go into the hydrotherapy pool area (always kept nice and warm) and curl up with a book amongst the great piles of towels in bags...emerging only most days for tea and cake and to bugger off home. Cushy number... I wonder if TM has a similar MO?

The Telegraph was a poor excuse for an out of touch rag bag even before it started publishing drivel at this level of inanity. Now it is absolutely nailing its colours to the mast, and unashamedly coming out as a propaganda peashooter to pour salve on the half-wits dumb enough to read its wretched content. Journalism is dead at a local level. We just have brown-nosing mouthpiece morons posing as honest conduits of the wisdom of the ones upstairs. No wonder we are in such a shitty position. Sack the fooking lot of them.

All I need to know, to be fair...

And there's me, thinking the Venkys were 'business people'...

Get stuffed. More ITK horsepooh. About the same level of credibility as the orange one saying go inject yourself with bleach to kill covid, IMO

Ok, who are you hearing this from...?

W What a genuinely pathetic piece of 'journalism' there from Sharpe. 'Poor Me' written in large sycophantic letters right through it, from start to finish. Layers of 'I don't know what I'm doing any more' spelled out in gushing prose by the so called journalist. 'It's not my fault I'm here', 'I'm hostage to the whims of some faceless and disinterested bastards who are really responsible for this' set out in total and abject capitulation by the useless gurning twat. And the worst insult he could possibly add to this shit-show? Yes, indeed, right there in black and white.. "I can't leave until someone upstairs tells me to go' WHAT A FOOKING COWARD. WHAT A FOOKING COWARD. WHAT A FOOKING DISGRACE. GET OUT NOW.

Will the BRFCS rep on the Fans Forum please step forward. We need to have a clear set of messages to take from here, to there for the meeting on Monday 8th March. If members of the BRFCS Trust can also lobby for clear messages to go the club via that forum, and try to ensure these are consistent with the priorities coming from here, that would help to drive home our points. Get on there and join too (£10) rather than spaffing it on this Saturday's inevitable smoke screen.. https://www.roverstrust.com/

Don't hold your breath... 😉

Here ye go... from 2.40 in - ruddy glorious!!

As we used to chant in the BBurn End of a Saturday... "Wanker, Wanker, Wanker, Wanker.." (I was about 9 and so thin that if I turned sideways I looked like a trouser press)

Go on then, I'll bite. What is 4.45...?

As I've said elsewhere ad nauseam, there isnt anyone on the ground (sic) who has the authority to dislodge this gurning Teesside sheister. Unless he falls on his sword, he ain't going anywhere...

"It's a slow build" Well, I'm at the point that if that is the case, I'm off to build a bonfire of my fondest memories of being around this club, the good times and the bad, the Shearer goals, the Batty & Le Saux handbags at 30 paces in Russia, Meccy going round in circles in the middle, Tugay ghosting past Liverpool's finest as if they weren't there, Terry Gennoe at full stretch, Andy Crawford tap ins, Kevin Hird and Waggy tearing up defences, Roger Jones calm and collected, Paul Dickov jumping like a flea to head in, the walk down Livesey Branch Road with my dad, the scramble to get through the turnstiles as the team come out onto the pitch, the long journeys as a teenager to see our heroes fall once again in some godforsaken shithole of a ground, Bentley's magic against United, Gamst's goal rammed imperiously past the fat hapless six fingered goalie in front of their stunned fans in the Darwen end, the whole team bossing it against cream of sides in the top flight (where we once believed we belong), and Tuesday nights on a blustery evening against Hereford with one man and his dog except the dog wasn't even bothered... All of that and, like you all, much much more.... I think at this point I'll just park the bus on my memories, and wait patiently until something comes out of the fire that rages in the remains of Blackburn Rovers, because what remains no longer represents anything I recognise as being my club. OUT!

Damage limitation is the best we can look forward to for the rest of this season. What a fucking crock.

laxatives, i think is the term you are searching for...

Can't call him a taxi - taxis are useful for something...

MTS - Mowbray Talks Shite