Exodus Chapter 1 (cancelled) - By Grist

Last updated : 26 November 2004 By Bigrich.....

Things have been almost biblical in their unfolding, we’ve had Saviours (Booth), Messiahs (Moore), false prophets (Freeman, Smallwood and maybe RUST), the prodigal son-in-law (Hull), more Judas’s than we would like to count and periods of 7 years fast followed by 7 years famine.

Whilst we’ve not had the plague of frogs, locusts and other signs that announce the coming of a Moses like character to lead us to the Promised Land, we have had our fair share of deprivations down Millmoor way.

Savior or not?

But out of all of the comings and goings Ken Booth is the one that fills me with the most anger and loathing. Why this is I don’t really know myself but I mentally spit when I see the man’s name. To some he’s still the saviour of the club, to others, like me, he’s the Devil incarnate.

I know it’s possible that without Booth we wouldn’t have a club to support, but nobody knows for certain whether or not another saviour would have come along had Booth decided that he didn’t need a tax break company.

The really irritating thing is that we could have left the bondage of the old Millmoor and started on the road to the Promised Land if only our Saviour and his Herod like partner (kill all support under 5 years old) hadn’t ripped up the road map. We didn’t want anything earth shattering like the parting of the River Rother all we wanted was a plan and some respect, we got neither.

To add to our woes our now exposed Saviour has decided to take his talents and bury them. Plus to make things worse he’s going to banish the Messiah and crucify the club. It’s almost as if he’s decided that if he goes then it all dies with him.

So our Exodus to the Promised Land has yet again been cancelled due to the Pharaoh Gimmethemunny jumping on his chariot and riding off into the West (the Nat West) leaving us poor slaves to more years of thin pickings and Pukka pies.

Did I say I didn’t know why I hated him?

Now I know, I’ve seen the light, I’m off to daub the lamb’s blood on the door, and it will say “Booth Out”

Keep the Faith,

Grist