Best 18 quotes of Dougie Brimson on MyQuotes

A game?’ Rob spluttered. ‘A bloody game?’ He turned to face his father. ‘This is your bloody fault! I’m living your bloody karma!

A very worrying development at lunchtime. As we were walking down the Charing Cross Road, Emma put her arm through mine. Not even Liz has ever done that and it’s fair to say that it was a bit of a shock. Because as far as I’m concerned, walking along arm in arm with a bird means that you’re a couple. And although she’s nice and all that, I don’t think of us in those terms at all.

Emma has just rung and sarcastically asked me if I was ever planning on asking her out again. After fighting back my initial reaction to answer ‘only if you’re going to put out this time,’ I told her that, in these days of equality, it was her turn to ask me. Which, amazingly enough, she did.

Fitchett smiled to himself. He loved this bit, when it’s about to kick off. Half terror, half ecstasy. The adrenaline surging through him like an electric current. His breathing coming in short gasps and his stomach trying to push its way up through his throat. ‘The Buzz’ they called it. And they were right. Fitchett was buzzing, this was what it was all about for him. This blast of magic.

He hated hospitals, hated them. The stench of Domestos and death seemed to linger in his nostrils and on his clothes for weeks, as if to remind him of something bad. It was even rare to find a tasty nurse these days. Most of the ones he'd seen this afternoon had been as ugly as sin.

I always enjoy the day after a hangover. Each time it happens, it’s my own little victory over the demon drink.

I think you're a shit,’ said Keith sharply. ‘I think much of what you’ve done this season is shit and I think what you've put everyone involved with this club through is shit. How’s that?

Okay then, we’re set” he thought. “Come and get it”. The enemy, his enemy, were walking into the classic football ambush and they didn’t have a fucking clue.

Oh really?’ said Mayes raising a mocking eyebrow which put Rob in mind of a poor man’s Roger Moore. ‘And what on earth makes you think that you of all people would be allowed anywhere near our board meeting? Rob’s smile widened as he realised that he was about to have one of those golden bombshell moments of the type he’d been on the receiving end of all too frequently over the last few days. ‘Because Mr. Mayes, I’m your new chairman.

One of the things about football fans in general is that they all think that they’re the same. But they are not. This is a myth put about by people who wish that they were the same as the geezers. There are, in fact, a number of distinctive types of supporter, and although they all have a role to play, they are all very different indeed.

These days, things were different. Much different. For the most part, what fun there was to be had at Upton Park came from the cat and mouse side of the contest. Thinking on your feet and trying to outwit old bill while still trying to get one over on the opposition. It was like a real life computer game, Theme Hooligan. He still got a buzz from it though, but not the same buzz. And he wasn’t alone. The scene was dying on its arse although that wasn’t always down to the police.

To be fair, her expected hatred of all things male has not materialised because it is clear that she simply dislikes everyone. I suspect that this is an attempt to remain aloof from the minions but it has backfired badly. The women, who were looking upon her as a potential saviour, now regard her as a traitor to her sex. The blokes are just relieved.

To be perfectly honest, if I had my way women wouldn’t even be allowed inside grounds, and I certainly believe that if a ground is sold out and a male of the species is locked outside, someone should go in, grab the nearest female and throw her out so that the bloke can have her seat.

Two hours later, a noise resembling a hippo rolling along a corrugated iron roof shook Jane from her doze and Rob bursts through the living room door.

Well we certainly don't want to see that kind of thing,’ admonished Jeff Stelling. ‘Did it calm down?’ ‘No,’ shouted Kamara. ‘It got worse. The police were just getting involved when the chairman was hit by a pie thrown from the crowd.’ ‘Was he injured?’ asked Stelling, struggling to suppress a giggle. ‘I don’t think so,’ laughed Kamara. ‘He sat down and started eating it!

When you lived on the wrong side of the law, information, however vague or apparently meaningless, was everything. It gave you leverage. And leverage was power.

Women‘s football is crap. If it were any good people would go and watch it, but it isn’t and they don’t. And, to be honest, I doubt they ever will.

You see football isn’t just about 90 minutes, it‘s about passion and, yes, if you like, about life. We men will do things under the umbrella of football fandom that we would never dream of doing in any other sphere of life, and within the pages that follow I will try and explain why.