Well, we knew it would happen one day didn’t we? The fucking Lizards want their own environment, their own trough to stick their snouts in and nobody else is allowed, no, just them bastards. Super League? How many times have you bought ‘Super Glue’ or ‘Super’ anything and expected it to be nothing but a waste of arse wax? So we wave goodbye to the ‘Top six’ English Premier League teams. Good, what was our experience of going to watch Wolves against these creme de la creme of footballing sides? Errant decisions weighted heavily in their favour, prima donna players who fall over if you as much as dented their trims, the atmosphere. God help us, the atmosphere. Like Aunti Doris’s funeral, like having a wank and all you have is a well thumbed copy of Razzle that’s an absolute work out for our imaginations. Manchester City/United. Tombs mate. Memorials to what football used to be like, as dynamic an occasion as the bronze statuary plonked in the front of abstract, lifeless stadiums. Boring and very shit. Is this a good thing? Well….

For a start it’s very interesting that an American criminal enterprise is funding this shift in power. JP Morgan the Bank. All of us probably have some interaction with these wankers in one form or another. They were the movers and shakers in the first world war. Lending money to the German, French and British governments so they could have some of the battles that marked some of the worst casualty figures of that war. The Somme, Verdun the names just roll off the tongue. All made possible with JP Morgan money. Not a good narrative is it? These people are animals, trust me. Football is not important to them…now I could fill this blog up with shit about the complexities and the like of this Super League shit but I’m not. I’m not even going to wax too much about Fosun missing the boat. That would have been heart breaking. But not that much. We already know that as a bog standard football fan nobody loves us. Not even Fosun. It’s a shame we have missed the great cock measuring presentation Wolves would have put on. Samosa Gandalf walking around like he started the club in 1877. Suzi Perry gurning at everything. Jaqui Oatley smooching about probably with Britney and Boro Judah lurking about. Everybody would be back slappy and happy. Jeff would be wandering around looking like he doesn’t quite know what’s going on…fucking hell. Is this what we have become when these light weights are what people think we are? Jeff would have had that contract signed so fast it would seem like his signature would have just magically appeared.

It will die a death of course, it has to. The dynamics of these Lizards is uncreative and dull. They see personal positions of power becoming more solidified. They see cash money flying in, they see themselves as atop some sort of pile or other. They sit and count their cash with dull eyes and very sticky fingers. But they will die. They can’t create they can only sell what us, me and you make. What do I mean by that? Football is us. Me and you. The club is there purely as a catch all for the often disparate fanbases. Wolverhampton Wanderers for instance is really just a name for the people that it deems to represent. Us. Our history. This is what makes teams attractive to people from other countries. If they decide to follow and English club it will be a pre requisite to understand some of the history, I don’t mean cups, honours, trophies. I mean rivalry, hate, love. All the interesting football things. A player will never become a hero to people when all he has is a shiny video and a show reel of goals etc. A hero becomes a hero only when we, the fans can identify some of the Heroes struggles with our own. We make these heroes. Not the Media. We create everything. The songs, the madness, the spectacle. It’s all us, never them. They are the timetable writers and the Gonks. They are the people with great video software, the people with shit podcasts. The people like the Press, the Lizards who run the big six. All products of the bankers now and the money men. We know why you have to break away and start deeply sucking that JP Morgan Satan dick mate. You haven’t got any money. You spent it all trying to keep your snout in the trough and you have failed. Manchester City aside the big six is just a list of dying clubs. I intimated the same thing in the second of the Nuno books. Dying clubs because simply, they have lost touch with what makes them a great football club. Us again.

With the hate over VAR and other issues we have been a bit cut off haven’t we? As these people slowly try to destroy what we have made over the years. Are we going to put up with it? Nah of course not. Fucking Wolves ay we? What should be the strategy? OK. Here’s an idea. When we eventually get let back into the ground we should do a number of things. Don’t like a VAR decision? Lets get on the pitch for ten minutes and smash every piece of VAR gear they have there. I mean totally destroy it, fling it to the side, walk back into the stand and wait for the footy to restart. Put a mask on so you cant be identified. Get back in the stand quick. We will look after you. Don’t like Stockley park? Lets get everyone down there for a demo, maybe things would get out of hand and there could be a possibility that the place gets burned down to the ground. God forbid. Don’t like the way the television media moves games? Don’t watch them. Tell companies involved in advertising on these football shows you will not buy another product if they continue to do so. Still annoyed? God forbid someone vandalises one of those expensive camera trucks outside the ground. We don’t want that. What if these vox pop camera crews from Sky or the BBC are seen around a ground. Get involved, stop them interviewing, stop them doing their jobs. Stop them feeding off football. They want an opinion on the match? Don’t give them one. Do they support the formation of a European Super League? If they do they are the enemy. Start to draw lines in the sand. Start getting in their fucking faces. Get active. Make badges, Tshirts, start writing blogs, start getting angsty and angry. Start fucking fighting back. What about the doughnut wearing a traitor club shirt? Let them know they are a wanker. Laugh at them, point your finger at them, accuse, vilify. Time to attack brothers and sisters…(and those that are in between.) We’ve had it done to us so lets start doing it back. The thing is…if they attack us then we have to attack back don’t we? Isn’t that self defence? Something we love is being killed off and you expect us to grip our piss water partner brand 8 quid beer while we hold a forlorn, shitty ten quid burger in our hand while wearing our 80 quid club approved shirt and you cant sing until the club approved MC in front of the ‘WOLFPACK’ singing section starts bellowing shit songs through his club approved megaphone. They will probably get Mikey Burrows to do that to be honest. Wave your approved flags then exit the stadium in an approved manner…Jesus Christ. Fuck off.

How much do they expect us to take before things start getting horrible? It’s warfare isn’t it? Really. I love a scrap I do. Never happier when I’m in a strange pub with 60 against 6 before a game and it kicks off. These money men and the whole idea of these bastards trying to take away the game I love fills me with rage not fear. I don’t fucking care about your media events and your slick marketing. I don’t care about the fucking Gonks you parade around in front of us. Where were they years ago when things were shit. I’ve never seen Samosa Gandalf before Nuno came. I never saw any of these Gonks at Aldershot, Crewe, Carlisle, Millwall. Who the fuck are these people? Trough snufflers mate. You want a fucking fight I will give you one if you want. Plans are afoot, emails have been exchanged, information passed on. You lot operate on a bloody rarified platform but that platform is built on sand and mine are on solid ground, my stand, my stadium and my team, my brothers and sisters in the stands. Nah you will never beat us because we are the people that make things. We are the people that create. In this madness of being a Wolves man or woman the club entwines itself in everything we do and it becomes a focal point for our dreams, loves and hopes. We pin fucking everything on it until we cant see ourselves as being separate from our club. But you can’t love something that doesn’t have a soul. Franchise football eh? When will Liverpool move to Miami? When will Manchester United move to India or China? Then what will these cities have? Nothing at all. The succulent meat of the European Super League will turn to ashes in their mouths.

Don’t lose heart. Moan all you want, that’s good, it means we are talking and exchanging ideas. Don’t engage with the fans of the six traitors. There is no point. They have fast tracked themselves into the future and that future aint bright my friends. It is dark and there will be casualties. They are now pariahs and I hope they gain something on these strange JP Morgan built roads they are on…but I doubt it. Don’t lose heart. In the future it may be seen that FosunWolves will make a move to join this super league and the club will become even more detached from us than it already is. That’s cool. Because we are still here and we will just replace the club name you have stolen off us with another one, then make that Wolverhampton, make that Wulfrunian make it something to do with us not you. It’s time for a dictatorship of the fanbase. It’s time for us to make our voices heard. Support your team. Support Nuno. Watch Fosun with a crinkly eye.