BY THADDEUS NANKERVIS
I don’t know how it came to this, but whether you like it or not, I feel that I’ve got to share. I have been cursed with a terrible affliction, and it’s one that is threatening to completely envelop me and take over my life. I am sexually aroused by goalmouth scrambles.
As soon as the ball starts pinging around the penalty area, I get a semi. The first time a shot hits a defender on the goal line I get fully engorged. Now it’s a melee, and I’m tingling all over. By the time it’s bouncing all over the box, I’m approaching the vinegar strokes. A couple of ricochets off the woodwork, a well-timed block, and a whole-hearted hoof back down the pitch, and it’s all over. The ball is cleared and I’m reaching for the Kleenex.
How and why it started is lost to me. It might have been that I saw one down at Underhill during my teenage years, and the association has stuck with me ever since. In all honesty, it doesn’t really matter now because I’m stuck with it, and I’ve even come to accept it. Goalmouth scrambles turn me on in a way that no person ever can.
But why is it that it’s the scrambles that get cleared that really gets my juices flowing? Surely it should be the ‘orgasmic’ ending of a goal that should bring me to climax. I’m no psychologist, and I’m none too smart, so I can’t fully explain it, but I think it might have something to do with the ultimate frustration of others meaning only I have gained satisfaction from it. It’s a bizarre and twisted form of narcissism of sorts.
All I know is I get a chubby whenever footballing pinball occurs. I have lost hours scouring the internet for the hottest goalmouth action, and have fapped myself blind watching the dirtiest, filthiest stuff known to man. Or Sunday League football, as most people know it. I’m okay with that, and with your help, I hope the rest of the world can be too.