I usually wake up after a nights bo peep with a thumping hangover, the product of too many Britney’s in a Leo I had down the rub-a-dub-dub.  The first part of my routine is to head for the Pontius Pilate, open the Mother Hubbard and find the alka seltzer.  I mix this with some fishermans daughter and get it down my Gregory. After this I usually feel a lot better and I settle down with a cup of Rosie Lee and put the custard and jelly on and put my plates of meat up for a cock linnet. The next thing I know my basin of gravy bricks and morter will  have a pipe in your eye for attention and I have to give her a laugh before I go out. Leaving the trouble and strife at  the gates of Rome I go into the field of wheat and jump in my jam jar and speed off to Down Grange listening to the stereo. I always hope that there is no pleasure and pain and that the currant bun is shining.  That always makes for a Robin Hood day. Once in the changing rooms I am superstitious and always get undressed in the same way; tennis racquet, rhythm and blues, dicky dirt, jekyll and hydes, adam and the ants then Tilbury docks. On goes the White Hart kit followed lastly my daisy roots and Im ready to Bobby Moore some sausage rolls. Ade is the pitch and toss and he picks the team.  My ten speed gears are attentive as he names the players.  I know Im going to be mum and dad if Im not chosen. Eventually Ade has selected me as a rubber dub and Im going to have to watch the game from the Judy.  He needs to face brass tacks that he’s no chocolate fudge of a team.

Cockney Nick's Pre Match Routine