Cold blows cancerous wind from evil den,
These are not lions, neither are they men.
Thugs besmirch our game whilst they boo the knee,
One more sick day in F Troop history.
Such cretinous shits, with borrowed salutes,
Who only act in packs, with blood on their boots,
Are vile, stupid, nazis through and through,
Coarse fronts, but we are many, they are few,
Fake football fans think they rule through fear,
With twisted logic, their pathetic cheer,
So last millennium, such stupid boys,
With clapped out chants and fat, farty faced noise,
Those swastika tattoos, that razored hair,
We never liked them, though they don’t, WE CARE.

Harry Rogers in the Red Bedroom, 6th December 2020.