The past few seasons my personal excitement, my keenitude, for footy, for tipping, had waned to such a degree I almost changed my name to Wayne. I'm glad I didn't, it's a shit name. It tells a tale though that my Demonland nom-de-guerre is General Malaise.
I'd gone cold. But today I'm red-hot, ready to reconnect my rabid footy-ball fervour. My typing digit assaults the keyboard with renewed vigour. PunchDrunk has been resuscitated for its 30th straight year. And when I say straight, I mean continuous. I'm talking non-stop discotheque dancin' party.
Welcome back all who give a good god-damn, who care enough to belly-up to bar again. Rest assured though, the bar is still set way low to accomodate.
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