It’s gone, guys. 2016 has just been lost to the greatest monster of all, the omnipotent and most certainly malevolent entity that keeps the Grim Reaper in check: Master Time. There he lurches amidst
That’s it, I’m done forever. I hereby renounce my faith in statistics, and encourage anyone with a fondness for this gentle sport to do the very same. Say it along with me now: “I
At 5pm on Tuesday, I was rudely awoken from my mid-afternoon slumber by a knock at the door. I begrudgingly hobbled towards it just in time to catch a bloke in overalls carrying a
I hope you don’t mind if I begin today’s report with a small shoutout for local journalistic publication and sometime publisher of JWAW guff The Wigan Evening Post. Like those sneaker-wielding ‘ballers in the
Watch yourself, PWU watchers, for the latest addition to the PWU crew is an officer. Not of the law, you might be pleased to hear, but of Supporter Liaison at Wigan Athletic. And what
All I need is the PWU show, blasting on the radio… well, mp3 player. Hmm, doesn’t quite have the same ring as Mike Rutherford’s original lyrics, but get Phil Collins singing and it’ll be fine.
Hey, fancy a John Smith’s warm-down? Nah, neither do I – the thought of hot beer doesn’t necessarily appeal for some reason. Plus it’s work in the morning and I can’t risk marrying a