A Day In The Life Of A Flagmantle Supporter

8:30 am – it has been a full week since my last meltdown. My therapist suggests I reward myself with a special treat. I decide to run a hot bath.

8:40 am – I drop in one of my wife’s purple bath-bombs that I have carved out into the shape of Serong. I intend to soak myself in his essence while convincing myself that today will be different. Today Flagmantle returns. My wife asks me if I think she’s ever going to be intimate with me again. I tell her not to look at me.

9:30 am – I accidentally call my son Brayshaw when he comes to hug and ask me if I recovered from my sickness last weekend. I tell him that daddy is better and he’s rewarding the family with a trip to JB Hi-Fi to pick up a TV that hasn’t copped a Swan stubby to the screen from close range.

11:00 am – get a good deal on a 75” and notice a Flagmantle lanyard strap on a staff member. We have a polite disagreement when the worker refuses to admit J.L is destroying our contested possession plays.

11:05 am – I am escorted out after trying to snatch that Freo lanyard strap off her neck. It isn’t my proudest moment but it’s not my worst. The wife agrees to chalk it up as a win because I didn’t rant so hard that I shat myself.

12:00 pm – settle in for my weekly West Coast loss session. A bunch of us loyal Flagmantle supporters set up webcams so we can see each other enjoying the slaughter. I am reminded to ensure the webcam is aimed above the waist as apparently no one wants to see that again.

1:00 pm – I can barely maintain my schadenfreudian-stiffy due to distressing flashes from the past few weeks of our own shellackings. At a critical moment, Banfield pops into my head and I completely soften. It appears West Coast’s misfortunes can no longer carry me this season. I need more.

3:00 pm – I go through the motions laugh-reacting at Eagle’s posts and supporter comments. Again, there is no rumble in the jungle and not even bringing up their 2006 drug past can boost my libido.

3:30 pm – I prepare to head to Perth Stadium by anxiously necking drinks and reminding myself of the 2022 AFL premiership season. It was the last time that I truly felt alive.

4:30 pm – on the train I see a young Sydney supporter talk to his parents about how excited he is to see Buddy play and hoping they’ll win. I tell the little shit to get a fkn clue and attempt to start a purple passion chant. I am once again advised to calm down.

5:50 pm – best 10 minutes of footy I’ve seen. The boys are back. Flagmantle has risen from the ashes. My joy quite quickly turns to agony. Each passage of Sydney play drives another nail in my emotional-coffin.

6:40 pm – I alternate between screaming aggressive-nothings at the shitforbrain overpaid players and staring numbly at the scoreboard trying to scratch off my FLAGMANTLE tattoo. I predict I am 1 loss away from giving it the 2018 Aussie cricket team treatment.

6:45 pm – I am escorted out for dropping too many c-bombs around the tender ears of young children. At least I can’t be accused of leaving early if I’m being evicted. I am not some scumbag Eagles supporter.

7:00 pm – I try to signal to JL that I’ll be waiting for him in the car park. I am unable to get his attention. I feel like another meltdown is brewing. The wife reminds me to stay off social media this time.

8:00 pm – I, naturally, take a contrary view to the suitability of me jumping on social media. I can feel that meltdown slowly creeping on. Within mere minutes I have lost control. I am literally frothing at the mouth.

8:30 pm – Although I wasn’t happy at the time, FB imposing a 24 hour ban on me for making threats as a blessing. It has probably prevented me from copping a cease & desist letter from the umpire association.

9:00 pm – Having been muted, banned or blocked on every social media channel I decide to contact several lawyers about starting up a class action lawsuit against my father (for planting the Freo seed in my mind during my childhood) and the Fremantle football club for fraudulently leading me to believe they were contenders.

BREAKING: Oppenheimer director reveals he originally wanted to make a movie about the state of WA footy in 2023 but feared audiences couldn’t handle a disaster on that scale

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