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About Bristol

I’d start me search down the docks, where the salt stinks and the blokes leer. “Life is a mystery,” Amélie’d say, “you must untangle it!” – and ain’t that the truth here? All these lasses got stories, mate, hidden like her bleedin’ gnome. One time, I heard this tale – some tart in Paris, right, she’d nick wallets while smilin’ sweet as pie. Sneaky, that! Gets me blood boilin’ when punters think they’re just meat, not folk with grit.

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First off, I had to run to the office on Keptie Street. You know, the one with the dodgy coffee shop? Yeah, that one. I swear, their coffee tastes like burnt rubber. But I needed my caffeine fix, so I chugged it down anyway. I was like, “This is fine, I’m fine.” But inside, I was screaming.

The inside story of how Arbroath went from being League 1 bottom dogs to champions