A red mist descends
A visceral fury of righteous indignation
A blow below the belt
An offence to the British sense of fair play
But, distracted by the bluster and obfuscation
The bystander is looking in the wrong direction
He takes his eye off the ball
And intercepts a hospital pass
Feeling the full force of a leg-breaking tackle
As his tibia shatters into pieces
He is stretchered off the pitch
Driven to A & E
To find himself waiting on a trolley
In a dim corridor
The pain slowly building
Without triage or painkillers
Waiting for the morphine hit to numb the senses
As he writhes in agony
Looking for someone else to blame
Antenna
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