Once more we hope for the best but fear the worst

The chap who deeveedees the matches for me — look, I’m horribly middle-aged and not very good with the oul’ technology — had a confession to make last Sunday night. He’d neglected to tape the first half.
Once more we hope for the best but fear the worst

He was expecting a few impolite, meaningful words.

Instead he very nearly received a hug and a payrise.

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