Reality's well and truly biting now.
No Money = No Talent and that's where we are now.
In simple terms:
For some bizarre reason, Dean Holdsworth and his flight of fantasy vanity project Sports Shield doggedly pursued the purchase of BWFC and eventually won the day, despite Eddie The Twat repeatedly bending him over a barrel and demanding that he be made President For Life and retain a financial stranglehold over the club with his sneakily inserted caveats and clauses.
Holdsworth's main financial backer fucked off as soon as he got sight of the accounts and suddenly Ken Anderson, a football agent (Boo!) who had previously been banned from being a company director appeared on the radar and we were all supposed to believe that he was our saviour.
He then swiftly knifed Holdsworth in the back and fucked him off, replacing him with his son and set about reassuring us that all was well at BWFC.
At first he looked a bit awkward in interviews but then he quite soon realised that we were all so desperate for anything that remotely resembled good news after years of suffering Gartside and Davies lying their bollocks off to us as they steadily piled up the debt, he didn't actually have to do much at all in order to reassure the rank and file that he knew what he was doing.
Yes, so it took about 3 months to appoint a new manager, despite constant drip-fed releases from within the club about an appointment being imminent and we only actually got one about two weeks before the season started, but we still believed back then!
In Ken we trust!
And he delivered Parky....
An "experienced League One manager" who "knew his way around this division" and all that guff.
"Woo-Hoo!" we all cried, "We got da man!", despite swathes of Bradford fans informing us that he was a one-dimensional twat who relied on hoofing it up to a big man and who didn't have a Plan B.
Fuck off, Bradford fans, you bitter losers!
And then we were top after five games! The dream was on! Prem again in three seasons!
Erm, no........as it turns out, Parkinson's fucking useless, a fact irrefutably demonstrated by the fact that he signed a bunch of plodding shite and can't get them to string two passes together, Anderson is now doing an Eddie Davies (when did you last see him talking to the press after his initial burst of "I own a football club, me" enthusiasm?), Holdsworth's been relegated to a Gareth from The Office type role, where he hangs around trying to look like he's important and the accounts still haven't been filed, despite them being six months overdue.
We are up Shit Creek.
And we dropped the paddle a long time ago...