Good morning from cloudy Cheltenham, the capital of England.
We have thermal baths and if you google a photo of the city you can easily understand that it is a bit Cyrillic here. They hold their teacup with their little finger always extended apart from the rest and watch noble traditional English sports which of course do not include football.
There are also some crooks who at this moment and while outside there is the classic British cloud with a lot of humidity, they are eating eggs and bacon in a pub with the players of the team who have just returned from London. The big double at The Valley in Charlton dominates the conversation between the lopsided, punters and patrons. In the expressions that are heard, there is nowhere the noble ow, on the contrary, something incomprehensible "swoo", "poppy", "kooooooll" dominates.
Our team's badge is simple and unnecessary without dragons, swords, flowers, without the slightest jingle, breaking away from the usual emblems - blockbusters of English teams.
That doesn't stop us in the slightest from raising our beer glass with our little finger extended (because we're from Cheltenham dammit) and shouting together in the pub...
LET'S GO BABY TSELTENAMARAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA