Upon hearing that James McFadden had been replaced on the left by Quincy in the starting eleven, Geoff was disgusted. "That Quincy doesn't track back or put his foot in - and he sulks. We'll miss McFadden", Geoff commented.
Sid reminded Geoff that when McFadden plays, Geoff tends to point out that "that McFadden doesn't track back or put his foot in, and that he sulks". Geoff didn't respond.
As Tamas Priskin put Watford 1-0 up courtesy of some shocking Blues defending, Geoff was quick to point out that Blues were missing Liam Ridgewell, given that the lumbering (inter-racial) twins Radhi Jaidi and Martin Taylor were exposed more than a kidnapping plot concocted by a thick Yorkshire chav. "But Geoff, you think Ridgewell's a 'f*****g-liability-Villa-bastard-f**k-off-back-to-Villa Park' most weeks?", queried Sid.
"He is", Geoff clarified, "but he's better than Taylor". Sid had to admit that his friend probably had a point.
Kevin Phillips made it 1-1 not long later with a fine header. "Crap defending", Geoff pointed out.
"Well, yes", said Sid, "but it was a cracking header - we haven't got another forward who can do that".
"O'Connor", said Geoff. Sid looked down and shook his head. Geoff hated O'Connor when he played. "Plus he should never have been unmarked in there", Geoff added.
Moments before Marcus Bent made it 2-1 to Blues, he hadn't got back from a position 30 yards offside within the 4 seconds it took for the ball to knocked back towards him. "Lazy ****, Bent!!" screamed an outraged Geoff.
"He'd just chased the ball down and pressurised the 'keeper - he had no chance to get back", Sid argued.
Geoff was having none of it; "he's lazy and wins nothing in the air", Geoff responded, as Bent won his fifteenth header in the first 20 minutes - and found a team-mate with it too, "bring back O'Connor."
Then Bent did score with a super first-time left-foot drive, and Sid couldn't help but flash his friend a smile. "He mis-hit it", said Geoff as Sid continued to glare at him, "crap defending too", Geoff added.
As the first-half finally died down a little, Geoff decided he'd had enough of the young kids sat behind him trying to get some songs going in an atmosphere so dead that even necrophiliacs were turned off. "****ing kids", Geoff sighed, but loudly enough that he could make his point.
"It's kids for a quid though", Sid told him.
Geoff didn't care. "I don't care", Geoff replied, "should charge them £20 and keep them away".
Sid was, as he often is, baffled by his friend. "Geoff - you're constantly saying that the tickets are too expensive and that more should be done to get them into the ground, and you hate how many Manchester United and Liverpool shirts the kids in town wear?"
"F****ing Bent", said Geoff.
It was Sid's turn to get the pies and bovril in at half-time. As he returned he handed Geoff a meat and potato pie and a lukewarm bovril. "I asked for chicken balti", said a despondent Geoff.
Sid apologised. "God, sorry Geoff, you're right - my mistake. I ordered the wrong one."
"I bet it was one of them foreign ones who gave you the wrong one. What's wrong with getting some English staff? Least they'd get the order right", Geoff commented, ignoring Sid.
"No, Geoff, it was me - I actually ordered you that one. Sorry. You like chicken balti anyway", Sid responded, raising an eyebrow at the fact that his friend had already taken four huge bites out of a pie that he claimed he didn't want.
"Bovril's cold too", added Geoff. "Bloody foreigners."
As Beau Brummie took part in some bizarre ten pin bowling game with a giant bowling ball and some bizarre 'It's A Knockout' skittles, Geoff surprised his friend. "This is quite good", Geoff remarked. "Better than that f***ing shed." Geoff had always laughed at the shed when it was about.
Watford were quite bright early in the second half and looked a much better side and posed Blues one or two problems. They still weren't creating a great deal, however, and their left-back in particular was poor with his distribution. "Should never have sold Sadler", Geoff mused.
"You hated him, Geoff", Sid replied. "You used to say you could do better and that you're 52 and have no left-foot".
"He's fitter than Quedrue and better going forward than Murphy".
Sid was now close to tearing his hair out.
As Marcus Bent left the pitch to a standing ovation to most fans, Geoff greeted his withdrawal with an "about time, McLeish... gerrimoff!!!" However, upon seeing that Cameron Jerome was coming on, Geoff turned to Sid and said, "may as well have kept Bent on for all the use Jerome is - he'll miss ten before he scores".
A few minutes later, Scott Loach denied Jerome with a good save and Geoff nudged Sid and said, "told ya, Sid. What did I tell you? Gerrimoff!!!"
Another couple of minutes later, Jerome outmuscled Leigh Brondby and rattled the ball past Loach left-footed and into the back of the net. Geoff celebrated by jumping around and hugging one of the young kids behind him. Sid kept grabbing him by the arm and saying, "Geoff... Geoff mate... Geoff, he's not given it. Free-kick."
Geoff finally realised and took out his frustrations on not the referee, but Jerome. "Stupid f***ing free-kick to give away, Jerome. Gerrimoff!!!"
Another minute or two later, Jerome curled a superb effort into Loach's top corner, and this time it did count. Geoff again celebrated by jumping around and hugging one of the young kids behind him.
"Crap, huh?", Sid asked Geoff mockingly.
"Nah, good finish that", Geoff said missing the point. "Bang in form at the moment is Jerome. Looks much more clinical and ruthless in front of goal." For the forty-seventh time, Sid rolled his eyes and bit his tongue.
Some more shocking defending saw Watford make it 3-2 late on and left Blues hanging on a little towards the death. Quincy played his part by holding the ball up well and taking some of the pressure off Blues with some fine, pacy wing play. "Doesn't do enough for me, Sid, that Quincy".
"He's had a good game", said Sid, clearly having grown tired and weary of Geoff by now, as he did every single time he went to the Blues with him. Why did he do it to himself?
On the way out at the end, Geoff wasn't happy. "Too close that was, Sid. We're conceding too many goals. We'll get nowhere with defending like that."
Sid had had enough by now. "For f**k's sake, Geoff. Six weeks ago we weren't scoring enough goals, were going to get nowhere with attacking like that and should have been more like Wolves and Reading. Now we're doing what they were doing weeks back and they're not looking so good, and you're still not happy. You're never bloody happy. When it's not Bent who's crap, it's Jerome. When it's not Quincy, it's Ridgewell. When we win 1-0, we should have won 3-2. When we win 3-2, we should have won 1-0. When there's a decent crowd, it's full of kids because of the cheap tickets. When it's a crap crowd, we should have charged less to get people in. When it's not the shed, it's the bowling ball. When it's not the pies, it's the bovril. When it's not the referee, it's the assistant. When it's not Andy Watson, it's Roy Aitken. When it's not David Sullivan, it's David Gold. You're driving me to drink. Fancy a Stella?"
Geoff had ignored most of his friend's rant, but one comment had touched a nerve.
"Stella?", Geoff responded angrily. "Foreign muck. Make mine a Carling."