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About Craiova

Me, I love it—gets me buzzin’, happy as a pig in shit. But once, right, this bird was rubbish at it—hands like sandpaper, no rhythm, like she’s kneadin’ dough for a bleedin’ pie. Pissed me off somethin’ fierce—wanted to yell, “Fare thee well, ya amateur!” straight outta Llewyn’s songbook. But when it’s good? Oh, mate, it’s like the world slows down—pure bliss, like sippin’ a martini in a tux, dodgin’ bullets.

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But wait, it gets better. Right when I think it can’t get crazier, the lights flicker. I’m like, “Oh great, now we’re in a horror movie.” And then—boom! Power goes out. Total darkness. People are whispering, and I’m just standing there, holding my gavel like it’s a sword. I’m thinking, “What do I do now? Start a campfire?”

Fati, Christensen and Torre out of Barca squad for Atletico Madrid clash