Ali McCoist and Darren Fletcher on realizing they’d been under-handed the poisoned chalice of commentary for such a shit-show masquerading as football, quickly considered a drug induced panacea of psilocybin mushrooms and contemplated the virtues of assisted dying.
Spurred on by their professionalism, they declined both options and instead opted - due mostly to their embarrassment at only having the vocabulary that could not be aired to narrate such an event - to dig out their lexicon of footballing stats and beguiled the listener with countless irrelevant stats and tales of days of yore . . . such as the Barca v Inter games a couple of weeks before . . . days of yore not being that yore these days!!!!
Ali and Fletch, bewildered as to how Spurs actually scored a fuck’n goal, and after repetitive video repeats of the goal, declared it an own goal of Luke Shaw and then retracted, to award it to Brennan Johnson of Spurs. Johnson’s build up movement prior to it ending in the net was the only thing they could actually speak of as resembling football. His actual contribution as to how it eventually ended there lead to much confusion, with Utd defender Shaw playing the biggest assist in the whole affair.
Utd’s defence, incapable of issue warnings or non-verbal cues to their fellow players or even the basics of speech for that matter, decided through collective telepathy it was best to just leave it . . . mmmm. Johnson, initially making a complete fuck of the cross, saw the ball inadvertently hitting the luckless Shaw and bouncing ‘madly’ towards the goal post where the hapless Onana took time out from drinking a smoothie to make what only could be described as a ‘WTF’ attempt to save it. Johnson, stumbling from his fuck of the initial cross, continued to stumble and swipe at it until he went past the post on one side and the ball in to the net on the other, carried there by the momentum of his swiping rather than any actual physical touch. Johnson completely stunned and shocked by the result of his antics, made off down the goal-line towards the corner flag to celebrate with a double knee slide only to discover that the grass on the far side of the goal line isn’t watered as much as the pitch and thus his celebrations turned in to a car crash - yet another fuck-up!
And so basically that was the game and what is purportedly called football. Two useless bags of shit teams, one who parked the bus after a goal was scored (Ange having stumbled upon Mourinho's auld notes in his office desk drawer while looking for his crayons for his colouring in book presented to him by Levy) in their favour and the other who had no idea how to get around it. Both, whose premiership survival (17th and 16th) teetered on the edge of the abyss only to be buoyed by Leicester’s, Ipswich’s and Southampton’s relegation to keep them up. A selflessness and altruistic act that those 3 clubs should be proud of . . . taking one for the Prem! And who by some miracle of the footballing Gods, the two dung-bags ended up in a European final!!!!!!! Bilbao must be, seriously, must be wondering, how the fuck did we fail so miserably?
Ange, reminded the media of his two year silverware prophesy while they reminded him that he most likely will not be there in Sept/Oct to enjoy the fruits of it, and Amorim, decrying that he should be sacked, was not . . . yet, but awarded £100m to buy players to rebuild his squad, once made up of spitfires but since replaced with hot air balloons.
All based on the money saved by the 400+ redundancies driven by the billionaire Radcliffe’s increasing greed at 72 - should buy at least 1 spitty these days. Grealish anyone?
But the most galling aspect of it all – my beautiful Gunners played their balls off all season to finish second and the Yids who finished 17th out of 20, have ended up with a better seasonal result! European silverware and CL football next year. Fuck, that sickens me, but that is the ‘beautiful game’, is it not?
Levy and Radcliffe must be quietly contemplating that auld Super League thingy without the chance of relegation!
Ali and Fletch, bewildered as to how Spurs actually scored a fuck’n goal, and after repetitive video repeats of the goal, declared it an own goal of Luke Shaw and then retracted, to award it to Brennan Johnson of Spurs. Johnson’s build up movement prior to it ending in the net was the only thing they could actually speak of as resembling football. His actual contribution as to how it eventually ended there lead to much confusion, with Utd defender Shaw playing the biggest assist in the whole affair.
Utd’s defence, incapable of issue warnings or non-verbal cues to their fellow players or even the basics of speech for that matter, decided through collective telepathy it was best to just leave it . . . mmmm. Johnson, initially making a complete fuck of the cross, saw the ball inadvertently hitting the luckless Shaw and bouncing ‘madly’ towards the goal post where the hapless Onana took time out from drinking a smoothie to make what only could be described as a ‘WTF’ attempt to save it. Johnson, stumbling from his fuck of the initial cross, continued to stumble and swipe at it until he went past the post on one side and the ball in to the net on the other, carried there by the momentum of his swiping rather than any actual physical touch. Johnson completely stunned and shocked by the result of his antics, made off down the goal-line towards the corner flag to celebrate with a double knee slide only to discover that the grass on the far side of the goal line isn’t watered as much as the pitch and thus his celebrations turned in to a car crash - yet another fuck-up!
And so basically that was the game and what is purportedly called football. Two useless bags of shit teams, one who parked the bus after a goal was scored (Ange having stumbled upon Mourinho's auld notes in his office desk drawer while looking for his crayons for his colouring in book presented to him by Levy) in their favour and the other who had no idea how to get around it. Both, whose premiership survival (17th and 16th) teetered on the edge of the abyss only to be buoyed by Leicester’s, Ipswich’s and Southampton’s relegation to keep them up. A selflessness and altruistic act that those 3 clubs should be proud of . . . taking one for the Prem! And who by some miracle of the footballing Gods, the two dung-bags ended up in a European final!!!!!!! Bilbao must be, seriously, must be wondering, how the fuck did we fail so miserably?
Ange, reminded the media of his two year silverware prophesy while they reminded him that he most likely will not be there in Sept/Oct to enjoy the fruits of it, and Amorim, decrying that he should be sacked, was not . . . yet, but awarded £100m to buy players to rebuild his squad, once made up of spitfires but since replaced with hot air balloons.
All based on the money saved by the 400+ redundancies driven by the billionaire Radcliffe’s increasing greed at 72 - should buy at least 1 spitty these days. Grealish anyone?
But the most galling aspect of it all – my beautiful Gunners played their balls off all season to finish second and the Yids who finished 17th out of 20, have ended up with a better seasonal result! European silverware and CL football next year. Fuck, that sickens me, but that is the ‘beautiful game’, is it not?
Levy and Radcliffe must be quietly contemplating that auld Super League thingy without the chance of relegation!
⏩ Cam Ogie is a Gaelic games enthusiast.
As a Leeds fan looking forward with a degree of trepidation at our return to the Premiership, a big name will deffo be in the category of three possible worse teams than us. Shout out to Sunderland, Arsenal women and Aberdeen as well. Well done.
ReplyDeleteI've got 50 bucks on united getting relegated next season, 😆
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