Howmanheyman

Seriously, Rondon looks like he's been on a bender last night finished off with a kebab and a marathon session with a Geordie shore slapper.

Rondon is one of the worst number 9s I've seen at this club (so far) and I go back to the days of George Reilly, Frank Pingel and Rob McDonald.

My grandfather was a Glens man, lovely bloke, quiet, intelligent, loved him. These fuckers are definitely no relations......

It's like Colocinni's letter again. Captain, leader, pawn.

'Fucked a pig? I fucked a country!' 'Camer-on, and on, and on. A taxi driver can't be wrong?' 'David Camer-wrong. My part in the lies and fall of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.'

'Strewth! Stevo! How'd you miss that you flaming, drongo pommie cunt!'

Diame was shit so he's replaced by a shit Ki. Muto was shit so was replaced by a shit looking Rondon. Perez was shit and replaced by the awful Atsu. I think we're seeing a pattern here. When someone is playing shit or is shit, there's another player at least as shit if not worse, to replace him. We're so slow to attack as there's virtually zero options up front. We could hit lucky in January and get a couple of players in who can make the difference and the team as a whole are fairly solid so it's not as if we're talking the realms of fantasy, but it's a massive ask and we need to be in contact with clubs just above the bottom three, points wise. As much as I don't want us relegated I want to see the fat cunt and his acolytes shown up yet again for the clueless way they run a club. Getting away with it isn't a success but unfortunately that's how they see it and probably feel vindicated. I fucking detest the man and his lickspittles.

We are so desperate for a decent striker it's painful.

Diame.

Perez and Kenedy combo just there.

One of Dave's friends wanders away from the group as they make their way to the recommended coffee shop and gets lost looking for the way back to the hotel.....

I'm just imagining a conversation about a trip somewhere with mates that involves discussing what coffee shop we go to? It's a pretty surreal scenario tbh.

No words. Ok, then, three. Needy. As. Fuck.

He must've been off his tits, like.

I've always liked his posts. Great lad, etc.

Not just an ex-player but 'played' a couple of loan games for us in another horror season, 90-91 I think? Shite and a bit bitter by the sound of him yesterday. Kept on commenting about people leaving early as the camera kept panning towards leavers even when it was two blokes only when everyone else was seated. Fucking desperate to have a pop at the fans.

Was talking to my mate yesterday, we both thought that relegation or a relegation fight would be a thing of the past when we went up with Keegan. The new Newcastle United couldn't be that club anymore, we were so much bigger and better than that. Up till that point I'd only seen us relegated once in 89, (the 70s relegation I was too young to remember). I find it staggering that a regularly European qualifying club could be relegated three times in 12 years if that's what happens this season. Three times with about three near misses chucked in as well. The legacy Keegan left this club with, the legacy Bobby Robson left and it ends up with this shit show? I'm still watching the games through dodgy TV as to be frank, going to games last year I was a borderline arrest waiting to happen, (when fueled up, obviously). I'm now watching games on TV but soon even that'll be too much of a fuck on. Howay's post is spot on, I'm not much different myself, even watching other football gets me pissed off at times. I'd honestly wish death on the poisonous cunt and really, how sad is it to think like that? He is pure poison and how he sits in that stadium is beyond me. He has to be one sick cunt to get off on the hatred, one sick bastard to keep on strangling the club and Benitez's face tells you what three years of working under this cunt and his assorted clowns have done to him. Will I go back when he's been totally cleansed from NUFC? Probably but it'll have to be the near future as what the club is now is a million miles away from the simple act of standing on a terrace watching honest players with my Dad, then mates, and not worrying about any horrific cunts ripping the guts out of my football club. It's soul destroying to watch.

Her real name of course is Jackie. Jackie Nory. And too fucking right I would.

Apart from being insane, They seem to have a strange fixation on the war or fighting.

My mother used to watch it. Absolute shit.

"Ok, who's up for some cracking deals? One at a time, please, one at a time. Form an orderly queue and we'll see what Great Britain might grant you.'

His patter, man. 'A certain john Lewis'* * (I sometimes don't know who's copying who).

Footy, eh? Marvelous, isn't it?

Here you go, highlights of it to jog your memory......