Howmanheyman

:lol:

The club isn't due a clanger, the club is ran a clanger basis.

Ian Botham played cricket for England, Archie Gemmill played football for Scotland. When do I get my prize?

What a shower of shit we have around this club.

Spelling mistake, I meant are you Brian Damage?

Proud to be British!

This one?

Anyone fancy quoting it, it's too small on my phone. Is it a ryder piece?

Brain damage?

Pardew claimed cars were starting to drive a bit too close to him when we were on one of his heavy defeat runs.

Pooetic, Poyetic, err, I thought I'd stretch it a bit, like.

The secret diary of Lee Ryder aged 44 and a half. 18/02/2015 Well diary, ah thought ah'd pay a visit to me Ma's to see how she was getting on, like. Ah was in the kitchen going through the fridge for some Marksys biscuits that she always gets when the door bell rang, me Mam went to the door to answer it as ah delved through the choccy biccies on my quest for a treat. A minute later me Ma opens the kitchen door to say that there was someone asking for iz. "Did he say who he was?" ah said to the Ryder Matriarch. Me Mam said that no he didn't say who it was but he looked a bit desperate, had a NUFC tracka top on, had a DVD copy of 'The likely Lads' in one hand and a Bobby Robson DVD in the other. "Fuck me!" Ah said, "What!!!!!?????" Me Ma replied with a death look on her face ah knew only too well, "Ah mean, dear me! It's gotta be John Carver! How did he know ah was here?" Anyways ah goes to the door and right enough it was Carvs standing there. "How's it gannin, Lee? Ah phoned the Chronicle and they said you'd be here. Can ah come in, like?" said the head Coach of Barrack Road. Ah asked him what he wanted and his face got a dark look about it. "Your fucking mate Neil Cameron, not exactly on board with me getting the job permanently is he? Ah'm needing you to go into overdrive, mate, Ah'm even hearing Rafa rumours now, man! Lee Ah need your help." Ah thought, nee way am ah going to stand by and see a fellow Geordie overlooked for the Toon managerial vacancy so ah says to Carvs, "Had your horses, John, chill oot! Ryder's fucking on it! But ah'm expecting the phone calls from SJP to come into Thomson House via the Ryder extension not the Cameron one, Capiche, Bonny Lad?"Carvs agreed all too easily and not only had ah secured the next Toon bosses aliegien, allergecienc, err loyalties but ah had also done Cameron up like a fucking Kipper! You just have to get up dead early in the morning to catch out the Knight Ryder, the premium man 'on the United beat' as me old mentor Ollie would say. An hour later Carvs sent round U21 player, Kyle Cameron to big up Geordie John giving youth a chance and also asked me to have a go at young Lubo Satka while ah was at it. "Why's Carvs pissed off with Satka?" Ah said to the Toon starlet. "He's not." Kyle replied, "Ah'm the one fucking pissed off. The Slovakian twat sent this lass ah fancy a text asking her out." Ah had to laugh, like, Big Andy Carroll said it with fists to my singing black and white canary, Stevie Taylor, but young Cameron was being a bit more subtle using yours truly for revenge, ah didn't think it was ethical, but ah divvent like these foreigners stepping on Geordie toes so ah did a hatchet job on the foreign love rat and got another Toon starlet onside which was another thing ticked off the list after me nark, Remi Streete fucked off to Ibrox. Three birds and one stone but that's all the ammo the Trinity group regional sports writer of the year needed to get Cams one and two plus Carver right where ah wanted them, ie, in me Levi's back pocket. Lol. Laters, diary, Ah've blagged Sir Les's phone number off Rob Lee, time for some easy Toon retro copy for me loyal Chronicle readers.

Officially Jel.

Joe Harvey took a holiday And went to Budapest Joe Harvey took a holiday And went to Budapest Those extra games in Europe Put our thin squad to the test So we won't do that no more Who's that cunt they call Mike Ashley? Who's that cunt we all abhor? Well we play in black & white But we couldn't give a shite Cos it's not worth watching any fucking more.

Everywhere we go! (Everywhere we go) People wanna know! (People wanna know) Who we are! (Who we are) Shall we tell 'em? (Shall we tell 'em) Who we are (Who we are) We're the financially, we're the financially, We're the, we're the, we're the financially stable mags.

'Gold' - spandeau ballet

We are the Geordies! The Geordie nice boys! And we are pleasant, And we are canny, We love John Carver, He's our own charva, And think Willo is definitely not a fanny.

Charnley wants us to sing this: "Ashley's dream! (Dream) Always believe in the dream, All for profit and just fuck the team, The cup's are quite terrible, Always believe iiiin..... (repeat)......

Lucky cockney bastards.

Am reading 'all with smiling faces' and these pioneers of football who made our club from nothing are the absolute opposite of this cretin who isn't fit to sell the half time pies to our support never mind lecturing them on conforming to the Ashley blueprint. Fuck off Charnley, when the club finally gets fumigated your role won't be forgotten.

I had a canny sup at a concert once. It was a Whitney Houston concert at the arena which I got roped into as one of the Wife's unreliable friends completely and unexpectedly couldn't make it which left me going with the Missus and stumping up near a £100 for the privilege. Once I realised you were allowed drink in your seats I filled my boots. As I was in the middle of a row so I thought I'd take turns which way I went to the bar so not to sicken anyone and be a pest but the very first time I got up a Mrs Bouquet look-a-like and her hubby gave me such a dirty look I made a point of going past them every time as well as going past them to siphon the python. I also, by pure luck, managed to drop my bait as I went past her one time. It wasn't right, but it was okay, as the late Miss Houston might have said.

Llambias is a fucking snake. I wouldn't wish him and his fat mate on anybody. (ok, they'd be perfect for Chelsea).

Any updates on our cup game?