trophyshy

Tranmere is famous in Brazil. It is twinned with Ipanema.

Bonjour, avez-vous une épée en plastique?

Sunak wasn’t at Live Aid ffs. He just heard it from his summer school in Bucks, the jug-eared gobshite.

To me he appeared to learn how to act during the series, at the start he was nativity play standard; shepherd understudy. Anyway I didn’t wish he’d get his cock lobbed off, I’m not a monster.

Tidy bush that Fist. Love to see it.

Yes! Totem pole tastic.

Poet Laureate - give it Giggsy 'til the end of the season.

They are sickeningly good at times, but are a decade or so ahead of us. I hope we can catch them in the next 5.

DMs open?

Chris Wood coming on doesn’t make me feel more like we can win this.

Fuck me if we can hold this win. Some marker. Wilson is so classy. Oh for a full season.

Aye, it’s fucking unbelievable there, £1m for a 2 bed flat ffs.

Didn’t they used to tour with Sisters of Mercy?

Steve Barnes couldn’t believe it. He’d barely been at the club long enough to memorise the local takeaways and already the knives were out. He thought this time would be different, this time his skills would finally be appreciated, respected, even revered - like what Pep does. But no, as he stood picking more eggshell off his nearly-new Lexus, he felt that bitter betrayal working its way into his heart, again. The Lexus was a beauty though, sort of looked like a cross between a cruise liner and a spaceship. He’d had many hours of pleasure in her already, as the passenger footwell testified. They’d all been so nice to him at the start, just a few months ago. They’d met all his demands, even down to the waffle maker and bidet. Why was he here again? He knew why of course, his enduring nemesis. Results. What they didn’t appreciate was each and every bad result wasn’t down to him, only the good ones were. Barnes had his list for every game, and each list was memorised, like that Deliveroo website. He could win Mastermind with it as his specialist subject, easily. One day he'd get Alex to analyse all these and share the data with Luke. Should get a few more articles for us both out of that. Easy money. 18 April 2022, away defeat 5 minutes - biased refereeing 8 minutes - opposition looking like they have been training ffs. 14 minutes - referee, again! 21 minutes - that cunt Lee Rider is here! 26 minutes - back line failed to follow my instructions 34 minutes - back line failed to follow my instructions. 44 minutes - this referee is an utter cunt like. Half time - gave the lads a proper earful. One of my top drawer speeches, somewhere between Joe Pesci, Fergie and Churchill. Probably whuz best performance so far today. No time for usual meal, which I'm anxious about. 45 minutes - FOR FUCKS SAKE MAN. 50 minutes - these forwards are shite, I can’t work with this. 59 minutes - they’ve parked the bus now, this just isn’t fair. 66 minutes - A GOAL! Get the fuck in! Exactly how we worked on on training - they can follow instructions after all! 67 minutes - goal disallowed for extremely dubious two players offside. 68 minutes - FUCKY CUNTY BALLS BASTIDS. This defence man, total shite. 75 minutes - I’m hungry now, struggling to concentrate. 80 minutes - this twatting referee man, he’s not getting a drink off of me later. I'm off for one now, fuck this. Full time - another game ruined by biased officials and the team failing to follow my simple instructions to not concede goals. It wouldn’t matter though, it never mattered that it was never his fault. What mattered was he was in charge and had to carry the can despite it never being his fault. Life is just unfair he thought, checking the time on his Rolex Yacht-Master with multi-coloured gems Anyway, moving on, the Lexus was looking perfect again and he had to get off to his night class. They were learning how to make Baklava, a result that was assured to please, he laughed. Oh yes, he could taste the sticky sweetness already. Just time for a couple of Big Macs en route. Eat the pain away bonny lad.

We could do with the pulling power Keegan had.

We’re pretty solid. Good result. Hot day out. We could do with a magic forward. Maybe next year.

*summerses

I am going to this. We are going to smash their back doors right in.

Sunderland ‘til you die? Think again, marra.

Nice to see Dee Dee’s turned his focken life aroond.

The trophy looks like a flaccid penis. Coincidence?