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The Secret Diary of Lee Ryder (aged 44 and a half)


Craig
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I don't like calling people spastics but this bloke man. His headline today "WIJNALDUM ARRIVES IN CALIFORNIA SAFELY", what was he expecting? A fuckin plane crash, or a homey like Marsellus Wallace to stick a blow torch up his aaaaaass?

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If only that were the worst part of it.

 

 

The Dutchman arrived just after 7.30pm local time in Sacramento after flying into the Sunshine State amidst a boiling temperature of 29 degrees.

 

Errr... the Sunshine State is Florida. California is known as the Golden State.

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Reading it to mesel proofs that wuz's rit it man! Not sure what else uz nessess, nescescc, reckwire, reqwhy, fucking errrr, fucking leave us aloan ahve the morras Top 5 Srnicek haircuts to get rit up ffs.

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The secret diary of Lee Ryder aged 44 and a half

 

 

22/07/2015

'Yeeee Haaaaah', diary!

'Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’! Keep the toon news rollin’,

Keep the toon news rollin' Geordie Pride!'

'I want to wake up…..in a city that doesn’t sleep!'

'Viva!!! Las Vegas!!'

'Do you know the way to San Jose?'

Guess where I’ve been?

That’s right diary!

Sacramento!

Ah got up this morning and took an ‘elevator’ doon to the ground floor in the hotel ah was stopping in for covering the trio of Stateside toon games. Obviously ah knaa not all me readers have been to the good ‘ol US of A, so ah thought I’d not only get ah’ll the craic off the likes of Schteve the Boss and future England Captain, Stevie ‘Tayls’ Taylor, no not just their craic, diary, not just the write up of our games as well, nah, not just that shit, ah thought ah’d hoy in some culchara, culchuru, err, some yank phrases and places of interest. Ah’d started off in Millwaukee, home to the Fonz who’s almost as cool as me, then California where Clint Eastwood had ‘made their day’ by being a mayor once and had supped some Broon ale into the bargain, then ah finished off in Portland where ah struggled to find a famous person if ah’m honest but had a laugh with the ‘regular Joes’ who made up their support. Ah’d telt them ah was a famous journalist in the UK and they were fucking eating oot of me hand with all me tactical formation talk about ‘soccer’. Ah was ‘Tailgating’ with some US Mags which is basically eating and drinking out of the back of a car which was fucking ok with me, like, as ah love nowt better than deeing a bit of weight lifting when it's a full pint glass ah'm lifting, like, when one of them pulled iz aboot something ah’d said aboot California, he said, “Buddy, California is the ‘Golden State’, not the ‘Sunshine state’, that’ll be Forida” Ah telt him ah’d be in a ‘right fucking state’ if ah drank any more of the blooter they were chucking doon me neck, but like Ruud’s understanding of the Tyne & Wear derby, they just didn’t get it. Anyways, the pavement was a ‘boardwalk’, the mustard they had wasn’t as hot as proper English mustard and me Steve McQueens didn’t need a belt nee more such was the sheer amount of bait on offer! Lol! Ryder and out!

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I was located on 15th avenue and the luxury of the venue was that within a few blocks or let’s say 10 minutes of walking you are soon in the thick of it in the city centre and on Portland’s Broadway.

:cantlook:

 

Ben Arfa (bottom left) has basically just given up now. Sad to see.

NUFCvPTFC-8.jpg

Edited by The Fish
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