If you could choose...

[Bob]

This is the scene, wednesday nights game has been drawn nil-nil, the tie is open going into the second leg at Anfield and God (the real one, not Robbie) shouts down at you from the great land above and due to his love of all things Liverpool FC, he gaurantees safe passage to the final but offers you two options for the second leg...

 

Which do you choose...

[Wig]

I've gone for the second option, but I really couldn't give a fuck as long as we win. A spawny own goal would do.

 

God I hope we win!

[FortressAnfield]

Voted for a hatful of goals, but....

 

What I would love to see is one of our men fouled in the box by Petr Cech in say the 5th minute, the ball trickles over the line (allegedly) and is immediately cleared. Pandemonium. Was it a goal? We say yes, Chavski players going ballistic and saying no, the Special One running on the pitch etc., etc.

 

Ref consults officials. Sends off Cech, awards a penalty. Robbie scores.

 

11 against 10. 1-0 up. And we stroll through the rest of the game, notching up another 3 goals. Maureen cries.

[Wool Woolsson]

After this weekend's whining from Maureen, I want to win from a dodgy pen after the chavs have had at least two stonewallers denied.

[RedinSweden]

Voted for a hatful of goals, but....

 

What I would love to see is one of our men fouled in the box by Petr Cech in say the 5th minute, the ball trickles over the line (allegedly) and is immediately cleared. Pandemonium. Was it a goal? We say yes, Chavski players going ballistic and saying no, the Special One running on the pitch etc., etc.

 

Ref consults officials. Sends off Cech, awards a penalty. Robbie scores.

 

11 against 10. 1-0 up. And we stroll through the rest of the game, notching up another 3 goals. Maureen cries.

 

I would deffo have that. Dream scenario.

[Unrighteous]

I picked the 'hatful'. Last time my stomach was doing flip flops the whole match and I nearly lost a stomach full of guiness, cod, and fried potato as that ball fell to Eider Twatjohnson.

[Newport]

 

 

Ref consults officials. Sends off Cech, awards a penalty. Robbie scores.

 

 

Sorry mate. That's only going to happen in the wonderful nation of Utopia. Not that he'll score, but he'll never be on the pitch that early.

[The Acolyte]

Id have to go for the first one.

Although I'd probably lose all bowl control come injury time. However to see Maureen have a stroke on pitch due to rage would make my year!

[Jay Glover]

Would be funny as fuck if we were given a goal that wasn't over the line just to see Maureens face and liste to his press confrence.

 

Winning by a hatfull would just feel so good and boost confidence ahead of the final.

[JangoSolo]

We win, don't care how!

[Bob]

We win, don't care how!

 

idiot, God has already confirmed that bit.

[Sut]

Voted for a hatful of goals, but....

 

What I would love to see is one of our men fouled in the box by Petr Cech in say the 5th minute, the ball trickles over the line (allegedly) and is immediately cleared. Pandemonium. Was it a goal? We say yes, Chavski players going ballistic and saying no, the Special One running on the pitch etc., etc.

 

Ref consults officials. Sends off Cech, awards a penalty. Robbie scores.

 

11 against 10. 1-0 up. And we stroll through the rest of the game, notching up another 3 goals. Maureen cries.

 

I'm having that.

You're a man with vision you are.

[Guest TK-421]

idiot, God has already confirmed that bit.

 

There's no such thing as God (the real one).

[Guest Jay W]

Has to be winning by a hatfull surely? Another dodgy goal gives the special mong reason to piss and moan for another five years. Winning by a clear margin would shut him right up.

 

Mind you saying that even if we won seven nil he'd still stand there and state the best team lost.

[chrisbonnie]

an own goal by Terry, then alonso breaking fat franks ankle and getting away with it would do me

 

but ill settle for thumping them 5 nil as well :thumbsup:

[Guest TK-421]

Has to be winning by a hatfull surely? Another dodgy goal gives the special mong reason to piss and moan for another five years. Winning by a clear margin would shut him right up.

 

Mind you saying that even if we won seven nil he'd still stand there and state the best team lost.

 

He'll just blame injuries, Chelsea's extra pressure in the league (like he did already) or the officials if we win. Anyone but himself or his players.

[declan]

I'd go for the spawny win just to hear Maureen moaning (yes, again)

[Scooby Dudek]

Go for the lucky win with the best bit being when Rafa says " for the first time ever I agree with the moaning one, it never crossed the line. The ref gave it so we have possibilities for the final, they do not."

[Ian]

Voted for a hatful of goals, but....

 

What I would love to see is one of our men fouled in the box by Petr Cech in say the 5th minute, the ball trickles over the line (allegedly) and is immediately cleared. Pandemonium. Was it a goal? We say yes, Chavski players going ballistic and saying no, the Special One running on the pitch etc., etc.

 

Ref consults officials. Sends off Cech, awards a penalty. Robbie scores.

 

11 against 10. 1-0 up. And we stroll through the rest of the game, notching up another 3 goals. Maureen cries.

 

I'd love that. :thumbsup:

 

Give them nothing to moan about hammer them 3 or 4 nil.

[185]

As tempting as the first option is, I'd love us to do them by a 3 or 4 goal margin so there can be no dispute over who deserved it

 

Having said that, walking back to the car after the FA Cup semi last year I was saying something about how at least Mourinho could have nothing to moan about and we were by far the better team, only to put the radio on and hear his ramblings about how the better team lost once again

[RoboRiise]

I went for option two, but this definitely needed a "3. Other (please specify)"

 

88 minutes played, no goals, Riise receives the ball wide around the halfway line. He shrugs off the ineffectual challenge of a tiring Michael Ballack and surges forward, cutting inside to exploit the gap between Essien, who has been forced to stay wide at RB by a clever overlapping run from Arbeola, and Carvalho who appears to be torn between coming across to close down Riise and picking up the onrushing Peter Crouch. Makelele can only watch in horror from the bench, having been sent off for an outrageous challenge on Gerrard just after the hour.

 

However Riise, oblivious to all else, unleashes a mighty thunderbolt of a shot that parts Carvalho's hair before impacting with the crossbar directly above Peter Cech's hands with the force of a small nuclear weapon. The ball ricochets down from the crossbar and out through Cech's legs at incredible velocity, at no point crossing the line, but the ref (who was in no position to judge the goal, having been distracted by Joe Cole throwing himself on the ground with no player within ten yards of him during the build-up) looks over to his linesman who, incredibly, signals a goal.

 

As the travelling Liverpool fans go wild, Jose's head explodes, Scanners-style, drenching the bench with all kinds of grisly pulp. Abramovich appoints himself caretaker for the second leg at Anfield, which Chelsea lose 13-2.

[ATXRED]

I went for option two, but this definitely needed a "3. Other (please specify)"

 

88 minutes played, no goals, Riise receives the ball wide around the halfway line. He shrugs off the ineffectual challenge of a tiring Michael Ballack and surges forward, cutting inside to exploit the gap between Essien, who has been forced to stay wide at RB by a clever overlapping run from Arbeola, and Carvalho who appears to be torn between coming across to close down Riise and picking up the onrushing Peter Crouch. Makelele can only watch in horror from the bench, having been sent off for an outrageous challenge on Gerrard just after the hour.

 

However Riise, oblivious to all else, unleashes a mighty thunderbolt of a shot that parts Carvalho's hair before impacting with the crossbar directly above Peter Cech's hands with the force of a small nuclear weapon. The ball ricochets down from the crossbar and out through Cech's legs at incredible velocity, at no point crossing the line, but the ref (who was in no position to judge the goal, having been distracted by Joe Cole throwing himself on the ground with no player within ten yards of him during the build-up) looks over to his linesman who, incredibly, signals a goal.

 

As the travelling Liverpool fans go wild, Jose's head explodes, Scanners-style, drenching the bench with all kinds of grisly pulp. Abramovich appoints himself caretaker for the second leg at Anfield, which Chelsea lose 13-2.

 

 

Fantastic, My boss was giving me funny looks because I just burst into uncontrolable laughter. Then I showed it to him (it's nice having an Irish Red as a boss) and he then burst into laughter as well. All the while everyone else in the office hasn't the faintest about what's going on and they're now giving us both funny looks.

 

I'd take the slaughtering, I'll be stuck at work, and I love running down the halls singing YNWA at the top of my lungs, and then having the guy who should probably repremand me for being unprofessional ask me who scored and then picking up the chorus with me. Match days at Rosco Laboratories are never boring.

[Unrighteous]

I went for option two, but this definitely needed a "3. Other (please specify)"

 

88 minutes played, no goals, Riise receives the ball wide around the halfway line. He shrugs off the ineffectual challenge of a tiring Michael Ballack and surges forward, cutting inside to exploit the gap between Essien, who has been forced to stay wide at RB by a clever overlapping run from Arbeola, and Carvalho who appears to be torn between coming across to close down Riise and picking up the onrushing Peter Crouch. Makelele can only watch in horror from the bench, having been sent off for an outrageous challenge on Gerrard just after the hour.

 

However Riise, oblivious to all else, unleashes a mighty thunderbolt of a shot that parts Carvalho's hair before impacting with the crossbar directly above Peter Cech's hands with the force of a small nuclear weapon. The ball ricochets down from the crossbar and out through Cech's legs at incredible velocity, at no point crossing the line, but the ref (who was in no position to judge the goal, having been distracted by Joe Cole throwing himself on the ground with no player within ten yards of him during the build-up) looks over to his linesman who, incredibly, signals a goal.

 

As the travelling Liverpool fans go wild, Jose's head explodes, Scanners-style, drenching the bench with all kinds of grisly pulp. Abramovich appoints himself caretaker for the second leg at Anfield, which Chelsea lose 13-2.

 

I admit... I laughed.