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  1. 23 points
    After a long labour, Baby_B arrived on Sunday. Mum and little one are great but staying in hospital a few days as a precaution. She's beautiful, I'm besotted.
  2. 16 points
  3. 16 points
    "I'm Michael Carrick, assistant interim manager." "Assistant to the assistant interim manager."
  4. 15 points
    The shite, managed by an ex-Liverpool boss the Everton fans have long derided to be a fat Spanish waiter, at the pit on Wednesday night, live on Amazon Prime. Not a sentence anyone would have thought possible little over a decade ago, and yet here we are. The name in the hot-seat may have changed from last year, but bloody hell do we owe this lot. Many of last year’s problems had their roots in this fixture, and what the mongrels got away with beggars belief. Incidentally, that's two managers they've had who've exchanged the Bernabeu for the Barn Of Boo in recent years, on top of another who exchanged the Boo Camp for the Nou Camp. Anyway: Front foot. Urgency. Up-tempo football. Utter domination. Creativity. Know-how! I don’t ask for much. Yeah, last year’s game was practically a blueshite fan’s wet dream. They are more bothered about fucking us up than actually beating us. They love to see their players try to cripple ours. They love to roll out the blue carpet for fans of club that are ‘rivals’ to us, laying on the sandwich platters and having their heads patted by people who openly sing about the city and Scousers being workshy dole-queuing hubcap-stealing Neanderthals who eat rats as a treat in their slums. They love it when their team gets a pasting by these so-called ‘rivals’ because it makes things harder for our team. They love David Fucking Coote. I’d never heard of him before that day, but it’s safe to say I know that fucking idiot now. Even Boris the Biff would struggle to make such a hash of things. Two wrong VAR decisions that left me cursing Coote’s dad for not pulling out of his mum at the opportune moment! Sadio had given us an early lead. T-Rex Arms and his reckless lunge put Virg out for the season. Two headed goals conceded. Mo curling in a belter with almost no backlift. And then Hendo denied a last-minute winner when Sadio’s elbow was adjudged to be a millimetre offside. You can’t score a goal with your elbow but that didn’t matter to Coote. He and PGMOL were firmly on the side of looking to rule out perfectly legitimate goals for the most minor of infractions (or non-infractions), and we were on the receiving end of this shit all season. Of course we’ve had much better days at the woodshed. I could have pulled up any number of famous away wins (“Rushie scored 4!” anyone?) but I’ve chosen 6th December 1969. Shanks’ lads made the short trip to take on Harry Catterick’s Blues and their “Holy Trinity” of Ball, Kendall and Harvey. Breezeblock Head Joe Royle played up front for them. It was a side that would claim the league title that very season. By contrast, ours was a side that was in the process of being broken up as many of the manager’s stalwarts no longer had the legs. In this game it didn’t show though, as both the effervescent Emlyn Hughes and striking understudy Bobby Graham got on the scoresheet in a resounding 3-0 win. The game is best remembered for one of the greatest own goals ever. Certainly the greatest in a derby. Step forward Sandy Brown and your magnificent diving header. The big film in early December 1969 is another piece of utter magnificence. George Roy Hill directed it. Paul Newman and Robert Redford became box office gold off the back of it. Katharine Ross played it perfectly understated. Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid is an endlessly quotable, enormously enjoyable caper where the charismatic leader of a gang of railroad bank robbers and the fastest gunslinger in the West try to escape the mysterious white-hatted bounty hunter Lafors and his team of trackers, going as far as Bolivia. The film is so well done, you can forgive the Burt Bacharach musical number and long montage sequence in the middle of the film. Somehow they don’t detract from the whole experience. Butch’s last line is an absolute gem to go out on. Fuego! We know from experience that Rafa favours pragmatism over expansive football, and I wouldn’t expect any different here. I’ve no idea what overall shape his team are in because they just look like Everton regardless. They’re about where I’d expect them to be. We’ve had an excellent week and the worry would be that we then go and lay an egg on Wednesday night. But this is a group of players that know how to get a job done, and Jurgen’s list of available options is slowly increasing as players make their way back from lay-offs and others find a bit of form. We know we have what it takes to go there and win. Just go there and do it, and make their fans once again be like that guy in the gif.
  5. 15 points
    Thank you reds. A lovely birthday present for me today. I'm away with Mrs niallers and she has a face like a smacked arse that I've "ruined" the night by making her drive to the hotel and me watching it on the phone haha. Get in
  6. 15 points
    My time to shine. Been working in Motherwell and on the morning we were leaving I was feeling a little off but put it down to the Indian restaurant the night before that our clients had paid for in way of saying thanks for our work. My colleagues were all scoffing breakfast in the hotel but I left it, and as the final morning in the office wore on I could feel my stomach doing knots. Onto the train ride home and something is wrong, particularly around Carlisle and was visiting the toilet regularly to take a shit or trying to make myself vomit in a last ditch attempt to stop myself feeling so ill. By Preston I'm sweating profusely and annoyed by the gang of Cockneys who had been on the same journey who were now pissed and had party food on their tables, and the smell was knocking me sick. They were all suited and booted, and having those conversations that nobody wanted to hear, but they were screaming at each other so that people could be jealous of how fucking important they thought they were. Anyway, I'm getting off at Wigan to catch the connecting train to Lime Street so my work mates and I are all stood up with our bags and I tell a mate of mine to hold onto my stuff for me because I think I'm going to spew with the motion sickness being added to my I presume food poisoning. As I head towards the toilet I can feel the vomit rise from my stomach and shoot into my mouth, but heroically I manage to stop it from seeping out onto our aforementioned London friends and cover my mouth with my hands. My body decides to launch another gallon of spew from the depths of my stomach and it fucking goes everywhere, jetting from my mouth and between my fingers in a hose type fashion, spraying the Cockneys, their food, laptops, mobile phones and stops the 'bantz' dead. I just look at them, repeatedly saying sorry and being ushered away by a mate before I'm knocked out cold by two burly southerners. I jump off the train at the other end and my mate who's carrying my bag starts running towards me shouting, 'Look at their fucking faces!!!' and as I turn back towards the train there's a table of Londoner's staring at me in shock. I gave them a thumbs up to let them know I was okay. Spent the rest of the day in bed wishing I was dead.
  7. 15 points
    The domestic schedule is back after yet another international break. For most other teams stacked with international players it’s about getting back to a rhythm and preparing to compete on multiple fronts. For us it’s that, plus figuring out how to do it when half of those are out after picking up a ‘knock’. One day, our players might come away unscathed from international duty. One day. Control. Love of the game. Urgency. Bravery. Style. Heart. Organisation. Power. Tactical flexibility. Yer ma. I don’t ask for much. Last season’s corresponding fixture was very early in the season and saw us batter the shit out of the Gunners but only come away with a 3-1 win. Lacazette scuffed Arsenal into the lead against the run of play when Robbo mis-controlled a ball into his path. We got on level terms when Sadio converted the rebound after Mo had an effort saved by the keeper. Robbo made amends for his earlier mistake to latch onto Trent’s cross and lift the ball past the keeper for 2-1. Jota wrapped it up with a debut goal, chesting down a wayward Arsenal defensive header on the edge of the box and volleying home a low effort into the far corner. We’d got 9 points from 9 having faced a pumped-up Leeds plus Chelsea away in our first 2 games. Cast your mind back to the early-to-mid 60s. Alf Ramsey’s England would soon be hosting the World Cup in 1966, and the music scene was full of twenty-somethings making a splash on both sides of the pond. Live football was still a rarity, and the BBC looked for a new audience of football fans who could enjoy highlights far removed from the old Pathe newsreels. Even back then, football was a sure-fire way to get TV viewers. The very first Match Of The Day saw Liverpool take on Arsenal at Anfield in August 1964. Everton fans would probably claim it as a first via their usual mental gymnastics. Liverpool won the game 3-2 thanks to a goal from Sir Roger and two by Gordon Wallace. Wallace’s second was to prove the winner after Arsenal had clawed their way back into the match with goals from future Liverpool stalwart Geoff Strong and another by Joe Baker. Back then, the main camera was in the Kemlyn so the Kop is to the left of the screen. The big film making waves in August 1964? Why it was none other than A Hard Day’s Night, starring four fellas who were fairly popular in the States at the time. It’s basically an amusing caper mixing reality with fiction, a cracking soundtrack and a blatant cash-in on the band’s immense popularity. At that point, before all the psychedelia and sound experimenting, The Beatles’ signature sound was at the forefront of ‘Merseybeat’ which was at the forefront of the British invasion on US shores. Far from being a mere commercial cash-in though, it’s actually quite a good film that masks the fact these guys couldn’t act. They only really had to be themselves. Spice World it most definitely aint. We need to get back to being our usual selves too, but it remains to be seen what sort of squad the boss will have available come the weekend. Arsenal before the international break had quietly been picking up points and a few of their players have looked very good this season. Arsenal being Arsenal though, a catastrophic result is never far around the corner and, as Dave would say, they love to smell themselves when things are going pretty well. We have the means to knock them down several pegs, but it’s a question of attitude and application. Get those right and the points are more than likely ours. Just get in there and get the job done.
  8. 15 points
  9. 15 points
    Well thanks for asking, I have been, yes. I had this 1st floor flat, some 20 odd years ago. Opposite my flat was one other, some little old fella called Timmy lived there. Timmy was a housebound pensioner, quiet as a mouse, only ever saw him once or twice and he was skin and bones, looked about 100 years old. Anyway, it was May / early June, early on a Sunday morning and I'd been out on the piss until the early hours, so I was in the midst of a fitful drunken sleep, when I was jolted awake by a loud bang. Initially I thought that in my sleep deprived and drunken state I'd just imagined it so I closed my eyes and prepared to go back to sleep... however, that little voice in the back of my mind prompted me to go and investigate. Even though it was only 5am it was already daylight and when I walked into the passageway towards my semi-glazed front door, I was taken by the unnatural black and orange coming in through the dappled glass. Then I opened the door... I was hit by a blast of heat, flames and smoke were consuming the hallway ceiling and stairwell, old Timmy was laying by my front door. I lifted poor Timmy up and took him inside whilst I phoned the fire brigade, then I drenched a couple of towels in cold water and put them over our heads and hoisted Timmy up over my shoulder before I opened the door and legged it through the flames and down 2 flights of stairs, out the front door of the building and to the relative safety of the front garden. They fire brigade arrived quickly and neighbours came out to give us some water and to tend to old Timmy. It turned out that poor old Timmy had dementia and he'd put a plastic electric kettle onto a gas hob, it had melted and the fire had started that way. Timmy went to live in an old folk's home where he died peacefully shortly thereafter. The local paper called me "brave" and an "heroic neighbour". The local council gave me a £40 grant to buy new wallpaper, paint and cleaning products to eradicate the da!mage caused by the fire ! That loud bang I'd heard which had roused me from my slumber had actually been Timmy falling against my front door. Inadvertently I guess, we both saved each others lives that day.
  10. 14 points
  11. 14 points
    My cousins lad died the other day after a battle with illness at 21, his friends are taking a blue banner with him on it to this game. I will keep my eye open.
  12. 14 points
  13. 14 points
    Has anyone ever had their date walk out on them? Years who, I was seeing a lovely young woman and things were going pretty well. For her birthday, I booked theatre tickets and a hotel room in London. However, I got so drunk, when we returned to the hotel, I left her in the room and took to riding up and down in the lift, rolling out commando-style and throwing imaginary grenades, then rolling back in. Unbeknown to me at the time, she came out of the room, saw what I was doing, packed her overnight bag and left. Suffice to say, there were no further dates.
  14. 14 points
    Not sure if I've told this story before so if I have excuse me. I've made mention I was an ethical junkie back in the day as I had a couple of chemissty PhD's making designer nonsense for fuckheads like me and my mates gratis, keep this in mind. Friends 21st, we're drinking tequila shots over an early tea, 5/6(ish) as his parents have put aside £20 each for food each for all of us, they were posh the had a building company. Anyhows we all order the cheapest thing on the menu and the cheapest bottle of wine cause we were grown ups and shit. Then the pubs, then the bars, then the nightclubs... Fast forward 4/5 hours and yours truly is fucking oblitarated and bumps in to the chemists, by complete coincidence, and they give me a few tablets for 'whenever'. Things get silly and I get thrown through a partition in a night club. Bouncers, quite rightly, take exception to this and drag me outside and threaten to kick my head in. Thankfully the club owner exceptionally pissed off that I'd ruined the handiwork he'd genuinely had done the previous day, was less forgiving and wanted me arrested, charged and hung so stopped them and made sure they phone the police. Fuck. I panic and swallow the pill, only two, but stupidly strong, for fear of being charged and then having drugs on me. I'm arrested, handcuffed, waggoned and thrown in a cell..... I put my head on the mat and come up quicker than I ever have on any drug ever in a holding cell! Hours on my own off my tits, high as a mother fucker in a cell. Morning comes, the arresting officers aren't arsed as we just had a conversation about Freud and I lied my arse of about what actually happened. I'm cast out in the cold harsh morning, sans shoe laces and dignity and with a caution for criminal damage up to the value of £25,000 and a fucking stinking comedown. Managed to just get home in time for a full family sunday roast, that was tough. I miss being young and stupid.
  15. 14 points
  16. 13 points
    We need to remember this moment in time. Glazers in charge, Woodward CEO, Solskjaer as manager, Maguire as captain and Pogba as the club record signing. I honestly don't think I could have picked a better lineup.
  17. 13 points
  18. 13 points
    Yes. She was beautiful, talented (a published author), funny and very intelligent. A mother of two and owner of a funny looking dog. The difficulties she had were real and I wish I’d have been the friend she needed, instead of what I was. I might have been able to help her, she certainly would have been able to help me. I think of her often. This week I had something difficult I needed to do. At moments like that I understand a bit of why she did what she did, when she did. Driving home last night, I heard the song Vincent by Don McLean. Many of the lyrics remind me of her but, in particular… This world was never meant for one As beautiful as you.
  19. 13 points
    Briefly. Couple weeks ago was travelling home and ran into a transport truck parked across the highway. We and three other vehicles. It was a bit mad there for a while as we were pulling people out of burning cars, and then stood watching as a group of passers-by hooked a pick-up to one of the cars that was stuck under the truck with the driver still alive inside and yanked it out from underneath as the fire burned the vehicles next to it, truck tires exploding, fuel tanks going up etc. The strap kept breaking, but they just tied it back up and kept yarding away on that car til it was free. I haven't heard if the driver survived--they air-lifted her to Vancouver for treatment. But if she did they saved her life. Went to the hospital to get checked out as I was a little shaken up. Still sore from the seatbelt that kept me from going through the wind-shield.
  20. 13 points
    I'm fine with it. Players don't have to represent outdated ideas of masculinity. There's a lot of young people who'll appreciate what he's done there.
  21. 12 points
    Prison experience for me was from when I played a lot of rugby when I was younger. The league we were in had a game against a maximum security prison team in the north east somewhere. I remember as a young fella what a sobering experience the whole episode was, from having to get all your details checked out by the government, far in advance of the game, being searched, then the reality of the numerous checks as each iron barred gate opened, closed loudly and locked behind you. A real weird atmosphere and briefing on what to expect, what-if scenarios etc., before finally getting escorted out on to the pitch, which was double fenced all the way round, in the middle of prison. From the cells ‘fortunate’ enough to have a pitch side view, there were prisoners faces screaming dogs abuse from the barred windows! The pitch itself was pristine, but the shock of seeing there were overhead wires to prevent helicopters dropping in for rescue attempts, was soon replaced by the horror of seeing about 150 prisoners stood around the touch line. So, the game kicks off and immediately it was clear that the overhead wires would restrict the kicking game and/or add to the excitement of the game, as the ball dropped straight back down with no territory gained. Their team was mostly prisoners but with some guards in it too and we were obviously expecting some sort of Mean Machine script to unfold. Motivating comments from the crowd of “rip his fucking throat out”, and “you look good in those shorts son”, meant the full width of the pitch wasn’t utilised that frequently. To this date, I would say that this was the physically hardest but fairest game I’ve ever played in, with zero foul play. One of the guards who played explained to us afterwards when we mentioned it, that it was because if any prisoner crossed a line, they would lose their hard gained privileges for themselves and the whole team. So, in short it gave them a ‘fair’ outlet for their anger and frustration, a break from prison routine, as well as better facilities and food. A great game, both teams played well and it finished as a good scoring respectable draw, but when the final whistle blew, there was a pitch invasion! I figured it was literally my end of game, as prisoners swamped us all, but to my great relief and then joy, they were all patting us on the back and saying things like “Thanks for coming here lads”, “Thanks for coming to play”, “Really appreciate you coming”. A humbling and rewarding feeling. Again one of the guards later explained, that many of the teams they were drawn against would forgoe the game and points, so they’d train without getting a game. The more trusted prisoners didn’t get their two hours standing round a pitch for entertainment and the rest of the prisoners didn’t get their break in routine and probably no opportunity to gamble. The after beers session in the officers mess was also the strangest after game drinks I’ve been to, as the opposing team wasn’t there to get pissed with, save for 3 or 4 guards. Full rollercoaster of emotions that day, and certainly both an eye opener and deterrent to ending up in somewhere like that.
  22. 12 points
    They need to completely disregard anything we do. If they want to move forward as a football club they need a mission statement with 5 bullet points of what they want to achieve over the next 5-10 years, genuine, realistic targets, and if they do that then they could actually get out of the rut they’re in. They won’t though, they’re completely consumed by everything we do and that’s what is holding them back more than anything. The stupid cunts are stuck in a perpetual hell though because of us. I genuinely hope they go broke, the spiteful, horrible pricks.
  23. 12 points
    Gloria passed away yesterday. She’d been struggling and had lived with her son most of this year, she told me she was ready to go and had had enough. Absolutely gutted.
  24. 12 points
    “I always say you never plumb the depths of stupidity, but rather swim in the sea of adversity until you reach the shore. Ah, look, there’s Wee Joe with the lattes and muffins.”
  25. 12 points



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