Chowder Charlie is at it again, moaning about being ‘irritated’ by Odsonne Edouard’s lack of celebration when he scores against ‘lesser’ teams. What the fuck does he expect? Does he want him to be like El Guffalo, who puts his knees at risk by sliding his fat carcass on top of them when he scores a goal against some diddy team? The reality is, though, that nobody really gets annoyed at a player’s celebrations, or lack of it. It’s the fact that they’ve scored at all that gets up opposition supporters’ noses; annoyance about celebrations is simply an excuse, a rationalisation. It shows Chowder Charlie for the soup-taking, sycophantic arsehole that he is.
Actually, I was impressed about one aspect of CC’s article in the Record, but it’s got nothing to do with football. Normally, Charlie comes across as being as thick as shit, which make it all the more remarkable that he used the word ‘uninterested’ when talking about Edouard. Most people would, incorrectly, use the word ‘disinterested’ in that context. I suspect, however, that Chowder Charlie meant to say ‘disinterested’ and got confused, hitting on the right word through sheer, dumb luck.
“Aye, well, nixt time, Ah’ll jist say thit ay’s no’ fuckin’ intrestit. Wull that saffisty ye?”
Meanwhile, Andrew Dallas did his father proud at the weekend with a little help from a linesman, who, I believe, was Tory Boy ‘Red Card! Red Card!’ Ross. The media, too, are determined that the ball didn’t cross the line for a St. Johnstone goal, though it’s notable that they refuse to show any pictures that would categorically prove the point. Amid the confusion and disbelief among the St. J players, Daniel Defoe performed a Kreosote Kenny special and went up and scored. A minute or two later, he scored again, this time from an offside position. It looks like the cheating is going to be ramped up to Warp Factor 12 this season.
“Honest mistakes, mate!”
It looks like The Peeppul are starting to worry about the amount of money that’s going to have to be handed over to Mike Ashley, if the increase in online bile is anything to go by. Aside from the usual comments about child abuse, they’re expressing amazement that anyone could see Ashley as any kind of hero. The truth is, though, that nobody does; the man’s a complete cunt. What the Huns fail to realise, however, is that Honest Dave is just as big a cunt. And when it comes to the Battle of the Cunts, any reasonable person wants to see King lose and Neo-Gers disappear. Besides, it’s not that long ago that Ashley was The Peeppul’s hero, ready to pump billions into Neo-Gers and take them to their ‘rightful place’. It’s not our fault that things didn’t turn out that way!
The Peeppul on Hun Media are unsure of how to react to the news about Thomas Cook. Quite a few of them signed up for a Europa League package with Thomas Cook Sport and they’re desperately talking about ‘engine-room subsidiaries’ and the like. Unfortunately, the real world doesn’t work like that, so they’re fucked. Even they can see how hypocritical it would be to moan about creditors not being paid. Give it time, though, and they’ll be greeting like hell. At least then they’ll know how the fucking face painter felt!
With the Supreme Court upholding the decision that proroguing Parliament was illegal, it means that Hur Maj is in the frame. Luckily, she’s German, so she was able to fall back on the Nuremberg defence that she was ‘just following orders’. Unfortunately, that didn’t work for the Nazis and it won’t work for her. It might soon be time to bite down on that cyanide capsule embedded in her tooth.
“Gott in Himmel!”
On the home front, my GP phoned me today to discuss that ‘Satisfactory’ result of my blood test. It turned out that when I phoned the last time, the result of my urine test hadn’t come back yet, so she had some news for me. Apparently, I’ve got a lot of microalbumins. My first thought was that this meant I was a Jedi and I was all set to go and collect my prescription lightsabre; but no. It turns out that it’s not a good thing and means that your kidneys aren’t working properly. It’s generally associated with diabetes. My blood results, it seems, showed that I’ve only got slight diabetes, which shouldn’t affect my kidneys at all. I’m a medical anomaly! Now I’ve got to make an appointment to discuss things and will probably need medication.
Obviously, I’m on the slippery slope toward being a geriatric. I’ll soon need to start wearing those casual-but-smart plasticky shoes, Terylene trousers, a jumper on top of a shirt and tie and a beige windcheater. I’ll also start smelling of Germolene and rely on morning glasses of Andrews Liver Salts to crush out a shite. Plenty to look forward to there!
As usual, Der Fuhrer showed how her mind works. After I informed her of what the doctor had said, I searched on the internet for maxialbumins. I couldn’t get peace to read any of it though, as she regaled me with the tale of the loaves she got this morning at Scotmid for 9p each. It certainly proves where her priorities lie!
“Awright, troops? Who’s runnin’ this fuckin’ country, the Prime Ministur ur a load-a fuckin’ judges? Ah mean, Hur Majjisty (God bless ur) shut doon Parlamint, so that should bae the end-y the matter, shouldn’t it? An’ ye cannae trust judges wan bit. Wan-y thum fined me £500 jist fur hivvin’ a pish in the street. Shay widnae even listen tae the fact thit Ah hud a weak bladder. The hale country’s gauin’ tae the fuckin’ dogs!”
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