Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RANTINGS: CELTIC @ THE PRESUMABLES
"Doctor Livingstone, I presume?"
"Naw, Tony Macaroni. Want some soggy chips wi' yer pasta?"
Excerpt from 'How Times have Changed in Blantyre'.
THE WALL - 5/10
Great save with his big clown shoes to stop a killer
second, before their...um, killer second for which he was
culpable, failing to come and collect a high bouncer and
got sucker-dinked by a big bleached dyke. His indecision
was also symbollic of the entire squad; they couldn't
make their minds up whether or not to actaully turn up
this morning and in the end got caught in metaphysical
no-man's land.
AJER - 6/10
The Techno Viking found himself in the invidious position
oftrying to drive on a malfunctioning midfield and keep
the back door shut while also being prompted to get up
the park as we tried to rally. He was all over the place, but
stayed in the fight until the end, unlike some.
JULLIEN CLARY - 7/10 MOTM
Up against a hulking angry lesbian version of Rutger Hauer
who ultimately had the last laugh. But I'll give the big mincer
this - he was in the thick of it for us, taking and giving it
out. That's the sort of committment we required all-round.
He was denied a penalty late on when a rather ugly bastard -
who probably carries rabies - cracked him across the back of
his neck with a forearm.
Jullien bore the frustrated demeanour of a winner denied,
something he needs to impose on his team-mates.
BOLIWOOD - 6/10
Ruby, Ruby, Ruby!.. Kaiser Chief-esque screams from the stands
as our Ruby Rhod battled down the left flank. By far from our
worst performer - plenty of candidates ahead of him.. - his
perpetual enthusiasm for getting forward created some
openings but the final ball/link-ups let us down.
BAUER- 5.5/10
Goldilocks with the arms of a howitzer - how we utilised his
prowess today, launching a number of throw-ins-cum-crosses
into their box and won fuck all of them. He got forward many
a time but couldn't find a dangerous pass/cross when it counted.
BROON - 5/10
Looked like the happiest man in Almondvale/Nutsville/Spaghetti
Shithole when we were down to ten -as if the scrap was made for
him. But he could not exert his influence on the game. There was
no response from his players and the influential Broon magic was
impotent. Only Griff may have benefitted from that.
CALMAC - 5/10
One of ours who temporarily looked on it after Corpus departed.
Seemed a bit fazed at times by the overgrown velcro he had to
pass the ball about on. And what we ultimately got was an aggregate
of his quietest performances - a lot of deep touches, pattern-passing,
but no game-changing guile that we so desperately required.
CORPUS - 0/10
Corpus, you idiot. did you not remember what yer Da told you
about temptation? Don't give Satan's wee imps like Gollum the
chance to nail a Tim. However, you did also give him the erection
of his life, which he's currently trying to get rid of up on Tesco's
roof with a sniper rifle.
ELSHAGYONLASSIE - 4/10
After a slow start - like Thursday - he was another who looked
like he might take over the game but was flattering to deceive.
By the time he'd shaken his lethargy and started to run at them,
ask some questions, we were a man and goal down. Still looks
like he needs more fitness work - if we could get his energy
channelled positively from the first whistle we might not find
ourselves in situations like this.
FORREST - 2/10
After a neat opening burst in tandem with Eddy, his game went
by in a flash. And we never saw any flashes of Jamesy at all (Ladies...)
And after they flashed in the opener, he was off in a flash. To sum
up: flashless.
FRENCH EDDY - 5/10
After a hefty tackle from Livingston battle-giant, his face told the
story of the day - not really wanting to be there. Heroic moments
slipped from his grasp as the keeper denied him or space was
closed down or the ball cleared in the goalmouth by dogged
defending. It wasn't running his way. Left at full-time muttering
the poetic French quip for such a day, "Fuck thees."
SUBS:
SON OF A GUN - 5/10
On he came and battled and blazed but we didn't provide anywhere
near the quality of service a partnership with Eddy may have benefitted
from, thanks to our malfunctioning wings.
SAM JACKSON - 5/10
Throw on a Muthufucka at the point those Muthufuckas score again?!
Mu-thu-fucka! So any muthufuckin' influence this Muthufucka may have
brought to the muthufuckin' shindig was a hope against muthufuckin'
hope as them Muthufuckas closed up a dam muthufuckin' yellow wall
against any righteous muthufuckin retribution.
HAYES - 4/10
Honorary Johnny appearance, at the site of his last meeting with
Dr.Livingston, ten years before he fought in the Zulu war. For the
Zulus. Reports described Johnny as a 'stand-out'. Probably literally.
But our time-hopping warrior stood out today only for a comedy
shank out the pitch late on as he endeavoured to sum the entire
day's play up in a mime.
LENNONY - 5/10
Last time he faced this scrapping, fighting, negative yellow mess
we stuttered to a zip-zip tie, as they say across the flat earth
disc, and we thought that would be today's worst-case scenario.
Yet he set out the same team as Thursday bar big Hat Attack and
got... Nothing.
Threw in Bayo to go two up front chasing the match, again got...
Nothing.
You could argue this was a result in spite of the manager's efforts,
but it's four points dropped in two away games and he's not managed
to draw the perfromances form his players to maintain a blistering
start to the season.
Does the buck stop with him for this lapse? You don't get more than
two errant games leeway in the Celtic hotseat. From the high of his
near-perfect Europa night when every face turned his way had a happy
grin, to the worried frowns he'll encounter for the next fortnight;
testing times.
OVERALL - 3/10
So yet again our thoroughbreds are required to produce top-quality
footwork on a surface made from Jordan's old tits.
Well, we set about it with the enthusiasm of a former Rangers captain
at a gloryhole that's only got an adult female on the other side.
And this is how it transpired - a grim and pathetic collective
effort that surrendered three precious points to a team of faceless
journeymen who battled for their lives, and the little taste of glory
they deservedly got.
Of course Livingston were going to bully, batter and kick their way
to anything they could get. Of course we were going to take the ball
off them and play rings around them, pick them off and ease home
comfortably mimicking that heady triumphant Thursday. Erm...
Exactly what the fuck was that? Some kind of temporal shift? A glitch
in the Matrix?
I thought we'd seen the back of these days when everyone's shite, can't
kick their own arses, get dragged down tho the opposition's level and
blow points that could have been won by half-time if we'd bothered
to turn up.
Which was the problem - never gave ourselves the chance to reach any
sort of level we've been at this season. Ambled about the park waiting
for the next man to do something. A shambolic collective fail which was
on the cards before Corpus exemplified the lazy start with his clumsy
dismissal.
And yet another lesson for this squad - give sleekit MIBs the opportunity
this season, you'll be cursed with more officiating like today; breaking
up play with innocuous little fouls, allowing Celtic players to be smashed
to the brink of the rules, refusing to card opponents for persistent and
dangerous challenges. And when he did throw the cards around, made
sure they were evenly split, despite our players being the victims.
Gollum's a fucking wee anti-Celtic horror and he knows it, and our distinct
lack of any verve let him live out a wet dream. So now we head into an
international break with the initiative gone, a near-splendid opening chapter
to the season sullied by our own bewildering failure to get the job completed
in a professional manner.
History doesn't disappear in a calamatous explosion - 'Aye it does, Sandman,
ask the dinosaurs!' - no, football history slips away from you on days like these;
too many of them and you'll lift your head to the future one day to find the
NINE gone over a foreboding dark horizon.
Go Away Now
Sandman, pissed.
"Doctor Livingstone, I presume?"
"Naw, Tony Macaroni. Want some soggy chips wi' yer pasta?"
Excerpt from 'How Times have Changed in Blantyre'.
THE WALL - 5/10
Great save with his big clown shoes to stop a killer
second, before their...um, killer second for which he was
culpable, failing to come and collect a high bouncer and
got sucker-dinked by a big bleached dyke. His indecision
was also symbollic of the entire squad; they couldn't
make their minds up whether or not to actaully turn up
this morning and in the end got caught in metaphysical
no-man's land.
AJER - 6/10
The Techno Viking found himself in the invidious position
oftrying to drive on a malfunctioning midfield and keep
the back door shut while also being prompted to get up
the park as we tried to rally. He was all over the place, but
stayed in the fight until the end, unlike some.
JULLIEN CLARY - 7/10 MOTM
Up against a hulking angry lesbian version of Rutger Hauer
who ultimately had the last laugh. But I'll give the big mincer
this - he was in the thick of it for us, taking and giving it
out. That's the sort of committment we required all-round.
He was denied a penalty late on when a rather ugly bastard -
who probably carries rabies - cracked him across the back of
his neck with a forearm.
Jullien bore the frustrated demeanour of a winner denied,
something he needs to impose on his team-mates.
BOLIWOOD - 6/10
Ruby, Ruby, Ruby!.. Kaiser Chief-esque screams from the stands
as our Ruby Rhod battled down the left flank. By far from our
worst performer - plenty of candidates ahead of him.. - his
perpetual enthusiasm for getting forward created some
openings but the final ball/link-ups let us down.
BAUER- 5.5/10
Goldilocks with the arms of a howitzer - how we utilised his
prowess today, launching a number of throw-ins-cum-crosses
into their box and won fuck all of them. He got forward many
a time but couldn't find a dangerous pass/cross when it counted.
BROON - 5/10
Looked like the happiest man in Almondvale/Nutsville/Spaghetti
Shithole when we were down to ten -as if the scrap was made for
him. But he could not exert his influence on the game. There was
no response from his players and the influential Broon magic was
impotent. Only Griff may have benefitted from that.
CALMAC - 5/10
One of ours who temporarily looked on it after Corpus departed.
Seemed a bit fazed at times by the overgrown velcro he had to
pass the ball about on. And what we ultimately got was an aggregate
of his quietest performances - a lot of deep touches, pattern-passing,
but no game-changing guile that we so desperately required.
CORPUS - 0/10
Corpus, you idiot. did you not remember what yer Da told you
about temptation? Don't give Satan's wee imps like Gollum the
chance to nail a Tim. However, you did also give him the erection
of his life, which he's currently trying to get rid of up on Tesco's
roof with a sniper rifle.
ELSHAGYONLASSIE - 4/10
After a slow start - like Thursday - he was another who looked
like he might take over the game but was flattering to deceive.
By the time he'd shaken his lethargy and started to run at them,
ask some questions, we were a man and goal down. Still looks
like he needs more fitness work - if we could get his energy
channelled positively from the first whistle we might not find
ourselves in situations like this.
FORREST - 2/10
After a neat opening burst in tandem with Eddy, his game went
by in a flash. And we never saw any flashes of Jamesy at all (Ladies...)
And after they flashed in the opener, he was off in a flash. To sum
up: flashless.
FRENCH EDDY - 5/10
After a hefty tackle from Livingston battle-giant, his face told the
story of the day - not really wanting to be there. Heroic moments
slipped from his grasp as the keeper denied him or space was
closed down or the ball cleared in the goalmouth by dogged
defending. It wasn't running his way. Left at full-time muttering
the poetic French quip for such a day, "Fuck thees."
SUBS:
SON OF A GUN - 5/10
On he came and battled and blazed but we didn't provide anywhere
near the quality of service a partnership with Eddy may have benefitted
from, thanks to our malfunctioning wings.
SAM JACKSON - 5/10
Throw on a Muthufucka at the point those Muthufuckas score again?!
Mu-thu-fucka! So any muthufuckin' influence this Muthufucka may have
brought to the muthufuckin' shindig was a hope against muthufuckin'
hope as them Muthufuckas closed up a dam muthufuckin' yellow wall
against any righteous muthufuckin retribution.
HAYES - 4/10
Honorary Johnny appearance, at the site of his last meeting with
Dr.Livingston, ten years before he fought in the Zulu war. For the
Zulus. Reports described Johnny as a 'stand-out'. Probably literally.
But our time-hopping warrior stood out today only for a comedy
shank out the pitch late on as he endeavoured to sum the entire
day's play up in a mime.
LENNONY - 5/10
Last time he faced this scrapping, fighting, negative yellow mess
we stuttered to a zip-zip tie, as they say across the flat earth
disc, and we thought that would be today's worst-case scenario.
Yet he set out the same team as Thursday bar big Hat Attack and
got... Nothing.
Threw in Bayo to go two up front chasing the match, again got...
Nothing.
You could argue this was a result in spite of the manager's efforts,
but it's four points dropped in two away games and he's not managed
to draw the perfromances form his players to maintain a blistering
start to the season.
Does the buck stop with him for this lapse? You don't get more than
two errant games leeway in the Celtic hotseat. From the high of his
near-perfect Europa night when every face turned his way had a happy
grin, to the worried frowns he'll encounter for the next fortnight;
testing times.
OVERALL - 3/10
So yet again our thoroughbreds are required to produce top-quality
footwork on a surface made from Jordan's old tits.
Well, we set about it with the enthusiasm of a former Rangers captain
at a gloryhole that's only got an adult female on the other side.
And this is how it transpired - a grim and pathetic collective
effort that surrendered three precious points to a team of faceless
journeymen who battled for their lives, and the little taste of glory
they deservedly got.
Of course Livingston were going to bully, batter and kick their way
to anything they could get. Of course we were going to take the ball
off them and play rings around them, pick them off and ease home
comfortably mimicking that heady triumphant Thursday. Erm...
Exactly what the fuck was that? Some kind of temporal shift? A glitch
in the Matrix?
I thought we'd seen the back of these days when everyone's shite, can't
kick their own arses, get dragged down tho the opposition's level and
blow points that could have been won by half-time if we'd bothered
to turn up.
Which was the problem - never gave ourselves the chance to reach any
sort of level we've been at this season. Ambled about the park waiting
for the next man to do something. A shambolic collective fail which was
on the cards before Corpus exemplified the lazy start with his clumsy
dismissal.
And yet another lesson for this squad - give sleekit MIBs the opportunity
this season, you'll be cursed with more officiating like today; breaking
up play with innocuous little fouls, allowing Celtic players to be smashed
to the brink of the rules, refusing to card opponents for persistent and
dangerous challenges. And when he did throw the cards around, made
sure they were evenly split, despite our players being the victims.
Gollum's a fucking wee anti-Celtic horror and he knows it, and our distinct
lack of any verve let him live out a wet dream. So now we head into an
international break with the initiative gone, a near-splendid opening chapter
to the season sullied by our own bewildering failure to get the job completed
in a professional manner.
History doesn't disappear in a calamatous explosion - 'Aye it does, Sandman,
ask the dinosaurs!' - no, football history slips away from you on days like these;
too many of them and you'll lift your head to the future one day to find the
NINE gone over a foreboding dark horizon.
Go Away Now
Sandman, pissed.
