SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RANTINGS: CELTIC v FIFE GOLF CLUB, 'THE PARS'.

Sandman

Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RANTINGS: CELTIC v FIFE GOLF CLUB, 'THE PARS'.


2-1 A.E.T.P (Abysmal Extra-Terrestrial Pish).


"Been listening to the Beatles - I Wanna Hold Yer Hand, and the
Gerogia Satellites - Keep Yer Hands Tae Yerself, and the other belter
by Reef - Place Yer Hands... Aye, weird music choice on me player this
week, canny understand it..."

Broon.


"People often question of me, 'Dark Lord, does your position as all-powerful
Oligarch Of The Tim Empire make you arrogant, conceited, soulless and
ambivalent to the simple affordable wishes of the everyday Celtic supporter?'
And I say to them, 'Silence, peasants, kneel, then fetch me my golden cock-cage.
For it is time for the quickening and I must prepare the balls of blue.' "

Pistol Pete.


And If I must...


GORDON - 6/10

The Cat returned. Spent an afternoon licking his paws, sold down the river by his
defence and scowling like a mad bastard as he retrieved the ball from the net;
found himself in the wrong sketch, but no fault of his. Plucked a few dangerous
crosses out the air; no worries about him taking the gloves back. In fact, let him
pick the defence.


HAT ATTACK - 6/10

Competent then shaky. Comepetent then shaky. No idea why the anxiety virus
found its way to this big hunk of cool but perhaps because he is new he thought
he'd better conform with the idiots around him.


JULLIEN CLARY - 5/10

Unconvincing is a word used far too often and far too loosely. As in, "I found
condemnation of Hitler's pogrom against the Jewish people unconvincing -
he only murdered 6 million..."
Some seventy years later we have, "I find criticism of big Jullien Clary
unconvincing - he only cost seven million..."
Well, he's as convincing as a concentration camp Capo - hello, Ryan Kent -
asking you to help test their new central heating. And why am I reverting to
a version of Godwin's law to summarise our biggest summer signing? Because
some guy sitting near me, spitting feathers, called him a big Nazi-collaborator
when he missed a real sweet chance late on. After nearly selling the jerseys
early in the first-half, I guess his generally poor input was too much for
some of the resistance movement.



AJER - 6/10

Is he okay? That's about all I care to know after the big Praetorian crashed
to the deck holding his collar-bone/shoulder region in a nothing game against
part-time hoodlums. More vital to us than a longship to the Lothbroks, we need
him fit and able. Today, did his best to raise spirits and levels but his future
captaincy will perhaps require more threatening influence.


BITTON - 5.5/10

Nir or far, he's always around looking to play a bit of football. Filled in
competently in the Broon role, sadly struggled to find anybody willing to
link or even tikki-takki with him.


MIKEY J - 5/10

Goalscoring 80s superhero. Yet ineffectual as Bill or Ted in the grand scheme
of things as he struggled to find the right jink or flick that would cause them
damage. Ultimately, he slung in a cross that decieved their goal-tending hipster
poof ; apologies - 'metrosexual sporting icon', and scored what we reckoned was
the winner (oh no it wasn't...).
Celebrated it with the gusto of Boy George at a Bananarama pool party. This was
a game for him to make his mark; he didn't.


CLAMAC - 5/10

Bludgeoned into Rodgers-esque nightmare land on Tuesday by brutal tactical
tomfuckery, re-instated as midfield ponce/captain today... Failed to ram home
his case for being the gyronomic metronomical axis upon which all things Celtic
rotate. Afflicted by the general malaise around him.


CORPUS CHRISTIE - 4/10

Son of Man or Son of White Van Man? Posh Ryan, our most dynamic presence,
showed early on what kind of afternoon the Hoops had in store by spazzing easy
passes all over the place and running anywhere but into space. He was off-key,
but we'll take this one aberration in hope of future tuned-in devastation.


BOLIWOOD - 5/10

Maligned, benched, back in. But no reason to get in a tizzy about this bhoy - he played
his role, supported well, offered much but let himself down on the final ball. At least
we had a left-back playing left-back. He's never getting tested defensively in games
like this, so move on with any grief towards him.



GRIFF - 2/10

Shagging? No. Gambling? No. Boozing? No. So where was he? Did he boycott with
half the Green Brigade? Did anybody see his distinctive heid around the stadium environs?
ThoughtI saw him skelp a carbon-copy Motherwell free-kick lamely wide but beyond that
there was no spark - or Sparky - to win the day.


FRENCH EDDY - 6.5/10 MOTM

Sacre bleu, mon tae fook. In tandem with Griff? Hand-rubbing prospect. Reality - existential
ennui. Dropping off, charging-up, but failing to penetrate. Sounds like many a romantic
encounter...
Nothing doing for Eddy although his isolation was not totally in vain as he brought
a great close stop out of the keeper and did well enough to create a little space in that
defensive tangle as thick as a Hun burd's front-bototm beard. His movement was constant,
his commitment more than others and his general work tireless.


SUBS:


SAM JACKSON - 5/10

Thrown on like some expendable Muthufucka to try and save the muthufuckin day.
Shee-it! An' even it bein' a muthufuckin muthufuck-up of an afternoon, this muthufucka
got to muthufuckin biz... - ah say, BIZ!-ness - like a muthufuckin PRO, baby.
Brought some life to the muthufuckin game if not quite the muthufuckin edge - skyed
a copule of muthufuckas from long-range and almost got sucked in like a muthufucka
as the universe threatened to play fuck-you-muthufucka! with his ass. But a Muthufucka
got to keep his muthufuckin cool on the heavy days an' this Muthufucka got a foothold
in the middle to regiansome muthufuckin control of a muthufucka slidin to mu-thu-fuckin
disaster.



MORGAN FREEMAN JR. - N/A

Nope. Streaming services only. Chance at lead role slipping fast.



FORREST - 6/10

In a flash! - Ladies... - the Flying Flasher Of Old Prestwick Town saves the day. Thank
Ghod for Jamesy's trickery and eye for a deflection. When in doubt, get it out, is the
wee man's motto and his distraction worked, creating enough space to get the shot
off and score the winenr with barely enough time left to zip up his flies (Special Jamesy
front-zipper Celtic shorts available in the superstore for Halloween).



LENNONY - 5/10

Oh dear. But... OH? Dear? Was it a fault of his, this debacle of a performance? Was it an
indication of player disenchantment? Was it "HIS!" fault? (© screaming internet drama
queens).
Tuesday he made major tactical mistakes. Today he gave the fans what many have been
asking for - two dynamic strikers up front, and basically a strong first-team selection.
It did not work.

The team did not perform as strongly as they have done - even in that second-half against
The Cludigie we saw a blistering Celtic side on the verge of sweeping them away until Captain
Muppet channelled Michael Jordan. Today there was but flatness. We were a beautiful woman
with no chest at a best tetas bonanza. The Fifers smacked us about the face with their big fako
bagos and we almost fainted.

Now, how much of this paucity of boulder-holster-filling action is down to the manager and
how much do the players need a wonder-bra to compete? The performance was dull and abject,
with litlte dynamic tempo, BUT that's not a real worry - we know they're far, far better than
today; the only concern to take from an afternoon of mogadom is just how much that laboured
display can be attributed to lack of synchronicity between playing staff and management?
Maybe none. Maybe just a blip. But the flip side of that coin is something we don't readily
want to address anytime soon, or later. Hopefully never.

Don't let personal squabbles or prejudice bite, Lennony, or dictate team selection.
Stay the boss, BE the boss. A balanced, pragmatic one. Or we all lose.



OVERALL - 4/10

LOL. Yeez ragin', aye? A bucket of purest pish, delivered on a sliver platter by a loose
cadre of highly-paid young men who couldn't really be arsed competing with the upstarts
before them, yet did enough to eventually get the listing ship Celtic over the line.

So who do we blame? Well, personally, I start with YOU for being bored enough to read
this cataloging of crap. Furthermore, the support - snow-off-a-dyke (© Gerry Mcnee)
gloryhunters not prepared to sit through only 120 painful minutes of turgid lacklustre product
served up by people who earn more in a week or month than they coin-in annually.
Thirdly, YOU again if you read the previous sentence and developed a nascent sense of outrage,
not understanding sarcasm.

Ultimately, nobody is to blame for anything because we WON. Whether or not we had beaten
The Cludgie on Tuesday, today was always going to be an irritating banana skin. I'd give credit
to Dunfermline for a battling, disciplined performance, playing on the edge of their wits and riding
their luck like all cup heroes do in the hope of nicking a finely-worked goal when their crystal-cut
chance presented itself...
But I won't. Because they wear the jerseys of a generation of players before them who lay down
to the Huns in 2003 like cheap Thai hookers to fat American sex tourists and through their insipid
corruption denied the finest Celtic team in a lifetime a rightful title.
And as for their chairman - that cunt still has the stitches in his colon from that May afternoon in
the Blue Room at Snake Mountain and will spend eternity licking Satans gonads. So, no, I'm not
being benevolent to valiant losers; Or bitter. Get the haycart back to Middle Earth and shut the
fuck up, Dunfermline.

The QUADROPHENIA TREBLE is STILL on, Huns, STILL on.

C.O.Y.B.I.G

Go away now.


Sandman, onto the vino and watching Vikings
 
cheers Sandman!

I had to do a double take and was relieved to see that it was his PAWS that Gordon was licking

Reminds me of the guy in my local one night with this lovely big Alsation He was standing at the bar and the dog was lying at his feet licking it's baws

The wee fella beside him said 'I wish tae fuck I could manage to do that'

The guy replied 'Gie him a biscuit and he might let you'

HH?
 
I had to do a double take and was relieved to see that it was his PAWS that Gordon was licking

Reminds me of the guy in my local one night with this lovely big Alsation He was standing at the bar and the dog was lying at his feet licking it's baws

The wee fella beside him said 'I wish tae fuck I could manage to do that'

The guy replied 'Gie him a biscuit and he might let you'

.HH?
When 4 or the 6 big mutts I have running around my place are GSD.
For half a biscuit they can be bought, bit unerving though when they stare into your eyes as you go down on them..... So I am told
Big, powerful, strong, easily trained and as soft as a marshmallow they bond with.
 

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