Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC @ IKEA HQ
"Meatballs. Meatballs fur brekkie, fur lunch, meatballs
fur dinner... Big Kris says, check 'em oot Griff, they're
right tasty, but nae way am Ah eatin some poor geezers'
testicles".
Leigh Griffiths, interview in Stockhom MacDonalds.
"Welcome, Celtic supporters, to home of AIK Stockholm, the Friends Arena
- named after our favourite 90s TV Show. Oh how we laughed at those
quirky New York flatmates' zany antics. And as we are Swedish and liberal
and also comical oversexed stereotypes we also named ends of the ground
after Monica and Rachael - because they had the best racks..."
IKEA fc Stadium Tour guide.
THE CAT - 7/10
Despite making way for the prodigal giant at the weekend, his safe hands
were match-sharp. Under pressure, didn't drop a thing as they rained in
crosses all first-half.
Combined brilliance with Bitton to thwart a certainty early second-half with
striker bearing down on him after Ralston had passed-out at a shy and big
JC been passed-by like a ranting jakey at a bus-stop.
JULLIEN CLARY - 6.5/10
With wee dug Fanny tucked in his travel bag, he rode his motorbike and
sidecar all the way up the fjords (oo-er). So casual he reminds me of a
particularly slack ex-girlfriend, though at least she'd need a vodka and
coke before she gave it away easy.
Big Julien is either so metaphysically alert his conscious self cannot keep
up, or he genuinely is a big lackadasical chancer who's an accident waiting
to happen.
Did win the vast majority of his ariel duels, yet is suspect when players run
at him or track away behind him. And then he turns late goalscorer, launching
in an exocet from 6 inches...
It may take many games to get used to his Van Dijk-on-mogadon approach,
to this new-found sense of secure insecurity. Hopefully before my teeth grind
to stumps.
BITTON - 6.5/10
Ah, big Nir. you may think Jullien does wandering-casual but the lanky
Israelite does not-one-fuck-given casual beautifully. After taking a
legendary booking for time-wasting on the half hour mark, like a
stoner clock-watching at group therapy, he refused to let AIk spoil his
Swedish trip and threw in a couple of oh-fuck-it-I-may-as-well superb
last-ditch challenges to deny them.
Team affliction of sloppy passing tweaked him ocassionally but
another creditable performance playing out of position versus handy
opposition.
AJER - N/A
Hobbled off on 13th minute in protest at the Swedes ransacking
his ancestors' settlements in the 13th Century. Could be heard
hollering about God of mischief Loki taking their mothers 'up the
Asgard' or something as he went down the tunnel.
BOLIWOOD - 6.5/10
Penalty? Off you jolly well fuck. Ridiculous. Cheat invokes
a tangle and the antsy twerp of a ref points at the spot,
prompting hair-trigger confused Tims to go on anti-Boli
rants.
A solid performer despite being exposed to double-
teaming down that flank. Rarely did they get in behind
him, choosing instead in their frustration to switch it.
The Manga hair may well become the permanent signature
of Boli and not the absent 30k+ a week star who can't even
make the bench.
BROON - 7/10
A slow, predictable burden according to those who don't
understand soccerball or the art of positional play, in which
Captain B excels; particularly tonight when his sheer intuitive
presence shut down their midfield space and forced quality
playmakers like Larsson (Blessed be thy name) to opt wide.
Combative and tough, he led the way in stifling every promising
build-up.
CALMAC - 6/10
Another quiet outing but it was an away day in Europe so his
guile became grit and in tandem with Broon he forged a useful
barrier to their ambitions. Not shy, Calmac took a yellow with
his captain as IKEA's physicality was thwarted. Soon, our metronome
will open things up and punish the unworthy; Sunday, I'm hoping.
CORPUS CHRISTIE - 6/10
'JINGS!' swore posh young Ryan as a frightful northerner tried to
dig him a new eye socket. But he recovered after the butler ran on
with some of Matron's rejuvenating elixer and the Son Of Man once
again wore the opposition into gnashing ire with his perpetual motion.
Tremendous strike nearly got him a worldy. not quite on it. Maybe a
day in the very near future? Like on an imminent weekend...
FORREST - 8/10 MOTM
Ah, Sweden. Where a man hanging freely is but a past-time, not a crime.
What perfect environs for our dazzling Flying Flasher Of Old Prestwick
Town to show his appreciation. What devastating impact he brought.
And not just to the bars and clubs last night...
Tonight he tucked away his weapon of choice and furnished himself with
his choice weapons - those lighting boots. Brilliant link-up, step-inside and
finish for the first, then terrorized all game until teeing up young Freeman
late on. All summer Jamesy's been coiling up like a rattlesnake and he's
about to bite, big-time. Get yer bets on.
MIKEY J - 6.5
Wunderkind hit-and-miss first-half, like the 80s indie scene.
But his New Romantic ideals would not be denied and wth Spandau's
'Gold' ringing in his ears reached for nostalgia far beyond his cultural
coiffure as he tapped the 60s and reprised a Jinky dribble which left
their keeper so dizzy he slapped it into his own net while rasing a glove
to his overwhelmed, oversized foreheid.
Mikey is growing into his role, maturing towards teamsheet regularity.
The hurdle looms large in front of him this weekend- it took Depeche
Mode about three albums to crack it big so will our synthpop sensation
be our own Hun 'Violator' this weekend? (see what I did there,
fans of credible albums from an era of general glammed-up dross?).
FRENCH EDDY - 7.5/10
Mon Dieu! Leading the line like a total enigmatic hooped boss,
this mercurial monsieur was abandoned by fate and a manager
whom I can only presume was sleeping at the wheel (oh, the
GB-banner irony).
Ran them an utter dance, seeming to now revel in a lone-striker
role he struggled with last season. Nearly scored himself, genius
dink to get Jamesy in for the opener. The image of him laid out
on the turf will have gladdened many a Stygian black Hun heart.
Why was he still on the pitch after the hour mark? A swashbuckling
performance that deserved an early rest.
SUBS:
MORGAN FREEMAN JR. - 6/10
Manager's pet finally manages to stake a claim for inclusion
in the squad ahead of former hunter-killer hero turned gardening-leave
mystery, Sincy.
With his dad's dulcet tones ringing in his ears, 'A man must learn to
use his head over his fists, Andy,' from the Shawshank Redemption,
young Lewis planked in his first hooped hit with his nut. Contribution
one! Will there be more?
RALSTON - 5.5/10
Nnnnot Ggggrrreat, Tony the Tiger. Another big chance looks like it
has slipped him by - this time a near full 90 replacing the historically-protesting
Viking. He huffed and puffed, played with his head down too much.
Was in a coma at the start of the second-half when he got caught napping.
Never looked comfortable. Because he can't quite make the step-up/ever will?
Or because he senses his days are numbered after we signed the guy who makes
men's rechargeable cordless shavers?
SON OF A GUN - 6.5/10
Well, on comes the Black Mamba to see out some time...
Or DOES he? - firstly, pokes one of their players in the gut as he trots
onto the pitch past him to take up position; cue much hilarity and an
inkling that this former write-off might be a person of interest indeed.
Then uses nous to win a foul in his own six-yard box as they looked
dangerous, THEN he snaps a strike out of his feet with little backlift
that elicits a fine save from their moon-heided goaltender.
This one needs some watching.
LENNONY - 6.5/10
So he gambled and set us up like it was an SPL side away; left a Muthufucka
on the bench who I thought would be a cert to start. Worked not totally to
counter-strike plan, but with flair and luck his dice-roll came off; The flipside
of the Cluj coin.
Rocky moments but Lennony MUST take credit for 4 goals at a venue tricky
enough to be not one on anybody's qualifier wish-list.; Got us into
the groups, remit achieved after CL disaster.
But at what cost? Eddy limping off with the Nasty-Nasties awaiting
us on Sunday. Why on earth was our golden gun still on the park with the tie
won and having run himself into the 4G?
Nagging doubts that Lennony's afflicted by a lack of clarity when idiots like me
can slur through my fifth pint about Griffiths humping some Scandinavian
blonde in a hospitality box when he should have been running around their
back four at the relief of our French lightning-in-a-bottle. Frustrating,
angst-inducing end to a fine win.
OVERALL - 6.5/10
So the Bhoys rock up to Stockholm to stock-up on porn (that's why they call
it 'Stock'-holm) for the winter and find themselves challenged to a game of
soccer by some fiesty locals.
Out to AEK last year, this season we faced a less popular middle vowel in AIK.
Would another team conceived of alphabetty spaghetti jinx us again?
4 goals, you say? Well, nice... though we looked sloppy and at times,
gifted the ball away criminally. A better side may have punished us severely.
However, we survived, mainly as they had no answer to our flair when we got
at them. To the Bhoys credit we did not wilt. Retaining decent possession was
a problem, but when we did strike it was timeous and crippling to their hopes.
We matched them for competitiveness and overcame their brutal doggedness.
We won and we go on to some moderately exciting times, with any luck.
So we'll take it, this Euro League or UEFA cup or whatever they fucking call it now.
We'll take their group stages with a sigh and some optimism and quickly dismiss
what might have been like a knock-back from the hot one at the disco as we jump
in the taxi with a sure thing. (see what I did there, fans of non-specific gender
indentification equality?).
Go Away Now.
Sandman, on it til Sunday night.
"Meatballs. Meatballs fur brekkie, fur lunch, meatballs
fur dinner... Big Kris says, check 'em oot Griff, they're
right tasty, but nae way am Ah eatin some poor geezers'
testicles".
Leigh Griffiths, interview in Stockhom MacDonalds.
"Welcome, Celtic supporters, to home of AIK Stockholm, the Friends Arena
- named after our favourite 90s TV Show. Oh how we laughed at those
quirky New York flatmates' zany antics. And as we are Swedish and liberal
and also comical oversexed stereotypes we also named ends of the ground
after Monica and Rachael - because they had the best racks..."
IKEA fc Stadium Tour guide.
THE CAT - 7/10
Despite making way for the prodigal giant at the weekend, his safe hands
were match-sharp. Under pressure, didn't drop a thing as they rained in
crosses all first-half.
Combined brilliance with Bitton to thwart a certainty early second-half with
striker bearing down on him after Ralston had passed-out at a shy and big
JC been passed-by like a ranting jakey at a bus-stop.
JULLIEN CLARY - 6.5/10
With wee dug Fanny tucked in his travel bag, he rode his motorbike and
sidecar all the way up the fjords (oo-er). So casual he reminds me of a
particularly slack ex-girlfriend, though at least she'd need a vodka and
coke before she gave it away easy.
Big Julien is either so metaphysically alert his conscious self cannot keep
up, or he genuinely is a big lackadasical chancer who's an accident waiting
to happen.
Did win the vast majority of his ariel duels, yet is suspect when players run
at him or track away behind him. And then he turns late goalscorer, launching
in an exocet from 6 inches...
It may take many games to get used to his Van Dijk-on-mogadon approach,
to this new-found sense of secure insecurity. Hopefully before my teeth grind
to stumps.
BITTON - 6.5/10
Ah, big Nir. you may think Jullien does wandering-casual but the lanky
Israelite does not-one-fuck-given casual beautifully. After taking a
legendary booking for time-wasting on the half hour mark, like a
stoner clock-watching at group therapy, he refused to let AIk spoil his
Swedish trip and threw in a couple of oh-fuck-it-I-may-as-well superb
last-ditch challenges to deny them.
Team affliction of sloppy passing tweaked him ocassionally but
another creditable performance playing out of position versus handy
opposition.
AJER - N/A
Hobbled off on 13th minute in protest at the Swedes ransacking
his ancestors' settlements in the 13th Century. Could be heard
hollering about God of mischief Loki taking their mothers 'up the
Asgard' or something as he went down the tunnel.
BOLIWOOD - 6.5/10
Penalty? Off you jolly well fuck. Ridiculous. Cheat invokes
a tangle and the antsy twerp of a ref points at the spot,
prompting hair-trigger confused Tims to go on anti-Boli
rants.
A solid performer despite being exposed to double-
teaming down that flank. Rarely did they get in behind
him, choosing instead in their frustration to switch it.
The Manga hair may well become the permanent signature
of Boli and not the absent 30k+ a week star who can't even
make the bench.
BROON - 7/10
A slow, predictable burden according to those who don't
understand soccerball or the art of positional play, in which
Captain B excels; particularly tonight when his sheer intuitive
presence shut down their midfield space and forced quality
playmakers like Larsson (Blessed be thy name) to opt wide.
Combative and tough, he led the way in stifling every promising
build-up.
CALMAC - 6/10
Another quiet outing but it was an away day in Europe so his
guile became grit and in tandem with Broon he forged a useful
barrier to their ambitions. Not shy, Calmac took a yellow with
his captain as IKEA's physicality was thwarted. Soon, our metronome
will open things up and punish the unworthy; Sunday, I'm hoping.
CORPUS CHRISTIE - 6/10
'JINGS!' swore posh young Ryan as a frightful northerner tried to
dig him a new eye socket. But he recovered after the butler ran on
with some of Matron's rejuvenating elixer and the Son Of Man once
again wore the opposition into gnashing ire with his perpetual motion.
Tremendous strike nearly got him a worldy. not quite on it. Maybe a
day in the very near future? Like on an imminent weekend...
FORREST - 8/10 MOTM
Ah, Sweden. Where a man hanging freely is but a past-time, not a crime.
What perfect environs for our dazzling Flying Flasher Of Old Prestwick
Town to show his appreciation. What devastating impact he brought.
And not just to the bars and clubs last night...
Tonight he tucked away his weapon of choice and furnished himself with
his choice weapons - those lighting boots. Brilliant link-up, step-inside and
finish for the first, then terrorized all game until teeing up young Freeman
late on. All summer Jamesy's been coiling up like a rattlesnake and he's
about to bite, big-time. Get yer bets on.
MIKEY J - 6.5
Wunderkind hit-and-miss first-half, like the 80s indie scene.
But his New Romantic ideals would not be denied and wth Spandau's
'Gold' ringing in his ears reached for nostalgia far beyond his cultural
coiffure as he tapped the 60s and reprised a Jinky dribble which left
their keeper so dizzy he slapped it into his own net while rasing a glove
to his overwhelmed, oversized foreheid.
Mikey is growing into his role, maturing towards teamsheet regularity.
The hurdle looms large in front of him this weekend- it took Depeche
Mode about three albums to crack it big so will our synthpop sensation
be our own Hun 'Violator' this weekend? (see what I did there,
fans of credible albums from an era of general glammed-up dross?).
FRENCH EDDY - 7.5/10
Mon Dieu! Leading the line like a total enigmatic hooped boss,
this mercurial monsieur was abandoned by fate and a manager
whom I can only presume was sleeping at the wheel (oh, the
GB-banner irony).
Ran them an utter dance, seeming to now revel in a lone-striker
role he struggled with last season. Nearly scored himself, genius
dink to get Jamesy in for the opener. The image of him laid out
on the turf will have gladdened many a Stygian black Hun heart.
Why was he still on the pitch after the hour mark? A swashbuckling
performance that deserved an early rest.
SUBS:
MORGAN FREEMAN JR. - 6/10
Manager's pet finally manages to stake a claim for inclusion
in the squad ahead of former hunter-killer hero turned gardening-leave
mystery, Sincy.
With his dad's dulcet tones ringing in his ears, 'A man must learn to
use his head over his fists, Andy,' from the Shawshank Redemption,
young Lewis planked in his first hooped hit with his nut. Contribution
one! Will there be more?
RALSTON - 5.5/10
Nnnnot Ggggrrreat, Tony the Tiger. Another big chance looks like it
has slipped him by - this time a near full 90 replacing the historically-protesting
Viking. He huffed and puffed, played with his head down too much.
Was in a coma at the start of the second-half when he got caught napping.
Never looked comfortable. Because he can't quite make the step-up/ever will?
Or because he senses his days are numbered after we signed the guy who makes
men's rechargeable cordless shavers?
SON OF A GUN - 6.5/10
Well, on comes the Black Mamba to see out some time...
Or DOES he? - firstly, pokes one of their players in the gut as he trots
onto the pitch past him to take up position; cue much hilarity and an
inkling that this former write-off might be a person of interest indeed.
Then uses nous to win a foul in his own six-yard box as they looked
dangerous, THEN he snaps a strike out of his feet with little backlift
that elicits a fine save from their moon-heided goaltender.
This one needs some watching.
LENNONY - 6.5/10
So he gambled and set us up like it was an SPL side away; left a Muthufucka
on the bench who I thought would be a cert to start. Worked not totally to
counter-strike plan, but with flair and luck his dice-roll came off; The flipside
of the Cluj coin.
Rocky moments but Lennony MUST take credit for 4 goals at a venue tricky
enough to be not one on anybody's qualifier wish-list.; Got us into
the groups, remit achieved after CL disaster.
But at what cost? Eddy limping off with the Nasty-Nasties awaiting
us on Sunday. Why on earth was our golden gun still on the park with the tie
won and having run himself into the 4G?
Nagging doubts that Lennony's afflicted by a lack of clarity when idiots like me
can slur through my fifth pint about Griffiths humping some Scandinavian
blonde in a hospitality box when he should have been running around their
back four at the relief of our French lightning-in-a-bottle. Frustrating,
angst-inducing end to a fine win.
OVERALL - 6.5/10
So the Bhoys rock up to Stockholm to stock-up on porn (that's why they call
it 'Stock'-holm) for the winter and find themselves challenged to a game of
soccer by some fiesty locals.
Out to AEK last year, this season we faced a less popular middle vowel in AIK.
Would another team conceived of alphabetty spaghetti jinx us again?
4 goals, you say? Well, nice... though we looked sloppy and at times,
gifted the ball away criminally. A better side may have punished us severely.
However, we survived, mainly as they had no answer to our flair when we got
at them. To the Bhoys credit we did not wilt. Retaining decent possession was
a problem, but when we did strike it was timeous and crippling to their hopes.
We matched them for competitiveness and overcame their brutal doggedness.
We won and we go on to some moderately exciting times, with any luck.
So we'll take it, this Euro League or UEFA cup or whatever they fucking call it now.
We'll take their group stages with a sigh and some optimism and quickly dismiss
what might have been like a knock-back from the hot one at the disco as we jump
in the taxi with a sure thing. (see what I did there, fans of non-specific gender
indentification equality?).
Go Away Now.
Sandman, on it til Sunday night.
Last edited:
