Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC v PISH-GARGLING HEATHENS
"Ye, know, many a bad hing's written aboot them creepy
bloated zombie freaks that come here twice a year, but
A'hve got tae say - they left they toilets clean as a
whistle and nae damage at all the day... Dry as fuck,
mind - no a drap ay water, or even pish tae be mopped -
which wis weird - but anyhing's progress..."
Wee Senga, toilet attendant, Hun Monkey enclosure.
ROXIE - 7/10
The big glam-slam beauty - quiet days he's known against
the formidable Euro pee-slurping titleists but never as
quiet as today, surely?
Still, utter class personified to palm one round the post
second-half, then fall out with his skipper as he produced
the save of the day to thwart a Calmac OG diving header.
Both agreed the effort was worthy of a goal. The Huns?
They just cried.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 7/10
Tomorrow's pastry breakfast maestro was hardly pressured!
His presence against the magnificent (stop sniggering at
the back) Euro-2nd-tier-not-quites was both effusive and
(supposedly, lol) inconsequential - nothing they offered
troubled him and every time he strode forward they'd lost
him among the frenzy of Hoops they couldn't live with;
suddenly, whoosh! - he nips behind their static backline
and gets the cut in for our third. Baked to perfection.
STAR LORD - 5.5/10
The only fly in our ointment. No apologies to the Star
Lord apologists - there was a distinct flakey element
to his game that deserved a slaver-empire blue jersey.
I appreciate he's full of the Arthur Shelby care in the
community goodwill, but the number of times he lost
composure under no pressure was alarming. The panicked
header in no-man's land? Tell me Benzema wasn't watching
that over Pornhub...
GET CARTER - 8/10
Magnificent unit, magnificent game; dispatched the
latest Zombie threat like Daryl in the Walking Dead,
minus the crossbow. Manhandled his manhandling like
a boss, and put in some precise blocks/interceptions
as well as building our counters with clean, crisp
distribution.
JURAN JURAN - 7/10
A relatively unassuming and undervalued 90 minutes.
Our savage victory revolved around him subduing the
threat of the KL Kapo Nazi collaborator which
completely sterilised ther attacking menace.
Second period, we saw him relax and vent the turbos
which almost produced a fine goal after a surging
run. If only he hadn't struck it like some Hun
fanny...
CALMAC - 8/10
How good is the main man? Consistently marvellous
is the answer you're reachng for. Ridiculous and
unnatural consistency is his trademark and today,
despite the changes come the hour, despite the new
personnel around him, Calmac did.. . Not. Falter.
Once he was done teaching them to play proper
football he launched an injury-time diving header
at his own nets. Just - and pay attention here,
interloping Huns - For. A. Fucking. Laugh.
Because that's how good he his.
THE BUILDER - 8/10
'Quietly gorgeous' - sums up the handsomeness
of the kid the Huns cannot cope with and his
languid footballing genius that effortlessly
slices open teams like the second-best urologists
in europe 2021-22.
Aside from his sublime goal involvement, you
got the buzz every time he had the ball at
his feet within range. And await the intake
of breath that accompanies his vision; Bhoy's
a big star in the making.
HAKUNA HATATE - 7/10
Thought Reo came into it so sweetly as they
tired; as in - they got fed up chasing our
possession like demented three-legged
greyhounds after an old wummin's furry bunnet,
and Reo took over.
That said, he did fail to capitalise on his
dominance a bit, despite pinging some sumptuous
diagonal passes interspersed with sprightly
pieces of play. Still, what an asset to take
centre stage as other players fade back a little.
MR.KOBAYASHI - N/A
Dear God, the horrible impending doom that
accompanied his bizarre injury. Only to be
eclipsed later by the realisation we might
have notched TEN with a fit, buzzing Kyogo,
and comic relief at his comedy pratfall
during post-game celebrations as he mimicked
Tavpen.
NOTEBOOK - 8/10
The touch. The dink. The celebration.
6 million, you say? Marvellous...
The sheer footballing purity of it all
may explain why I'm still in awe, and
the wife won't wear a George Michael
mask to bed... Even though her and my
sister-in-law were cooing about 'how
lovely-looking' that bhoy was; the
decadent tramps...
Just shut up and go with it, luv, right?
ABADASS - 8.5/10 MOTM
Son, ye're a wee scurrying, Hunskelping
miracle from the East, mid but not far.
Abraham Van Helsing has written in
blood-soaked parchment to Celtic asking
for the kid's vampire-slaying secrets
but as yet we're keeping his lethal
talents under tight lock and key.
Like I said Wednesday, poor Borna was
mostly stumbling blindly - and loaded-nappy
- into his fat Hun nanny's comforting
embrace after Abadass signalled his intent
in the grim North.
Today, well I'm afraid dear Nanny put the
boot to Borna's whining fizog - "Man up,
ya wee dick (in Croat)" after seeing him
wilt in the tunnel and collapse like Alfie's
rent-boy erse when Abadass ramped up the
pressure.
Our wunderkind's movement was simply
irresistible, uncontainable and
irrepressible - he shredded their left
defensive flank. Difficult question to
conclude - when we flying an Israeli flag
in his honour? Nnnng...
SUBS -
SON OF JACKIE - 6/10
Bam! Get on an bam them up! But he didn't
really - not the wway I expected. He was
just a split-second off or a mistimed
leap/run away from racking up a personal
tally.
But as yet - amazingly - our Greek Ghod
hasn't attained the divine Hunskelper
status. It'll surely come, even with
frustrating afternoons like this offering
plenty up on a plate.
MOOEY - N/A
Shucks, mayte, I'll just laff around like
Warney and keep it tickety-boo while the
rabids chase shadows.
EDDIE TURNBULL - 6.5/10
"Go on, Johnny - gie the doddering old cunt
a kick, eh? Aww, for fuck's sake, man - no'
like that...it's no a fuckin' comedy..."
Yes. Yes, it was.
BIG MERCEDES - 6/10
Stability. Screwed around in Mingwall,
but emphasised his presence today after
subbing on for a semi-hysterical Star Lord,
bringing some sanity to a second-half
resistance determined not to let the
backline be breached by any desperate
spawn of the Devil.
LORD KATSUMOTO - N/A
So, it's like this - Big Ange reads this shite,
though God knows why - and obviously liked my
cunning plan dreamed up in Wednesday's ratings
for Daizen to be held back to harass resurgent
Huns second-half if required.
But then, today... No resurgent Huns, no need
for the madman to fire about like an ADD kid
on speed, and no need for 'our' plan to save
the day.
However... In the interests of balance - and
pushing my luck - here's a Tuesday ploy, Ange -
take 5 off Madrid.
Hush, now - play it cool, Trig, play it cool...
ANITA DOBSON - 9/10
Angeball, lol; a quaint Tim fantasy derided
by the Scottish Fitba' hacks, the Huns (obviously)
and something not to be taken seriously by anyone
who really knows 'soccer' and who witnessed the
tactically mature and astute 'Jars' freewheel
their way to the controversial pish-sookers Euro
Final.
Weeeellll, not so much anynmore, lulz. Ange set
up as ever, dared his players and opponents to
dare, and calmly oversaw another deluded Huns'
evisceration; tactically rinsed them across
every department and coasted to a defining
victory with goals to spare. Hun apologists
assemble - the Big Mhan's leading your roast.
MIBBERY - 6/10
Ya wee cunt. Could have been TEN if he hadn't
insisted in simping to his dark and deep
cosmic-horror masters.
Tricky little Nicky - child of Cthulhu indeed;
STONEWALL penalty at 1-0, STONEWALL red card,
numerous yellows held back; give it up, shiny
boy - yer team got horsed and hosed despite
your staunch intransigence when it came to
dishing out just punishment. Read this and
weep: 4-0, going on 7 or 8, and you couldn't
do anything about it. Ya. Fucking. Failure.
OVERALL - 9/10
God damn you, Madrid - we would have taken
half a dozen off them if it wasn't for the
thought of the upcoming European Champions
clash nagging at the back of Celtic minds
like my missus hustling me out of Prestwick
'PresFest' pubs tonight as I castigated
the artists for not taking requests for
Irish folk tunes like Roll Of Honour,
or bargaining for at least a trade-off
cover of Abba's 'Super Trooper'...
Yeah, one of those great days where everyone
you encounter past three o'clock wonders
why you're so bloody happy with life until
their own inherent prjudices ooze to the fore
and they realise, just at the same time you
see it manifesting and can't take the smirk
off yer countenance...
Didn't the Bhoys do well? Up against 'proper'
opposition for the first time this season,
allegedly... And the Huns ended lucky we didn't
go full Dundee United on them, but for bigger
fish to fry.
Everything Angeball you doubted was deleted
like your dodgy hard drive content within
the first 45, and we have now lived to see
the tale of two cities play out - one
miserable, violent, oppressed and locked down
through a pandemic that facilitated a glitch
in the matrix of Slaver-Empire blue, and this
new-found freedom paradise of green and white
Hoops, rampaging through and over every
challenge in a post-modern, post-apocalyptic
version of Big Jock's pure beautiful, inventive
football.
Long live the big Aussie. Your day
has come. And Huns, so has yours...
Go Away Now
Sandman
"Ye, know, many a bad hing's written aboot them creepy
bloated zombie freaks that come here twice a year, but
A'hve got tae say - they left they toilets clean as a
whistle and nae damage at all the day... Dry as fuck,
mind - no a drap ay water, or even pish tae be mopped -
which wis weird - but anyhing's progress..."
Wee Senga, toilet attendant, Hun Monkey enclosure.
ROXIE - 7/10
The big glam-slam beauty - quiet days he's known against
the formidable Euro pee-slurping titleists but never as
quiet as today, surely?
Still, utter class personified to palm one round the post
second-half, then fall out with his skipper as he produced
the save of the day to thwart a Calmac OG diving header.
Both agreed the effort was worthy of a goal. The Huns?
They just cried.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 7/10
Tomorrow's pastry breakfast maestro was hardly pressured!
His presence against the magnificent (stop sniggering at
the back) Euro-2nd-tier-not-quites was both effusive and
(supposedly, lol) inconsequential - nothing they offered
troubled him and every time he strode forward they'd lost
him among the frenzy of Hoops they couldn't live with;
suddenly, whoosh! - he nips behind their static backline
and gets the cut in for our third. Baked to perfection.
STAR LORD - 5.5/10
The only fly in our ointment. No apologies to the Star
Lord apologists - there was a distinct flakey element
to his game that deserved a slaver-empire blue jersey.
I appreciate he's full of the Arthur Shelby care in the
community goodwill, but the number of times he lost
composure under no pressure was alarming. The panicked
header in no-man's land? Tell me Benzema wasn't watching
that over Pornhub...
GET CARTER - 8/10
Magnificent unit, magnificent game; dispatched the
latest Zombie threat like Daryl in the Walking Dead,
minus the crossbow. Manhandled his manhandling like
a boss, and put in some precise blocks/interceptions
as well as building our counters with clean, crisp
distribution.
JURAN JURAN - 7/10
A relatively unassuming and undervalued 90 minutes.
Our savage victory revolved around him subduing the
threat of the KL Kapo Nazi collaborator which
completely sterilised ther attacking menace.
Second period, we saw him relax and vent the turbos
which almost produced a fine goal after a surging
run. If only he hadn't struck it like some Hun
fanny...
CALMAC - 8/10
How good is the main man? Consistently marvellous
is the answer you're reachng for. Ridiculous and
unnatural consistency is his trademark and today,
despite the changes come the hour, despite the new
personnel around him, Calmac did.. . Not. Falter.
Once he was done teaching them to play proper
football he launched an injury-time diving header
at his own nets. Just - and pay attention here,
interloping Huns - For. A. Fucking. Laugh.
Because that's how good he his.
THE BUILDER - 8/10
'Quietly gorgeous' - sums up the handsomeness
of the kid the Huns cannot cope with and his
languid footballing genius that effortlessly
slices open teams like the second-best urologists
in europe 2021-22.
Aside from his sublime goal involvement, you
got the buzz every time he had the ball at
his feet within range. And await the intake
of breath that accompanies his vision; Bhoy's
a big star in the making.
HAKUNA HATATE - 7/10
Thought Reo came into it so sweetly as they
tired; as in - they got fed up chasing our
possession like demented three-legged
greyhounds after an old wummin's furry bunnet,
and Reo took over.
That said, he did fail to capitalise on his
dominance a bit, despite pinging some sumptuous
diagonal passes interspersed with sprightly
pieces of play. Still, what an asset to take
centre stage as other players fade back a little.
MR.KOBAYASHI - N/A
Dear God, the horrible impending doom that
accompanied his bizarre injury. Only to be
eclipsed later by the realisation we might
have notched TEN with a fit, buzzing Kyogo,
and comic relief at his comedy pratfall
during post-game celebrations as he mimicked
Tavpen.
NOTEBOOK - 8/10
The touch. The dink. The celebration.
6 million, you say? Marvellous...
The sheer footballing purity of it all
may explain why I'm still in awe, and
the wife won't wear a George Michael
mask to bed... Even though her and my
sister-in-law were cooing about 'how
lovely-looking' that bhoy was; the
decadent tramps...
Just shut up and go with it, luv, right?
ABADASS - 8.5/10 MOTM
Son, ye're a wee scurrying, Hunskelping
miracle from the East, mid but not far.
Abraham Van Helsing has written in
blood-soaked parchment to Celtic asking
for the kid's vampire-slaying secrets
but as yet we're keeping his lethal
talents under tight lock and key.
Like I said Wednesday, poor Borna was
mostly stumbling blindly - and loaded-nappy
- into his fat Hun nanny's comforting
embrace after Abadass signalled his intent
in the grim North.
Today, well I'm afraid dear Nanny put the
boot to Borna's whining fizog - "Man up,
ya wee dick (in Croat)" after seeing him
wilt in the tunnel and collapse like Alfie's
rent-boy erse when Abadass ramped up the
pressure.
Our wunderkind's movement was simply
irresistible, uncontainable and
irrepressible - he shredded their left
defensive flank. Difficult question to
conclude - when we flying an Israeli flag
in his honour? Nnnng...
SUBS -
SON OF JACKIE - 6/10
Bam! Get on an bam them up! But he didn't
really - not the wway I expected. He was
just a split-second off or a mistimed
leap/run away from racking up a personal
tally.
But as yet - amazingly - our Greek Ghod
hasn't attained the divine Hunskelper
status. It'll surely come, even with
frustrating afternoons like this offering
plenty up on a plate.
MOOEY - N/A
Shucks, mayte, I'll just laff around like
Warney and keep it tickety-boo while the
rabids chase shadows.
EDDIE TURNBULL - 6.5/10
"Go on, Johnny - gie the doddering old cunt
a kick, eh? Aww, for fuck's sake, man - no'
like that...it's no a fuckin' comedy..."
Yes. Yes, it was.
BIG MERCEDES - 6/10
Stability. Screwed around in Mingwall,
but emphasised his presence today after
subbing on for a semi-hysterical Star Lord,
bringing some sanity to a second-half
resistance determined not to let the
backline be breached by any desperate
spawn of the Devil.
LORD KATSUMOTO - N/A
So, it's like this - Big Ange reads this shite,
though God knows why - and obviously liked my
cunning plan dreamed up in Wednesday's ratings
for Daizen to be held back to harass resurgent
Huns second-half if required.
But then, today... No resurgent Huns, no need
for the madman to fire about like an ADD kid
on speed, and no need for 'our' plan to save
the day.
However... In the interests of balance - and
pushing my luck - here's a Tuesday ploy, Ange -
take 5 off Madrid.
Hush, now - play it cool, Trig, play it cool...
ANITA DOBSON - 9/10
Angeball, lol; a quaint Tim fantasy derided
by the Scottish Fitba' hacks, the Huns (obviously)
and something not to be taken seriously by anyone
who really knows 'soccer' and who witnessed the
tactically mature and astute 'Jars' freewheel
their way to the controversial pish-sookers Euro
Final.
Weeeellll, not so much anynmore, lulz. Ange set
up as ever, dared his players and opponents to
dare, and calmly oversaw another deluded Huns'
evisceration; tactically rinsed them across
every department and coasted to a defining
victory with goals to spare. Hun apologists
assemble - the Big Mhan's leading your roast.
MIBBERY - 6/10
Ya wee cunt. Could have been TEN if he hadn't
insisted in simping to his dark and deep
cosmic-horror masters.
Tricky little Nicky - child of Cthulhu indeed;
STONEWALL penalty at 1-0, STONEWALL red card,
numerous yellows held back; give it up, shiny
boy - yer team got horsed and hosed despite
your staunch intransigence when it came to
dishing out just punishment. Read this and
weep: 4-0, going on 7 or 8, and you couldn't
do anything about it. Ya. Fucking. Failure.
OVERALL - 9/10
God damn you, Madrid - we would have taken
half a dozen off them if it wasn't for the
thought of the upcoming European Champions
clash nagging at the back of Celtic minds
like my missus hustling me out of Prestwick
'PresFest' pubs tonight as I castigated
the artists for not taking requests for
Irish folk tunes like Roll Of Honour,
or bargaining for at least a trade-off
cover of Abba's 'Super Trooper'...
Yeah, one of those great days where everyone
you encounter past three o'clock wonders
why you're so bloody happy with life until
their own inherent prjudices ooze to the fore
and they realise, just at the same time you
see it manifesting and can't take the smirk
off yer countenance...
Didn't the Bhoys do well? Up against 'proper'
opposition for the first time this season,
allegedly... And the Huns ended lucky we didn't
go full Dundee United on them, but for bigger
fish to fry.
Everything Angeball you doubted was deleted
like your dodgy hard drive content within
the first 45, and we have now lived to see
the tale of two cities play out - one
miserable, violent, oppressed and locked down
through a pandemic that facilitated a glitch
in the matrix of Slaver-Empire blue, and this
new-found freedom paradise of green and white
Hoops, rampaging through and over every
challenge in a post-modern, post-apocalyptic
version of Big Jock's pure beautiful, inventive
football.
Long live the big Aussie. Your day
has come. And Huns, so has yours...
Go Away Now
Sandman
