Sandman
Well-known member
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CELTIC v VERMINOUS TRAMPITUDE
"Champions are made from something they have deep inside of them -
a desire, a dream, a vision"
- Mahatma Gandhi
ROXIE - 8/10
The showstopping showgirl. Where do you start?
The comedy slip that had you soiling yourself?
Urgency to keep the game going late on when everyone's
screaming at him to take it easy?
Nah, let's just focus on the Hunskelping Save Of The Season -
As vital to the cause as any striker's poached winner:
Incredible instinctive anticipation to prevent the anonymous
Arsefeeler imitating yet another fantasy shipyard commander,
and snuff out the last candle of title hope in the stygian
darkness of Mordor. There's only one salute due from that
moment and it's a Hail Cesar for the Celtic keeper.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 6/10
Stop trying to be a footballer, and focus on the baking...
No, the simple things, I mean. Rocky as a pished mountain
goat for the first twenty then got back to basics and was
solid until the last scramble when everyone seemed
afflicted by some amateur theatrical stage play farce
syndrome.
STAR LORD - 8/10
Over that tumultuous atmosphere one ratchety racoon
voice could be heard squealing itself hoarse as Star Lord
threatened to implode with a ubiquitous selling of the
jerseys as we struggled to kick into gear.
But the Green Brigade knew different - todays tifo had a
Peaky Blinder centrepiece and, remarkably, he shook
off the psychotic jabberings and the Shelby swagger came
into play.
For the most part he was terrific, save for the last period
when Sakala ran him ragged; too exposed and not tight enough,
yet not entirely his responsibility. What he did excel at was
winning crosses - not a Hun heid met anything with potency as
Star Lord got his timing perfect and dominated interceptions.
GET CARTER - 7/10
The Big Mhan is feeling the heat. Looked more weary than
usual as the game dragged on and he had pace to cope with.
Had cleaned out the big Haribo Jelly comfortably throughout,
but the Fashion Victim's running took its toll on his
lumberjack legs and as we fell too deep he was troubled by
direct runs. But he's not out of shape, because that's his
job, and he powered through to the death.
TONY THE TIGER - 6.5/10
Ah, Tony under pressure but coping is a fine sight.
He had the measure of the Kamp Kapo after an early
skinning; Shuffled him inside most of the game until
tiring pistons had him on late retreat.
A difficult defensive shift indeed as Borat roved up the
left too, putting Tony under the most stress any Celtic
full-back's been required to face in some time.
He coped through sheer focus and workrate, unable
to offer much attacking threat, but compensated
that frustration with a decent attempt at fracturing
Arsebandit's metatarsil.
CALMAC - 8.5/10 MOTM
This is the difference; A mhan like this in the centre
midfield, able to conduct the orchestra when the
symphony is swelling in delightful waves of offense,
BUT - and today THE epitome of it - exhibit the mindset
of a champion when duff notes are being hit consistently
and the audience are emotionally fraught.
TWO tackles of matchwinning endeavour - One in particular
as roving RKent boy skipped away from tired legs
and bore down on our box - best tackle I've seen in YEARS
given the moment, the occasion and the skipper's starting
position.
Not only felled the emaciated junkie male escort but took
the ball from behind as well.
When he lifts that League Title trophy, it'll be one of the
most deserving pair of hands ever laid on it.
THE BUILDER - 6.5/10
A surprise starter? To me, yes. Fury of the game
isolated him early on, but the kid's got the class
to ease himself in through footballing ability and
he did so pretty competently as we began to get a grip.
Exited leaving the notion that there's more in the
repertoire but that will come. There's a Rogic-eqsue
skelper emerging in the next few seasons.
HAKUNA HATATE - 6/10
A tired Japanese Bhoy. But for a good time he looked
mentally alert enough to repeat February heroics.
Became apparent the muscles were just out of synch
with the synapses and a few flicks and tricks failed
to come off.
With a proper rest, I'd expect Iniesta to be bang-on
about his class. (Best player he'd seen in the J-League,
fyi).
NOTEBOOK - 7.5/10
Finally, and so nearly, he gets to be the Hunskelper
we knew he was. Denied the ultimate accolade as
points shared but becomes another ghost to haunt
the nightmares of Borat, crooning 'Bay-by, I'm your
man!" in his ear as he swooped in past him to notch
the vital opener.
Looked really dangerous, setting up, whizzing around.
But missed a sitter and faded second-half with the
collective.
MR.KOBAYASHI - 5.5/10
'Play Kyogo!' we yelled. 'And give him some service!'
we should have also yelled. So the wee mhan toiled
and troubled and is probably still waiting on a cross
or through-ball meant for him. Next time, Kyogo-San,
Skelping legend you will be.
LORD KATSUMOTO - 7.5/10
Thank Ghod they dragged him out of the showers after
the game as he attempted Hari-Kari with his antique
samurai blade.
A stunning first-half left Tavpen with more blisters than
a Hiroshima survivor and teed up our goal with an incisive
bit of two-footed excellence.
But he missed THE chances to seal the title; smashed
over our only real attempt of the second 45
when it looked easier to hit the target, and of
course, THAT header - spooked out of it by Satan's
Satyr when any half-decent connection won it all.
Only thing you can excuse it with, is that in Japan
he never had to compete for a cross whilst also
worrying about being raped...
SUBS:
ROGIC - 6/10
Belated entry for a Hunskleper of renown. A starter,
for my buck's worth, but what the fuck do I know?
Nod along all you like but you're the one who's read
this bollocks all the way down here. I just rattle
it out...
)
Anyway, on he came and for 5 minutes looked
like he'd inflict more pain until lapses at the
back turned the momentum towards the Dark Side.
Still salvaged some threat after that with deft
touches but the onus was more on holding out.
BLOCKCHAIN - 5.5/10
The perfect foil to throw in, but maybe too
late to the party to stem the turning tide. Yet,
was reliable a few times to steady the ship, and
nerves.
SON OF JACKIE - 6.5/10
On came the berserker to rough up the uglies.
And he didn't disappoint. They just hate his
physicality.
Drew a yellow from the MIB, nearly got on the
end of cutbacks; really would have been Xmas
to see this maniac score the winner.
ABADASS - 6/10
The flighty desert lizard scampered on and
scampered around, terrifying Borat and almost
notching another in his young Hunskleping career,
but for a stride too early and a flag too late.
ANITA DOBSON - 7.5/10
Strewth. Angeball did the damage, only functioning
for around a third of the contest as they went at
it, appeared surrendered, then resurged in a last
desperate attempt to thwart his glorious inaugral
triumph.
I'm still surprised he let fellow surfer Oz languish
on the bench instead of asking him to burn out
and torch the Huns first.
But the boss knows best and got the result we'd
all have taken beyond the title-winning scudding
we craved.
His astonishing revamp of a decimated squad and style
of play is baked to a delicious consistency and now
just requires the icing to completely dispel
the dour Calvinist litany that you can't have yer cake
and eat it.
If your heartbeat is Celtic, and you've got Ange, fuck
that anachronistic old Hun ideology - ye can!
MIBBERY - 2/10
A no-win situation for him. Alas, he failed to impose
himself in the manner of his fevered dreams.
It'll be like Deliverance in the toilets of the
Bellshill Bar tonight. Not much different to
any other night, to be honest, but centre of
attention this evening will be a celebrity
referee squealing like a pig in his pleas for
mercy.
"You sure looked mighty purty in 'em taight
little shawrts lettin' 'em Tims off, maynnn..."
will probably be the last words he hears above
his own screaming.
#Pray for Johnny
OVERALL - 7/10
Well, well, well.. . A polis special; a goal
each and a draw; nothing decided... Weeelll...
... Except for the fun part that we're a single
win from the title and the filthy Klan animals
couldn't behave themselves in Paradise again as
they watched their empty-stadium-asterisk-covid
-cup-pretendy-title slide away from their foetid
grasping claws.
Once reality will sinks home the Govan Zoo will
be like jurassic Park as mayhem breaks loose and
the genetic freaks run riot.
Looked as if we could finish them off like a
Mortal Combat foe after we shook off hangovers
and got the game under our power. But hellish
finishing kept the cellar door open just a chink
and the horrors emerged with nothing to lose,
finding the dark energy to propel towards
an unlikely win that may have cast unease over
championship expectations.
But, times of turmoil produce heroes - big
beautiful Joe stole the limelight and our captain
showed he might have even been able to save
the Titanic with a midfield effort of such stoic,
battling resistance that Gerry Butler stepped aside
to offer him the King Leonidis role. ('300', film
illiterates...)
So we're on the verge of one of the most unlikely
championships of my days, one that will be all the
sweeter for the hubris, bigotry, and complete
degeneracy that's slimed its way out of the
Kultchur Wasteland over the past season.
Three points is all we really need, barring
10-0 pumpings either way.
I hope we slaughter the Diets properly next week,
then spend the last 2 games kicking the fucking
ball into our own net every time we hear they've
scored, just to ramp up the hateful bastards' anguish
to maximum...
Go Away Now
Sandman
"Champions are made from something they have deep inside of them -
a desire, a dream, a vision"
- Mahatma Gandhi
ROXIE - 8/10
The showstopping showgirl. Where do you start?
The comedy slip that had you soiling yourself?
Urgency to keep the game going late on when everyone's
screaming at him to take it easy?
Nah, let's just focus on the Hunskelping Save Of The Season -
As vital to the cause as any striker's poached winner:
Incredible instinctive anticipation to prevent the anonymous
Arsefeeler imitating yet another fantasy shipyard commander,
and snuff out the last candle of title hope in the stygian
darkness of Mordor. There's only one salute due from that
moment and it's a Hail Cesar for the Celtic keeper.
GREGGS THE BAKER - 6/10
Stop trying to be a footballer, and focus on the baking...
No, the simple things, I mean. Rocky as a pished mountain
goat for the first twenty then got back to basics and was
solid until the last scramble when everyone seemed
afflicted by some amateur theatrical stage play farce
syndrome.
STAR LORD - 8/10
Over that tumultuous atmosphere one ratchety racoon
voice could be heard squealing itself hoarse as Star Lord
threatened to implode with a ubiquitous selling of the
jerseys as we struggled to kick into gear.
But the Green Brigade knew different - todays tifo had a
Peaky Blinder centrepiece and, remarkably, he shook
off the psychotic jabberings and the Shelby swagger came
into play.
For the most part he was terrific, save for the last period
when Sakala ran him ragged; too exposed and not tight enough,
yet not entirely his responsibility. What he did excel at was
winning crosses - not a Hun heid met anything with potency as
Star Lord got his timing perfect and dominated interceptions.
GET CARTER - 7/10
The Big Mhan is feeling the heat. Looked more weary than
usual as the game dragged on and he had pace to cope with.
Had cleaned out the big Haribo Jelly comfortably throughout,
but the Fashion Victim's running took its toll on his
lumberjack legs and as we fell too deep he was troubled by
direct runs. But he's not out of shape, because that's his
job, and he powered through to the death.
TONY THE TIGER - 6.5/10
Ah, Tony under pressure but coping is a fine sight.
He had the measure of the Kamp Kapo after an early
skinning; Shuffled him inside most of the game until
tiring pistons had him on late retreat.
A difficult defensive shift indeed as Borat roved up the
left too, putting Tony under the most stress any Celtic
full-back's been required to face in some time.
He coped through sheer focus and workrate, unable
to offer much attacking threat, but compensated
that frustration with a decent attempt at fracturing
Arsebandit's metatarsil.
CALMAC - 8.5/10 MOTM
This is the difference; A mhan like this in the centre
midfield, able to conduct the orchestra when the
symphony is swelling in delightful waves of offense,
BUT - and today THE epitome of it - exhibit the mindset
of a champion when duff notes are being hit consistently
and the audience are emotionally fraught.
TWO tackles of matchwinning endeavour - One in particular
as roving RKent boy skipped away from tired legs
and bore down on our box - best tackle I've seen in YEARS
given the moment, the occasion and the skipper's starting
position.
Not only felled the emaciated junkie male escort but took
the ball from behind as well.
When he lifts that League Title trophy, it'll be one of the
most deserving pair of hands ever laid on it.
THE BUILDER - 6.5/10
A surprise starter? To me, yes. Fury of the game
isolated him early on, but the kid's got the class
to ease himself in through footballing ability and
he did so pretty competently as we began to get a grip.
Exited leaving the notion that there's more in the
repertoire but that will come. There's a Rogic-eqsue
skelper emerging in the next few seasons.
HAKUNA HATATE - 6/10
A tired Japanese Bhoy. But for a good time he looked
mentally alert enough to repeat February heroics.
Became apparent the muscles were just out of synch
with the synapses and a few flicks and tricks failed
to come off.
With a proper rest, I'd expect Iniesta to be bang-on
about his class. (Best player he'd seen in the J-League,
fyi).
NOTEBOOK - 7.5/10
Finally, and so nearly, he gets to be the Hunskelper
we knew he was. Denied the ultimate accolade as
points shared but becomes another ghost to haunt
the nightmares of Borat, crooning 'Bay-by, I'm your
man!" in his ear as he swooped in past him to notch
the vital opener.
Looked really dangerous, setting up, whizzing around.
But missed a sitter and faded second-half with the
collective.
MR.KOBAYASHI - 5.5/10
'Play Kyogo!' we yelled. 'And give him some service!'
we should have also yelled. So the wee mhan toiled
and troubled and is probably still waiting on a cross
or through-ball meant for him. Next time, Kyogo-San,
Skelping legend you will be.
LORD KATSUMOTO - 7.5/10
Thank Ghod they dragged him out of the showers after
the game as he attempted Hari-Kari with his antique
samurai blade.
A stunning first-half left Tavpen with more blisters than
a Hiroshima survivor and teed up our goal with an incisive
bit of two-footed excellence.
But he missed THE chances to seal the title; smashed
over our only real attempt of the second 45
when it looked easier to hit the target, and of
course, THAT header - spooked out of it by Satan's
Satyr when any half-decent connection won it all.
Only thing you can excuse it with, is that in Japan
he never had to compete for a cross whilst also
worrying about being raped...
SUBS:
ROGIC - 6/10
Belated entry for a Hunskleper of renown. A starter,
for my buck's worth, but what the fuck do I know?
Nod along all you like but you're the one who's read
this bollocks all the way down here. I just rattle
it out...
)Anyway, on he came and for 5 minutes looked
like he'd inflict more pain until lapses at the
back turned the momentum towards the Dark Side.
Still salvaged some threat after that with deft
touches but the onus was more on holding out.
BLOCKCHAIN - 5.5/10
The perfect foil to throw in, but maybe too
late to the party to stem the turning tide. Yet,
was reliable a few times to steady the ship, and
nerves.
SON OF JACKIE - 6.5/10
On came the berserker to rough up the uglies.
And he didn't disappoint. They just hate his
physicality.
Drew a yellow from the MIB, nearly got on the
end of cutbacks; really would have been Xmas
to see this maniac score the winner.
ABADASS - 6/10
The flighty desert lizard scampered on and
scampered around, terrifying Borat and almost
notching another in his young Hunskleping career,
but for a stride too early and a flag too late.
ANITA DOBSON - 7.5/10
Strewth. Angeball did the damage, only functioning
for around a third of the contest as they went at
it, appeared surrendered, then resurged in a last
desperate attempt to thwart his glorious inaugral
triumph.
I'm still surprised he let fellow surfer Oz languish
on the bench instead of asking him to burn out
and torch the Huns first.
But the boss knows best and got the result we'd
all have taken beyond the title-winning scudding
we craved.
His astonishing revamp of a decimated squad and style
of play is baked to a delicious consistency and now
just requires the icing to completely dispel
the dour Calvinist litany that you can't have yer cake
and eat it.
If your heartbeat is Celtic, and you've got Ange, fuck
that anachronistic old Hun ideology - ye can!
MIBBERY - 2/10
A no-win situation for him. Alas, he failed to impose
himself in the manner of his fevered dreams.
It'll be like Deliverance in the toilets of the
Bellshill Bar tonight. Not much different to
any other night, to be honest, but centre of
attention this evening will be a celebrity
referee squealing like a pig in his pleas for
mercy.
"You sure looked mighty purty in 'em taight
little shawrts lettin' 'em Tims off, maynnn..."
will probably be the last words he hears above
his own screaming.
#Pray for Johnny
OVERALL - 7/10
Well, well, well.. . A polis special; a goal
each and a draw; nothing decided... Weeelll...
... Except for the fun part that we're a single
win from the title and the filthy Klan animals
couldn't behave themselves in Paradise again as
they watched their empty-stadium-asterisk-covid
-cup-pretendy-title slide away from their foetid
grasping claws.
Once reality will sinks home the Govan Zoo will
be like jurassic Park as mayhem breaks loose and
the genetic freaks run riot.
Looked as if we could finish them off like a
Mortal Combat foe after we shook off hangovers
and got the game under our power. But hellish
finishing kept the cellar door open just a chink
and the horrors emerged with nothing to lose,
finding the dark energy to propel towards
an unlikely win that may have cast unease over
championship expectations.
But, times of turmoil produce heroes - big
beautiful Joe stole the limelight and our captain
showed he might have even been able to save
the Titanic with a midfield effort of such stoic,
battling resistance that Gerry Butler stepped aside
to offer him the King Leonidis role. ('300', film
illiterates...)
So we're on the verge of one of the most unlikely
championships of my days, one that will be all the
sweeter for the hubris, bigotry, and complete
degeneracy that's slimed its way out of the
Kultchur Wasteland over the past season.
Three points is all we really need, barring
10-0 pumpings either way.
I hope we slaughter the Diets properly next week,
then spend the last 2 games kicking the fucking
ball into our own net every time we hear they've
scored, just to ramp up the hateful bastards' anguish
to maximum...
Go Away Now
Sandman
Hump yon Mini’s ice Cream Draw wi DunDont Utd jelly
Slàinte
my ribs are sore 
