Well what a harum scarum 90 minutes that was against Mr. Rodgers’ Anfield Comedians, was it not? With both Lord Peregrine Meatlocker and Larry Costerley both out for the first time in three years it was up to young, eager but awful Indian Kanvar Kumar and our very own naked buccaneer Mr. Gabby Pallister to man the central sentinel positions.
Mr. Kumar may one day turn out to be a fine foot-baller. But on this occasion he gave off the wanion air of a junior assistant bank manager, suddenly asked to step up to manage the branch on the day of an armed robbery. He flitted hither and thither like a moth on laudanum, misplacing passes like Michael Owen misplaces the spoken word. We were saved by the superb colossus between the sticks, Harry the Helmet, who had to be not just glove butler but centre-half for most of the match. Make no mistake, if Mr. Sesley had been in charge we would be looking at a 0-4 reverse, and crisis would have been setting in. Quite how Mr. Church managed to keep Mr. Benjamin Teckay’s shot out of the bag, or push Phil Courtney’s shot onto the stick I shall never know.
I can, however, shed some light onto the reason for Mr. Ramsara’s early strike being ruled out for offside. See the picture below, in low resolution, of the linesman incorrectly flagging for offside.
I have had my crack team of photographic boffins enhance this image. And what do we find? You will agree that this is quite shocking.
Are we never to be free of this ape-faced psychopath and his vendetta against Arsenal, and Mr. Ramsara in particular? Was not a broken leg enough to sate his vicious appetites? Shall we see the FA leap into action, like a viper? WE SHALL NOT.
After oranges, despite Linesman Shawcross’s attempts to ruin our season before August is out, Woolwich were much the better side, with Liverpool time-wasting from 45 minutes onward, like the cheating vermin that they are. Saunders hit the upright and the eternally frustrating Mr. Goring-Hildred was denied by Simon Minion in the Liverpool goalmouth. Liverpool’s possession figures of just over a third meant that Mr. Rodgers undoubtedly wept in front of the portrait of himself he keeps in his vulgar home that evening.
Some other key statistics were that Woolwich have failed to score in five of their last six home games. And we have failed to score in our opening two league home games for the first time since 1979. Which in the old days might mean we had a striker who doesn’t score many goals, and that we should be looking to purchase one who does. However, I am comfortably reassured by pass completion statistics, and possession percentages, and so on, which count for so much in the league table.
However much he doth protest, Mr. Windsor must surely be on the lookout for a striker who scores goals. The feast of Transferia nears, and once again we are interested in Gary Higginbotham from Northampton. Do you remember that godforsaken saga of two years ago? The endless, hallucinatory wait for the arrival of a striker who never arrived? Well, it seems to be happening again. The good news is it will be a rather more compressed version this year with precisely the same result. Other targets are Alan Corcoran from Dynamo Macclesfield and Julian ‘The Count’ Dracula from Shrewsbury Town. Any of them would do. Anyone. Just buy a ruddy striker. And a defender. And a sturdy central midfielder. For all our sakes. Please
On the subject of buying defenders, did you notice that this week that that dissembling fustilarian ponce Mr. Mourinho, in almost the same breath as his assertion that Arsenal were attempting to buy the league, have bid £40m for Mr. John Stones of Merseyside? Just when you thought the hypocrisy of this Portuguese stinkard could get no lower, he finds a way. You have to admire it.
Notice reaches Gentleman Towers that we are drawn against Middlesex Rovers in Small Cup. One hopes that exciting young swordsman Geoffrey Reine-Adelaide eviscerates that fat-necked maggot pie Kyle Walker and leaves him seeking assistance from the local asylum. This game will mean such a great deal to those impoverished criminals in Middlesex if they were to win that surely another of their famous and not at all embarrassing DVDs will be pressed shortly eft the final whistle.
For a reminder of just such a product from 2008, please see here. Such untrammelled joy for a victory over an Arsenal side featuring Justin Hoyte & Armand Traore.
We shall have intercourse at lunchtime tomorrow, dear hearts, for we travel to southern Scotland to play the Humbugs, a game which is apparently to be supplied by The Post Office for nationwide viewing! Whatever next, trains run by a recording company, one supposes!
I remain yours – The Gent.
