Come on Blues, you bad divvies.
First order of business is congratulations to the Red Army for once again winning the singing and the not sitting down.
We could probably reduce the match report and indeed the rest of the season to three simple words. Is. Anybody. Arsed?
Was it Black Grape who had an album called ‘You Only Write When We’re Shite, Yeah!’?
Remember them sinister pencil drawings by sixth formers that used to adorn the walls of the art department at school?
Right, same again, another cut and shunt report where we weld the rusting arse end of the Arsenal game to the chassis of the Swiss and hope that no one asks for the logbook. There is a discount on Lacoste in the boot though.
You only write when we’re winning, write when we’re winning.
Right then, this is only going to be brief.
Oh well, at least this ‘cup classic’, or Roberto Martinez’s Series of Unfortunate Events, means we get to take a break from all the usual boring guff about systems of play and lost dressing rooms.
Je suis Roberto.
We’ve said it before, but last-minute game-changing goals make writing about matches difficult.
What a time to decide to start updating this a bit more
Because the temptation after this latest orphanage fire was to just pretend to be too busy. It’s something written for a hobby, a bit of a laugh, and there’s just nothing in the slightest bit amusing about Everton at the moment.
It’s been written in instalments this, so the Stoke bit was completed before we went to St. James’ Park. Hopefully the tone is a bit sunnier at the end then, because after the defeat to Stoke it all started to feel a bit Ron Burgundy: ‘Well that escalated quickly’.
Oh Everton, your season has got one wheel in the ditch and one wheel on the track.
Oh you tricky Blues, oh you tricky Blues, you’re driving your mamas and papas insane.
What’s occurring, Dave? What? Not that great, what with the economy and that bug that’s been ‘going around’? Never mind squire, you’ve always got Everton.
Yeah, about that.
We keep toying with the idea of updating this thing daily, come what may, in the same way that comedian Richard Herring has with his blog.
‘What? Make a statement through a bloody solicitor? Are you daft lad? Listen, this is a storm in a teacup. I’ll sort this out with a bit of old-fashioned common sense.’
Hey, anybody there? Hello?
It’s good to see David Moyes back on telly, talking about how he’s ready to get back into management.
First of all a question. What’s so technical about the technical area? It should be called something like the ‘gobby box’ or the ‘Lucozade bottle zone’.
Over to you, Mr Blatter.
A look of recognition flashed across the face of Angel Di Maria as he took to the field and spotted Seamus Coleman.
The Argentine grinned, smugly, recalling a torrid, balmy night in Lisbon, but the young Irishman shot back an icy glare and hissed: ‘Maybe you didn’t hear. You’ve been away a long time. I don’t shine no fuckin’ shoes no more, Billy.’