Sha Deezy on the chop; you crazy for this one, potna :
Who needs a mandatory nine point deduction when Liverpool are quite capable of losing those points on their own, eh?
Bonus beats :
OutKast - Benz Or Beamer
Always the best song to use the Beasties "Drrrrrrrrrrop!" sample from The New Style, and all the more impressive for being a generic movie soundtrack assignment job which they molded to fit their own aesthetic. Andre was one cool bastard in his transitional post-Southernplayalistic/pre-ATLiens period, and dude had a serious pair of grapefruits on him to hit The Tunnel up in trousers which may have possibly been created by Jim Henson a few years later in 1998 when Watch For The Hook was poppin'.
This is pretty much the architectural equivalent of a lobster-red sunburn tanned flabby 40 year old bloke in a tight nylon England shirt, 3/4 length cargo shorts and a bulldog tattoo :
So much so, in fact, that a person of that desciption walking up the road behind us barked "what you cunts taking pictures of?" before we hastily retreated to the safety of Sha Deezy's ride and got the hell outta dodge.
I really tried to get into the Eng-er-lund spirit of things yesterday. My BFF and I headed to a bar in the early afternoon to keep one eye on the Argentina game and one eye on the vodka & waters (it's all about the paradoxical balance of liver-rotting poison and the nectar of life) and ran into some extended associates, but come 5 o'clock when cretins with painted faces were turning up in droves and breaking into sing-a-longs of Three Lions and Wonderwall, any vague pretense of bonhomie was replaced by contempt and it was time to bounce.
On the plus side of things, though, I made the money I lost betting on a 1 - 1 draw on the France vs. Uruguay game on friday night back by successfully calling the England vs. America game as a 1 - 1 draw. U.S.A! U.S.A! U.S.A!
Clarence Boddicker : "Well, give the man a hand!"
On a related note, DJ's superb chronicle of the World Cup, and Dom's World Cup wall chart of rap part 1 are essential reading.
It's the moment this blog has been waiting for ever since we gave birth to it that night back in 2008. No, we haven't stumbled on a Judith from Eggheads narrated sextape of Victoria Coren lezzing off with the Sweet Valley High twins, but it really is the next best thing imaginable as we can finally say Ciou to the managerial genius who thought it was a good idea to play Harry Kewell in a champions League final and piss Xavi Alonso off so much that he left.
Football is still a bit of a Draconian sport sometimes, though. Not because of goalline camera technology not being utilized to the fullest or boring anything like that, but more because it hasn't adopted tactics from the sport of the gods : wrestling. Why, if your team is losing, can't your manager and substitutes run onto the field wielding chairs and get the game nullified, and why aren't managers relinquished of their positions subjected to humiliating leaving rituals in front of baying crowds?
Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Na Hey Hey Goodbye!
Now, if Gerrard can manage to score an own goal in England's first World Cup game to turn himself into a national figure of hate and have people finally wake up to the fact that he really is little more than a slightly above-average player who comes up with the odd flukey goal which then results in Capello dropping him to allow a holding midfielder to play with Fat Frank instead then, gosh, this is going to be the bestest World Cup since 1994.
This fall from grace would also result in Mourinho coming to his senses and realising that Gerrard is the last player on earth he needs at Madrid and instead securing the signature of the one English player who's absolutely tailor made for the Mourinho style of play : Rory Delap.
Henchoz blatantly handled the ball in the box to prevent a Henry goal in the 2001 F.A Cup final and the Irish inflicted House Of Pain on the world. Is this a case of karma turning its hand to finally catch up with matters it should've taken care of years ago?
The world can only be a better place now the sight of fat white men removing their replica shirts to reveal badly tattooed beer bellies which hang beneath their genitalia has been consigned to the occasional game against Cardiff, Doncaster or Swansea on Sky Sports 3.
Danzig - Going Down To Die
If only this sweaty, fake-tanned, Matalan-Mourinho of a cunt could have been cast off back into the championship hell where he belongs too, eh?
One imagines this t-shirt is gonna be a highly collectable item in years to come so snap up the remaining 8 while there's still the chance, folks.
Thank fuck that's all over, eh? As Derek McGovern quipped in The Mirror when the story first broke : Manchester City are a club that a player with ambition leaves, not joins. That might just be the realest shit the bitter scouse crap-tipster ever wrote.
Still, at least Man City got Bellamy (14 fucking million!) yesterday to soften the blow. A player so tempremental he makes Anelka look like a selfless and humble Giggsian style veteran and so spectacularly injury prone even Michael Owen looks at him and asks Who's the kid with the gimpy legs? A shrewd buy, Sparky. I'm sure Mourinho will appreciate a player of the calibre of Bellamy when he takes over at the Eastlands this summer.
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