I could not give less of a fuck.
A preening, prancing prat joins a bunch of entitled tossers. Who cares?
Meanwhile, the greatest club in the world are about to put the plastic pretenders in their place.
Can’t wait!
I could not give less of a fuck.
A preening, prancing prat joins a bunch of entitled tossers. Who cares?
Meanwhile, the greatest club in the world are about to put the plastic pretenders in their place.
Can’t wait!
Seems like it’s all that concerns this forum so I’m not going to blame the media!!!
In a word, no. Tyler, Lineker, Neville, the fucking lot of them will be obsessed with the return Ronaldo. I don’t think I’ll be able to watch Match of the Day this weekend.
Jürgen and his team will know the personnel, formation and tactics to see us through this game.
COYR YNWA
This should be fun…or a total waste of time…
Two great managers
Two great forward lines
Two great defensive lines
The winner will be determined by focus and composure.
1-0 the lads
YNWA
Matchday. Finally!
Of all the signings and homecomings, not one equates the returning of fans at Anfield. Hope we remind the rest of the league how performance on the pitch matters more than the off field nonsense. Time to put a gap between us and rest of the league.
I’d rather ours than theirs.
This game is huge. First real test of the season….and theirs.
It’s got 0-0 written all over hasn’t it!
The sunshine of a fair summer’s morn fell graciously upon Lowton Towers. Out in the adjoining byways and highways its heartening warmth seemed to infuse into pedestrians and traffic alike a novel jauntiness, so that bus drivers jested and even the lips of delivery-drivers uncurled into not unkindly smiles. Police community support officers whistled at their posts; ne’er do wells approached the task of trying to persuade perfect strangers to bear the burden of their maintenance with that optimistic vim which makes all the difference.
It was one of those happy mornings.
But such moments cannot last; there is always that wayward spec of grit in life’s Vaseline.
So it was as I sat in the potting shed, sipping port and perusing the pre-match missives, I made the awful discovery that no-one had had taken it upon themselves to pronounce the lex sacrificii et Musa sapientum fixa cutis.
I sank back in my chair feeling like the good old man in some melodrama of Victorian days whose mortgage the villain has just foreclosed.
Bemoaning the fact that having usurped the duty the cohort of the damned had vacated it, without so much as a by-your-leave, curses involuntarily proceeded from my lips.
‘The rank clay-brained canker-blossom whores-mounts!’ ‘The poisonous, rascally urchin-snouted, fawning cock-pated incontinent varlets!’
‘The…’ ‘Hulme-Rothery,’ snapped Boudica, ‘stop babbling!’ ‘The matter is in hand.’
I did as directed, and there was silence while she paused to select for utterance one of the three devastating remarks which had come into her mind simultaneously. It was as she stood wavering between them that a distant telephone rang.
Left to my own devices I would have let it ring till it became exhausted, but the Mem, like all women, is incapable of this dignified attitude. She hurried to the instrument.
As I refreshed my glass I offered up a silent prayer of gratitude that the Mem had departed before I had the opportunity to appraise her of Lawro’s predicted one all draw.
Hopefully his attempted kiss of death won’t throw a spanner in the works and upset the apple-cart.
That’s a good one, one that I shall try to remember.
@Lowton_Red
As always, nectar to the Gods
You mean remember to look out for the grit Flobs…
What would you be using so much vaseline for then.!!! :0)
To slip into my rare conversations.
Ian Doyle: The best team in Europe is in town this evening.
And they’re playing Chelsea.
Anyone else getting butterflies??
The sunshine of a fair summer’s morn fell graciously upon Lowton Towers. Out in the adjoining byways and highways its heartening warmth seemed to infuse into pedestrians and traffic alike a novel jauntiness, so that bus drivers jested and even the lips of delivery-drivers uncurled into not unkindly smiles. Police community support officers whistled at their posts; ne’er do wells approached the task of trying to persuade perfect strangers to bear the burden of their maintenance with that optimistic vim which makes all the difference.
It was one of those happy mornings.
But such moments cannot last; there is always that wayward spec of grit in life’s Vaseline.
So it was as I sat in the potting shed, sipping port and perusing the pre-match missives, I made the awful discovery that no-one had had taken it upon themselves to pronounce the lex sacrificii et Musa sapientum fixa cutis.
I sank back in my chair feeling like the good old man in some melodrama of Victorian days whose mortgage the villain has just foreclosed.
Bemoaning the fact that having usurped the duty the cohort of the damned had vacated it, without so much as a by-your-leave, curses involuntarily proceeded from my lips.
‘The rank clay-brained canker-blossom whores-mounts!’ ‘The poisonous, rascally urchin-snouted, fawning cock-pated incontinent varlets!’
‘The…’ ‘Hulme-Rothery,’ snapped Boudica, ‘stop babbling!’ ‘The matter is in hand.’
I did as directed, and there was silence while she paused to select for utterance one of the three devastating remarks which had come into her mind simultaneously. It was as she stood wavering between them that a distant telephone rang.
Left to my own devices I would have let it ring till it became exhausted, but the Mem, like all women, is incapable of this dignified attitude. She hurried to the instrument.
As I refreshed my glass I offered up a silent prayer of gratitude that the Mem had departed before I had the opportunity to appraise her of Lawro’s predicted one all draw.
Hopefully his attempted kiss of death won’t throw a spanner in the works and upset the apple-cart.
…what?
Anyone else getting butterflies??
Me.
Not fear, as such, because we are Liverpool! But there’s definitely an edge to this one, two big teams, any result WLD genuinely possible. Only the third game of the season, so not as consequential as it might be, but still a big game.
A real chance to put down a marker here, before the ridiculous international break.
2-0 Liverpool.
Only the third game of the season, so not as consequential as it might be
Three points is three points, no matter what stage of the season it might be.
Anyone else getting butterflies??
No, just hornets. Ever seen a hornet? Bloody huge industrial strength wasps that makes a noise like a power tool. They are actually a protected species in Germany which is just as well because if you hit one of those things with a fly swatter they’d just swipe it off you and twat you back with it.
Anyway, when are the team sheets due?