Brooker / Stanhope

Charlie Brooker’s Newswipe is coming back for a new series and, somehow, he’s persuaded BBC4 to let Doug Stanhope be on it. Brooker is a total Stanhope fanboy, it must be said.

Geek Alert! Geek Alert!

Today (21st November) sees the NASA Cassini Equinox spacecraft fly within 1,000 miles of Enceladus, moon of Saturn and the brightest object in the solar system (Stephen Hawking’s chair excepted).

The website is well worth a look. Geek alert over.

It was 20 years ago today…

… Hans Gilhaus’ debut for AFC. Officially one of the greatest debuts ever.

Two goals, including an overhead screamer.

Signed from the then European Champions for a then club record fee of £650,000 (“Fit? Fir yin player?”) to play alongside champagne Charlie Nicholas.

Willie’s career had basically been ended against Norway during the week, so the Dons lined up with a back four of Scottish internationals McKimmie, McLeish, Irvine and Robertson in front of Dutch cap (fnarr, fnarr…) Snelders.

Able to line up as a 4-4-2 or a 4-3-3, the attack-minded side included Bett, Grant, Connor and Mason (the latter being the man to change position).

How many points would that team win the current SPL by ? Twenty? More?

Bill Leckie speaks sense!

Doesn’t happen often.

About as often as I link to his paper, in fact!

Genuine heroism

One day, I will end up on this site. Nothing surer.

Men staring at boobs.

Heroes, one and all.

 

More idiocy…

So much for not wanting to be like the English.

Mark Steel’s input on Griffin is quite interesting.

 

 

Yuck!

Feeling pretty smug as a veggie right now…

To quote Tony Soprano, you dn’t fuck with the Russians!

Grimsby Town fan writes to his club.

This is apparently doing the rounds on t’interweb;

 

Dear Players of Grimsby Town FC

I am writing with regard to my absolute astonishment and disbelief as to the sheer magnitude of your complete lack of talent and failure to carry out the job for which you are paid to do. I am not aware of any swear word or other derogatory phrase in my current vocabulary which comes close to a description of your ‘performance’ (and I use that term loosely) this afternoon, but let me just say that you have collectively reached a level of inadequacy and ineptitude that neither I nor modern science had previously considered possible.

In fact I recall a time, in my youth, when I decided to call in sick at work and instead spent the entire day in my one bedroom flat wearing nothing but my underpants, eating toast and wanking furiously over second-rate Scandinavian porn. Yet somehow, I still managed to contribute more to my employer in that one Andrex-filled day than you complete bunch of toss-baskets have contributed to this club in your entire time here.

I would genuinely like to know how you pathetic little pissflaps sleep at night, knowing full well that you have taken my money and that of several thousand others and delivered precisely **** all in return. I run a business myself, and I believe I could take any 4,000 of my customers at random; burn down their houses, impregnate their wives and then dismember their children before systematically sending them back in the post, limb-by-limb, and still ensure a level of customer satisfaction which exceeds that which I have experienced at Blundell Park at any time so far this season.

You are a total disgrace, not only to your profession, not only to the human race, but to nature itself. This may sound like an exaggeration, but believe me when I say that I have passed kidney stones which have brought me a greater level of pleasure and entertainment than watching each of you worthless excuses for professional footballers attempt to play a game you are clearly incapable of playing, week-in, week-out.

I considered, for a second, that I was perhaps being a little too harsh. But then I recalled that I have blindly given you all the benefit of the doubt for too long now. Yes, for too long you have failed to earn the air you’ve been breathing by offering any kind of tangible quality either as footballers or as people in general. As such, I feel it’s only fair that your supply runs out forthwith.

I trust, at this precise moment in time, that Mr Fenty is in his office tapping away on the Easyjet web site booking you all one-way flights to Zurich, complete with an overnight stay with our cheese eating friends at Dignitas. Don’t bother packing your toothbrush – you won’t need it.

In the event that our beloved chairman can’t afford the expense (understandable given that he’s soon going to have to assemble a new squad from scratch), then I am prepared to sell my family (including my unborn child) to a dubious consortium of Middle Eastern businessmen in order to pay for the flights. Christ, I’ll drive you there myself, one-by one, without sleep, if I have to.

Failing that, understanding that most dubious Middle Eastern businessmen are tied-up purchasing Premier League football clubs, I ask you to please take matters into your hands. Use your imagination, guys – strangle yourselves or cover yourself in tinfoil and take a fork to a nearby plug socket, or something. Just put yourselves and us fans out of our collective misery.

So, in summary, you pack of repugnant, sputum-filled, invertebrate bastards; leave this club now and don’t you ****ing dare look back. You’ve consistently demonstrated less passion and desire than can commonly be found within the contents of a sloth’s scrotum, so frankly you can just all **** off – don’t pass go, don’t collect your wages, don’t ever come back to this town again.

I look forward to you serving me at my local McDonald’s drive-thru in the near future.

Yours sincerely

A very disillusioned Mariner

Rejected!

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

etc.

Happy Anniversary!

1976 League Cup Final. November 6th.

Aberdeen 2 (Jarvie, Robb) – Celtic 1 (dog-leash)

As an aside, I was recently in the company of a sellick fan from Buckie (who then had the cheek to call me a sheep!) who claimed Dalglish was better than Maradonna! Deluded twat, no wonder his wife wanted to shag me.

I note from the wikipedia page (not the most reliable source, it must be said) rasellickbyrawaybigman played a 4-5-1! Typical infirm, playing not to lose to the mighty Aberdeen Football Club who, it should be noted, started with three up front and, indeed subbed one goalscoring forward for another. Take note, Mark McGhee, he who dares – wins!

It also bears remembering that we pumped the huns in the semi final.

C’wa the Dons!

The Times’ recent take on it.