Thursday Thrap
Enola Gay, you should have stayed at home yesterday.
Defeat?
It’s a rum old deal when part of you is almost pleased (I am not pleased) to see your club eliminated from a major competition, but there we go; the filth of modern football is that it’s impossible to know what to think anymore. You get to speculating that maybe United’s consequent lack of money will lead to the closing of a few more malls in America, which sounds like a boon, until you remember the folk relying on them for their livelihoods who aren’t dribbling, gormless Glazers. You get to speculating that maybe the failure to make the knockout stages will persuade them that the squad needs some investment, which of course it does, except that of course it won’t. And you get to speculating that some of the players need a stamp in the face, except that they’re so fucking oblivious that they wouldn’t notice even if it was Goliath handing them out. What a mess, eh? Some decent Euro aways coming up, though.
Daniel Harris
Definitely not match fixing
So with half an hour to go Lyon need a seven goal swing in their favour, and they’re only four one up away to Dinamo Zagreb. People are claiming match fixing, but there are a few points to make here. If you were going to fix a match would you do it in the most eye catching game of the night for the neutral supporter? Would you leave it to the last minutes of a tie? Exactly, you wouldn’t. There’s no way it’s a fix. What do you mean Bafétimbi Gomis scored the quickest hat-trick in Champions League history, beating the superhuman Mike Newell’s record from 1995? FIX. IT IS A FIX.
Alexander Netherton
We’re all in it together
When even board members sitting for housing associations denigrate the people who are merely renting, as opposed to owning their building like real, better humans, you know you’ve lost. That’s like sitting on the cabinet as health secretary and complaining that those bloody sick people aren’t turning over quite enough profit, and maybe we should try to exploit their medical records. Oh.
