The Premier League Twitter Match Reports
Still ill.
EVE 4–0 FLM. “Pogrebnyak’s real name much shorter” claims Cottage whistleblower as cops investigate grand-per-letter club shop print scam.
STO 1–1 ARS. “Whatever,” shrugs Pulis. “Our season finished weeks ago. I only turned up today on the off-chance we snapped someone’s leg.”
SUN 2–2 BOL. Bouyant Coyle resists suggestion that, if anything, the hitched-up knee-length socks look even more ridiculous than the shorts.
SWA 4–4 WW. Camp Nou Ultras “wanking into their hats” in anticipation as Barca-bound professorial soccer-boffin Terry Connor boards Easyjet.
WBA 0–0 AV. Big Eck reprises Trainspotting role, yelling “Square go!” skywards before wading into the Villa fans with a shattered pint pot.
WIG 4–0 NEW. Pardew looking forward to hordes of topless lardbacks summoning “Shee-rah” God of Apes as idiocy follows inflated expectation.
NOR 0–3 LIV. Science throws in towel after failing to figure out how the fuck Dirk Kuyt manages to run slower than he walks.
CHE 6–1 QPR. Chelsea squad don ‘Pray for Neville’ t-shirts as surgeons toil to stem goalgasm jizz-geiser Gary’s profoundly ruptured spunk-tank.
TOT 2–0 BLB. Erstwhile smile back on Arry’s face. Well, i say face. More a shelter for homeless bowels. But you get my twitch, sorry, drift.
Little Big Match is on fucking Twitter.
