The Twitter Season Preview
ARS. Kroenk-wonk civil war threatens Wenger’s twink-scene boner jam, one cheap African teen away from a reality-warping gooey denouement.
AV. Fuck! Brian Jones is Villa’s Academy Director! Jagger’s gonna be livid: 1000 butterflies can’t have been cheap. Oh, it’s Bryan with a Y.
CHE. Timber-limbed potentate and champion of minorities John Mandela to release album of moving duets with a disenfranchised black man (TBA).
EVE. Exciting times at own-brand Anfield as Bill Kenwrong unveils new half-time tombola. Well, the handle’s new. We’re not made of money.
FLM. Haynes. Cohen. Robson. Marsh. Mullery. Sidwell? Probably not. They do have a bronze statue of a paedophile though. Swings & roundabouts.
LIV. Lukewarm FC hand Carroll-peddling duties to what appears to be a permanently disgruntled CID officer looking into the back of a spoon.
MNC. Bought, paid for. Next…
MNU. Vile gingham-clad soccer blancmange fund 2012/13 DHL-sponsored Death Ray Project with invisible-to-the-naked-eye 93rd-choice kit grift.
NEW. I know stripes are fattening but once you pass the 18 stone-mark the point becomes moot. So keep your fucking shirts on. Cunts.
NOR. Incest survivors support group don ceremonial fluorescent apparel, ever thankful that Daddy didn’t have thumbs to insert as well.
QPR. Celebrity smack-dullard & unquantifiable hoop Pete Doherty invited to shit somewhere controversial during Loftus Rd curtain raiser.
REA. Tedious geordie portaloo Alan Shearer will repeatedly mistake them for QPR and vice versa. Apart from that, nothing of note will occur.
SOU. Bournemouth subsidiary set for excruciating 9-month turd-birthing marathon. Intermittent explosive episodes; may require several wipes.
STO. Stoke: like coming home to find your wife and kids have been spatchcocked by an escaped mental. Only far less psychologically scarring.
SUN. Shit-eating Murder Junkies frontman GG Allin may prove key signing as Martin O’Mackem strengthens squad with several deceased perverts.
SWA. Massive albatross swallows Gower Peninsula rendering all home fixtures unplayable. Games will be relocated on the whim of David Guest.
TOT. Shop-soiled man-management catastrophe inflates gargantuan nostrils, hopeful he’ll smell the next mutiny before it hits him in the face.
WBA. Oh, for fuck’s sake. Did these low-expectation convivial dick-burps not get relegated? Tell me Chiles is in a coma, at least.
WHU. Self-regarding gravy-blooded writ-filing war pig Sam Big-I-Am tips up at the top table despite having a worse approval rating than Assad.
WIG. Pimpy gob-apocalypse Dave Whelan returns with new sylphlike figure after shedding all excess dignity in rigorous close-season dickathlon.
These are part of the Surreal Football Season Preview, featuring Rob Smyth, Scott Murray, Jacob Steinberg, Andrew Thomas, Surreal Football and lots of other writers. You can find out how to order and more details here.