Wednesday 11 October 2017

Wey-to-go-mouth! Fucking Horseshit!

Jesus Fucking Christ, where to start.

For the germ of tonight's shit storm, you could go back to the 65 minutes after we went 4-0 up to Gosport, and then the first half against Dorchester a week ago. Saturday was cack, but it was a moment where we switched our brains off and we paid for it.

What didn't help was the League Cup fucking colossal piss take a week before. Set up for a Grandstand event, free pint of wazz water and more advertisement than any other home game this season and we get humiliated by a team a league below and that we'd beaten 5-0 in a preseason friendly. Nothing then suggested they were as capable of the football they played at times but we put six first team squad members in the starting lineup and filled the rest with kids which then ultimately cost them their F.A Youth Cup place. If they weren't knackered then they were mentally shot. The first teamers were clearly given strict instructions to not try too hard and avoid injury and they looked like it.

If that had been billed as the irrelevance it was treated as by the playing staff, £5 to get in and no pint with the youth team then if we'd lost 6-1 to a strong Hartley Wintney team then that's fine. Ten fucking nicker to watch that was a disgrace. What's worse is we had some new people showing up who found it hilarious and won't come again. It made us look like the joke club that the reputation forged post Westley has slapped us with.

That's that for the Tinpot Cups for us for the foreseeable.

On to tonight, and the optimism wasn't high. Weymouth are a strong side and closing in on the playoffs so this was going to be far from easy.

Ah the playoffs. The carrot dangled from the stick in front of our summer signings to entice them. For balance the loss of some integral players to their dream moves (Castrol and Tiny Dancer) and injuries and absences haven't helped achieve a settled side. However, a large dollop of reality was required preseason instead of the basking in the Indian summer of our promotion.

We actually started brightly, looked the better side and Reg nearly opened his account for the season with near post pulveriser stinging the palms of the ball bag protector.

All it took was a breakaway. The undoing in the last home league fixture was the rotting fly infested corpse in the ointment tonight. One nil became two nil despite the Lions share of possession. Finally some luck and The Salmon collects a ball in the box, flicks it up and lofts a volley into the top corner. GAME ON, SKUNK PUSSIES.

But what's this? A simple ball dissecting the back three and the right wing bastard pulls it back and a prick controls and smashes in.

Immediately it's 2-3 though as a corner goes to the back post and their ball bag bellend drops a bollock by chucking it into his own onion bag, then of course complained for a foul like a shit Spanish keeper. He wasn't convincing anyone and not a single one of his mates Wey-mouthed off so nothing doing. Even he gave up.

The rest of the game has somewhat been over shadowed, over clouded, over shite'd by the fact it finished 6-2. Yes they were about as sporting as John McEnroe after one too many E numbers, the histrionics were fucking laughable (yes you No.9 losing your fake eyelash you twonk and No.2 who would much have preferred it if it was a non contact sport when he had the ball) but we've buried the hour of horse shit deep into our psyches. 2-3 at half time made it look like we stood a chance. We didn't.

We aren't ones to slag off our own (players) but the heroes of last years defence are the back ups to Hank Marvin and the rest of the band, let alone even the shadows of the players from last season.

Josh and CJ have had injuries but they looked like strangers and with all due respect Saville has shown nothing as to why he was deemed so essential and showing Jack "Hucknall" Smith the door. We here at TheBoroWalk Towers still struggle to see why he wasn't given a chance in light of the shambolic defending we've seen recently.

The sudden propensity to ship goals with such penache does coincide with the breaking up of the Reggie and The Organ central defensive partnership and whilst we appreciate that was makeshift and neither are centre halves (although Reggie can play anywhere and does) the fact we are leakier than Edward Scissorhands' water bed suggests that something isn't working back there.

There are some out there who aren't so much phoning it in as getting their Mum's to call their bosses as they have a really sore throat.

You know who you are and we don't need to point them out (oh, maybe we just did). We will say that there are a small minority who are still busting a gut out there week in week out and that's Perry "The Hoffen" Coles, Keith "The Fucking Legend Reggie" Emmerson, Nic "Clintons" Ciardini and Jamie "Curo" Cureton. Often without success and it's the least we expect, but at the moment we are expecting the least.

Far more interesting than the game was Spencer's post match interview with Dom "I'm not really here" Lloyd. Basically, several will be going but the official reason will be that they can't train twice a week. Straight off the bat, Curo and Chilli have gone. Gawd bless 'im but Aiden Upward isn't up to the task just yet so despite being No.3 choice a few weeks ago he's now the ONLY fucking choice and the search is proving fruitless. Apart from the obvious answer. FUCKING BRING THE SLAYER BACK!!

We go again very quickly, Hitchin at home. Something needs to be done about the defence and clearly crowbarring his favourites into a three man defence is not the answer. Reg needs to start in there to organise it, play four and move The Salmon into midfield.

Our starting eleven would look something like this:

1. The Slayer
2. The Organ
3. Truncheon
4. Reg
5. CJ
6. The Salmon (in midfield)
7. Richlist
8. Good
9. The Hoffen
10. Mustard
11. Clintons

Show a bit of fucking heart, humility and pride, whatever the result.

WE GO A-FUCKING-GAIN.

COME ON YOU YELLOWS.

1 comment: