Friday, March 13, 2009

High Noon, well, nearly

As always in the preceding week of a clash of the only two teams of note to lay claim to the colour Red, I, as a member of the Scouse religion, have been climbing a hill composed of hope, false hope, anticipation, nerves, belief and disbelief. Whats awaits me at the summit? Pastures of potential laid out before my beloved Reds? Or a dark and dreary road to the end of the season and an equalling of our much lauded league title record? Whatever the outcome, I will be wearing the home jersey in my local Liverpool pub and screaming at the telly as Torres hopefully does to Ferdinand what he so easily did to Cannavaro in midweek. I want to see that Spanish Godsend, tearing at his jersey in frenzied celebration with a reeling Stretford End as the backdrop to the stage he so rightly deserves. To see Stevie G soak up the venom of thousands upon thousands of United supporters as his shot strains the net to breaking point, with Edwin and Rio out of focus, bickering in the background. I want to see the eternal workhorse, Dirk Kuyt pulsating with delight but with a face that has unleashed the pent up passion of a true Red. Sweat, Effort, Passion and that eusive element of victory. The media need to see their darlings of attacking football, Manchester United, bullied about their own pitch by the sheer hunger of a team that has not won a domestic league title for much too long. Stevie, we know you are the best. They know you are the best. Lets get started on them admitting it.

Sunday, October 28, 2007

Oooooh Jaysus


Ohh-ho-ohh Jaysus, one twishty day I was shcuttlin' down the road. I shpat a shkitter o' me famous lung butter atop the head of a dirty auld crow. 'Ohh Jaysus' I said. The winged vermin said 'Ooh Jaysus!' as it flapped moishtly away, absholutely drippin' from the heavens. And then me shingles reared their caloushed head, and me itches shtyarted. 'Ooh Jaysus' I whimpered, as me ferocioushly curioush itches explored the weathered geography of me body with their feathery appendages. There was nothin' for it, so I plunged me fisht down into me kacksh and shivered like a washin' machine. I purred like a cat in heat as I shattered auld scyabs and bits o' me flaky flesh and then muttered 'Ooh Jaysus'. I realised as I was flitterin away at meself that me one crusty hand couldn't cure this itch, and through me scyab ringed eyes I shpotted a bent aul lump of a tree. Ooh Jaysus I was all over that tree like my bad rash was all over me, gyratin and shimmyin like a desperate pole dancer. Oooh Jaysus me itchy carriage was soon flaking away into the wind like feathersh from a bushted pillow shack.It was amidsht me tree related eckshtasy that I did shee a dirty aul hoo-er of a box lying sheductively on the shide of the road. 'Oooh Jaysus' I muttered under me shour breath. 'What'sh in that there box I wonder? Ha? I have a box in me house and things do be livin in me box. Oooh Jaysus, whatsh in that box?'


I limped over to the grimey aul cube, cursing me shcyabbed up foot and shtump of me right leg. ‘Oooh Jaysus’ I shaid ‘If only I had two feet, I wouldn’t have an odious dirty shcyabbed up stump on the end o’ me leg that shtinks to high heaven and attracts badgersh in heat, ooh jaysus’. I caresshed its dirty aul shides and lifted its grimey lid. ‘OOOOH JAYSUS!’ A shlug as big as Shaquille O’Neals leg walloped out over the shide of it and shplattered all over me kneesh. ‘OOOH JAYSUS’ I screamed. Never in me shcabby aul life had I sheen shuch a monstrosity of shlimey shite oozing about me feet shince the day I gnawed me foot off. It mushta bin nigh on four foot long and one foot high. ‘Ooh Jaysus, get the hell away from me feet ya fed-ex from the divil!’ I reared my shlimy shtump, (the one that does be attractin badgers) and I smashed it down through the mash of purple jelly, pinning him to the hard ground beneath his twitching mass of horror that functioned as a body. There was only one thing for it, ‘Ooooooh Jaysus’.
After I wrenched me shtump clean from the shlimey ball of muck I used me eyes to have an aul peek inta the box o’ mystery. And lord god in heaven above, what I shaw was nothing’ short of amazing.


The wondersh that were hiding in that box never ceashe to amaze me (mainly because me amazement gland is dried up due to me flakiness). When the creaky auld lid revealed its well hidden secrets a shkatter o’ batsh exploded upon me like a zit that dealt mainly in black flappy thingsh. All the batsh turned left and dishappeared into a poof of plungersh and abacushes. ‘Ooooh Jaysus’ I shtuttered. This cube has more about it than yer usual run o’ the mill bog shtandard box. Oh jaysus, never a truer word was shpat from shuch a scyab ringed mouth.
As I examined the box ‘Ghoshtown’ by The Shpecials began to play. Well, Oooh jaysus, never have I heard such a hauntin’ air. It was as if Billy Joel himshelf had took a hould o’ me shpine and tinkled me ivories. Dirty auld shmoke was now steaming’ outta the box, and then out flew a rat with wingsh.
‘Oooh Jaysus! What are ye? Get away! Away!’ I screamed till I began to ooze. The winged horror perched on a branch of the scratchy tree.
‘Who’s a pretty boy?’ the feckin’ thing shpoke. I made the shign of the crossh and muttered ‘Oooh Jaysus’The box had let out shome short of bird that could talk, surely the work of the divil.
‘Hi there’ it shpake again ‘Would you like to know the mysteries of the universe?’
I oozed and bubbled in thought, and then nodded, ‘go on sho’.


The shpakin’ divil with the wings coaxed me nearer at the box o’ wonder.
‘Peek inside, o flaky mortal’ I shot him a look through one o’ me famous scyab ringed eyesh. It’sh not jusht flakin’ I do be at, I do be oozing and bubblin, and on hot daysh I do peel and produce shkin rashers’ The divil winced.
‘Just look in the box’ Sho I did, after a bit of oozing and bubblin, for effect.
‘What do you see?’ ashked the divil. I screwed up mefeshterin’ face and looked.
‘I shee a thing, shlimy. Looks like an inflatable rasher’
‘That, mere mortal, is the brain of Moses himself!’
‘Oooooh Jaysus is it now hah?’
‘Have some respect you decaying shell of humanity’ I shot the divil a look and shapt a shkitter o’ me lung butter at him, he dodged.
‘Here now, watch yer beak or I’ll shtraight up eat ya. I’m fuckin’ shatrvin’, I haven’t eaten in weeksh. I’ll make feathery shite outta ya wit me three molars’

Sci-Fi Nostalgia

Watched Strutter earlier on. He described Amy Winehouse as every Star Trek character rolled into one. :)

Care for her...from over here