Playing a game in the Championship League of Europe is always good. Playing in all the games in the Championship League of Europe is even gooder, especially if you win the last one. That’s when you get a nice trophy and all the other teams have to bow when they see you and call you ‘King’. Not playing a game in the Championship League of Europe is bad. Shit, even. I’ve forgotten my point.
Opposition summary: CSKA Moscow are the best team in the Championship League of Europe that have no vowels in their first name apart from ‘A’.
Prediction: A goal for him, one for that guy and another for that bloke with the eyes sees our ruddy brave boys savour a comfortable three-nil victory. 0-0 United.
I met the Italian Gary Nevillio at South Mimms services when he let me out of his boot, and over a celebratory coffee he told me that his favourite things are a first-time parallel park, toffee popcorn and when two pieces of gum fall out of the packet just like they do in the adverts:
I’ve been asked to make more of an effort on here. McGhee never makes more effort.
But here’s a film review, for fans of my film reviews…
Hall Pass: As pedestrian as cinema gets since the pedestrianisation of Hollywood town centre. At points the film threatens to challenge gender archetypes, but then doesn’t. That aside 10/10.
Transformer or Star Wars reference.
Prediction: Benno and Brett to put something above this bit, which is actually me, Tom: I legit forgot there was a game and when I remembered I was playing Eldar Scrolls. Just use my usual film review/running joke/Transformer or Star Wars reference and the proles will lap it up. Stupid proles. Kinda rhymes. That was on purpose because I’m now a street poet as well as all round legend.
I would hate to start my detailed inspection of tonight’s opposition with counterpointednessisation of what Benno said up there – as in, it’s my favourite thing ever and stuff – but there is another team with far better credentials than CSKA Moscow as the best team in the Championship League of Europe that have no vowels in their first name apart from ‘A’. This isn’t simply an exercise in padding out my bit because I can’t be arsed constantly talking about this bullshit sport that never sleeps. I repeat: This isn’t simply an exercise in padding out my bit because I can’t be arsed constantly talking about this bullshit sport that never sleeps. And that team is Mona … No, wait, drat. Arsen … bastard. Barcel … titbubbles. Pari … bumgrapes. Malm … arsechops. VFL … facelips. Dynam … Dinam … BAT … shit. Okay, that’s enough padding. You win this time Benno.
Prediction: Danny with his customs cavity search. Apparently, according to that old couple – who’ve been hanging around with me, claiming to be my parents – my recent predictions – coupled with my profile pic – have been coming off as a tad desperate, and I ought to respect myself more and cuss less and stop using punctuation incorrectly; in public. I’m not grounded indefinitely, that would be a ridiculous assumption, I’m not even sure why you suggested it as a thing, however, I won’t be at the pub for the next 13,056 weeks Laydeez. Sorry. 0-0 United.