This is my second effort for Bifurcated. I’m assuming I’m supposed to write something purely because: 1) I haven’t been told otherwise; b) I haven’t been killed with murder; and, iii) I literally have nothing better to do with my time. Just realised that this will also be Mata’s second outing re: United so that makes us the same. Well, not quite the same; I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a suit without a tie. What am I, a farmer?
Tuesday was a good start for our new number eight (still seething about that little fiasco), although I base that judgement solely on the work of others. This is because, even though I sat in front of my computer for the full 90, I probably only got to watch about 15 minutes of his debut because of all the other w*nkers using the Interweb at the same time. Jerk Jerk City, Bitch. Apparently, he set up one of our goals and also set up the set-up for the set up of the other goal (N.B. I don’t like the word ‘assist’ because my Grandad was killed by a man with that name during the War. Or because stats are ruining our lovely game. Pick one. Either way, it’s all the fault of those Shatner-stealing Mexico-touchers across the water to the left of Ireland).
Tuesday also heralded the return of Robin van Persie, who picked up where he left off before his ouchy by putting the round thing in the oblong thing with part of his body in a correct and legal manner. Oh, he scored a *airq*GOAL*uote*. Thanks, Mum. Seeing as I’d predicted him to score two, I actually felt a bit disappointed with his apparent lack of effort. Layshee Dutch bashtard.
Prediction: As it’s NOT a wet and windy Tuesday night in Stoke, I’m assuming our players WILL be able to do whatever it is that is hard to do on a wet and windy Tuesday night in Stoke (hang your washing out?). I reckon Stoke will fear Johnny Kill (that’s English for ‘Juan Mata’ because I am a Spanish genius. I don’t mean that I’m a clever Spaniard, but that I’ve got bare linguistic skillz. ‘Bare’ means ‘better than average’ in street words, and ‘skillz’ just means ‘skills’ but with a ‘z’ instead of an ‘s’ at the end) and the returning RVP, so they’ll probably park the bus on the pitch (is that even allowed?) leading to a tight and hard-fought match. Final score: 1-2, with RVP bagging again and Janazs…. Januzss…. Janiszs…. that young chap who knows how to treat a lady to chicken and chips getting the other goal. Oh, Stoke’s goal will be scored by one of their players. Unless one of ours scores for them. Or there’s a ricochet off the bus.
About the author: I’ve never done ‘it’ in Stoke on any night in any weather.
Despite a slight improvement, something just hasn’t felt right. Seeing a new face was supposed to have brought more positivity, but it’s just the same rubbish being prescribed. It’s a real headache. There’s the same lethargy. It’s painful. Anyway, that’s me and my sinus infection, that I’ve now had since before Christmas. Let’s get to the football before I d