Benno (@Benglorious)

Imagine if we’d got Mourinho instead of Moyes. Got that? Now imagine a giraffe, but with wheels and Quentin Tarantino’s face. Still with me? Now imagine a building so vast that it has its own capital city. What’s the name of that city? Nobody knows. I’ve forgotten my point.

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Opposition summary: Manchester City are the best team in Manchester that we hate a little bit.

Prediction: So many goals up in this place they’ll have to rename it Goalchester. They probably won’t do that because of the hassle of changing all the road signs and having to think up a new word for ‘Madchester’. 0-0 United.

 Tom (@tom_mcghee)

Can’t do words as El Capitan is downloading slower than Daley Blind.

If I email one of youse, can you copy and paste?

Derby isn’t even in Manchester.

Film review: Jurassic World [see Jurassic Park review, bifurcated_previews_United_vs_Chelsea_2017]

Prediction: 6-1 City. Lol. As if that could happen. Nasri for Rooney.

Please italicise the film titles – I am a professional. And also by email i mean this.

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 Brett (Alisha’s@ic)

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Like David and Goliath. Like chalk and cheese. Like night and day. Like light and shade. Like two sides of a coin.

Just a bit of information about me for you there: I like David and Goliath and chalk and cheese and nights and days and light and shade and both sides of all the coins.

It’s very rare that an anagram gets to play against itself, and disappointingly this pathetic half-arsed anagram is as close as we’re going to get. Embarrassing and sad, really. No surprise Manchester is red and/or blue, really.

Prediction: Danny with his cosmo copy tucked under his arm throughout. One of two things will happen in this game: I’ve narrowed it down, now you do the math. If it’s not one of those, you only have yourself to blame. 0-0 United.

Benno (@Benglorious)

It’s been a strange week at Bifurcated Towers.  Lots have questions have been raised after we’ve had to deal with the fallout from that tweet from the last game in Preston: Is there a Quality Street in Wales?  Is there any way to find out?  Why do radiators and sinks need earthing?  If vegetable oil comes from vegetables, where does baby oil come from?  Aren’t all gifts “free”?  Why don’t we ever make any money?  I guess we’ll never know the answer to any of these questions.

Swansea are hosting United today.  If we don’t lose to them, we’ll have only lost one game in the last four hundred and will only be one hundred and sixteen points behind the leaders of the Premiership League, Chelsea.  All to play for, I think you’ll agree.

Dangermen in the Swansea team to look out for are Michu, who is worth the equivalent of one Michu; Garry Monk, the inventor of rhyming slang, and; Catherine Zeta Jones.

Prediction:  Vangle will stop messing around this week.  Four at the back with a midfield sapphire and one strikeman up front on his own for the whole match but with another strikeman playing alongside him at all times.  The starting eleven will make very interesting reading, and will, in this humble previewer’s humble opinion, consist of the exact following players:

• De Gea or Valdes
• Rafael or Valencia
• Jones and/or Evans and/or McNair and/or Smalling
• Rojo and/or Shaw and/or Young
• Di Maria and/or Herrera and/or Fellaini and/or Mata and/or Blind and/or Januzaj
• Falcao and/or RvP and/or Wilson
• Rooney

This combination will prove too much for the brave Swans who will suffer the biggest home defeat in their entire history.  1-0 Swansea.

Young Patrick was only too happy to talk to me as I pulled the staples out of his head one sunny afternoon.  His favourite things include cream cakes, seismology and the collected works of Charlaine Harris:

Tom (@tom_mcghee)

Completely done nothing – Benno, please just put MIA (black ops Da Nang) ta babes xx

Brett (@bifurcated_mufc)

Exactly how many games are there in a season anyway? It’s pretty shoddy that no-one’s keeping a record imo. It feels like all my precious time is taken up borrowing your* jokes to write one of these. Where’s my me time? I’ve got things to do: sleeping till midday doesn’t do itself. Eating. I’ve got to eat.** And … put the recycling out on a Tuesday night.

*yours not theirs.

**I had a paxo stuffing sandwich last night: Pre-heat oven to 7. Add hot tap water to paxo. Pour mix into whatever you can find that can go in the oven. After it smells like burning, remove from oven. Place between two slices of bread. Serve. Add tomato sauce to season.***

***Idea: ‘Bifurcatered’ spin off cookery series. Phil Collins, playing the part of me, goes round football fan’s houses, while they’re out watching the match, and makes sandwiches with their stuff.

In life people say you never get a second chance. Idiots. But for the point I’m making let’s say they’re right … so that’s why football is better than life; cos football has second legs and rebounds and retaken penalties and that. Imagine if you could replay that time, when you were eleven years old, and your mum dressed you up as a cheerleader at school, and you won the fancy dress competition, and then you were talking to the girl you really fancied for ages, and then you realised she didn’t realise you were actually a boy dressed up as a girl, and you were devastated. And resented your mum for the rest of your life. For example.

Replays … cheerleader… thought I was a girl … resent mum … ah yes … so this our second chance of the season to prove we are gooder than Swansea, after the delightful comic timing of a beating they gave us on Vangle’s wedding day.

Prediction: She’d still think I was a girl. 2-3 United.

Benno (@Benglorious)

After being forced to make a grovelling apology to the entire writer’s room at Bifurcated Towers for my serious preview last week (THAT WAS THE JOKE FFS), I am pleased to confirm that normal comedy service will be resumed this week after all my internet privileges were revoked and four of my fingers were broken “for your own good.  Now try and get linked on ESPN, you Judas.”

United visit Cambridge tonight (yes, it’s Friday.  No, I don’t know either.) in the next round of the FA Cup after their giant-killing of Yeovil in the previous game.  This should be a walkover for Vangle’s men as Cambridge traditionally only field nine players and one of those just sits on his arse shouting through a megaphone.  But seriously, Cambridge won’t know what’s hit them as they’ve only ever played one team before and they still both play in the same colour kits as each other:

-“Okay, we’re going to get blue shirts.”

-“That’s exactly what we were going to say.”

-“Well, unlucky.  We said it first so we get to be blue.”

-“Yeah, but we were thinking about it ages ago, like last month or something.”

-“Doesn’t matter, we said it so we get to be blue.”

-“We’re going to be blue as well, then.”

-“We can’t both be blue.”

-“Then you pick a different colour.  Brown’s nice.”

-“No way.  We want blue, we picked blue first, we are going to be blue.  You pick a different colour, there are literally mil…”

-“WE WANT BLUE!  YOU CAN’T STOP US HAVING BLUE SHIRTS!  YOU’LL JUST HAVE TO ACCEPT THE FACT THAT WE WILL BOTH BE PLAYING IN BLUE SHIRTS FROM NOW UNTIL THE BLOODY END OF TIME!”

-All right, calm yourself.  We can both play in blue.  Now then: do you want to be light blue or dark blue?”

FADE OUT

OUT

OUT

OUT

OUT

OUT

Prediction:  Vangle will listen to the dissident voices amongst United’s supporters and finally drop the 3-5-2.  He’ll completely mix things up by playing a classic 5-3-2, but will tweak this formation by employing the left- and right-back in more attacking roles and by placing an emphasis on possession.  Janaz… Janiszi… Jannozz…. that lad won’t be picked for that exact reason, so he won’t get the first goal.  Likewise, Hummels won’t play so he won’t score either.  Falcao will probably get a run-out at some point so let’s just say that he’ll score all six of United’s goals, and Virile Valdés will keep a clean sheet on his debut.  1-0 Cambridge.

Speaking of Victor…  On his recent tour around Bifurcated Towers, United’s newest signing was more than happy to discuss his three favourite things in the whole wide world-  1) Avocados;  b) Narrow boats; and, ***) 24 Hours in Police Custody:

Tom (@tom_mcghee)

Point blank refusing to do this cos it’s Friday and football doesn’t belong on Fridays.  Football should only be played on Saturday afternoons.  And Saturday evenings.  And Sundays.  And Monday nights.  And Tuesday nights.  And Wednesday nights.  And Thursday nights.  But NOT Fridays.

Prediction:  A combination of what those two jerk-offs say but whatever the correct score turns out to be.

Brett (@bifurcated_mufc)

If we’re playing The Us, who are the Us playing? Is it any wonder why seasons regularly go half finished, and year after year cups remain unclaimed with this kind of fixture mismanagement?

If Vangle wants to make ground on predecessor Moyles – and it’s patently obvious that he’s well jel –  he’s going to have to try his best to get a cup in the case; and the FA Cup now represents his only unrealistic chance. King Snackerton had already bagged the Charity Shield at this stage of his United bossagement and Prince Ringtwitch didn’t even get to the final of the season’s traditional curtain raiser. It’s also important to remember that the cheesy puff-eating maverick was still fighting in the Champions’ League this time last year, whereas, again, the old spasmodic sheriff’s badge-holder didn’t even see Europe’s premier competition as something worth entering. It’s this ineptitude, arrogance and stubbornness that the United fans seem to love so much, and so in many ways the legendary crisp gobbler was perhaps a victim of his own success…? Let’s hope that the pinched nipsy works out this 3-5-2 conundrum soon.

p.s if you’re reading this Louis, I’m no mather, but the answer is -4. Hope that helps you move on. So we all can.

I went to the Cambridge United website, so that I could add this anecdote: They have a player called Champion, whose name sounds familiar, but I just can’t place it. That wasn’t an anecdote. But this is getting my word count up.

Prediction: The Magic of the Cup is put on trial under the Trade Descriptions Act and gets a real grilling by the prosecution. The defence however performs poorly, the lawyer: a kind hearted unconventionally attractive soul played by him from that other film – one of life’s good guys – tries every trick he knows, but even his 20 minute heart-warming story of watching from the terraces with his since deceased father, does nothing to help his cause. Though there are a few tears in the public gallery. Mostly from his father. As the judge – played by ex-footballer Ronnie Radford – orders the jury from the court to make their final decision, the kind-hearted, unconventionally attractive lawyer is handed a note by a passing zephyr. Although initially confused, he promptly reads the note. Upon reading, he instantly pleads with the judge to let the defence call one last witness. The judge calls the opposing lawyers to the bench and raises his eyebrows: noting this as being highly unconventional practice, and, inevitably, the prosecution objects. The judge then after a few seconds of quiet contemplation makes a wisecrack to the court and jurors about how one more piece of evidence isn’t going to hurt anybody and overrules the prosecution’s objection; giving the kind-hearted, unconventionally attractive lawyer played by him from that other film permission to call one final witness after a short break. On their return to court the kind-hearted, unconventionally attractive lawyer played by him from that other film calls a frail older man to take the stand as shrieks of derision and laughter break out around the courtroom. The prosecution lawyer looks smug and cross-examines the witness with disdain – openly mocking the man, and the jurors lap it up. But when the kind-hearted, unconventionally attractive lawyer played by him from that other film starts to question his witness the court falls silent. The man becomes more animated and he begins to regale the courtroom with the stories he’s witnessed as a die-hard football supporter of some 3, or possibly 4, years. The judge stops him after a few seconds and points out to the man the difference between the definition, theory and interpretation of magic and things that just happen and are easily explained by things we can comprehend, without any actual suspension of belief. The man – obviously irritated by the judge’s condescending manner – grasps for a match from his pocket and strikes it in a dramatic manner, and, holding it aloft, draws a collective gasp from the gallery. He then throws the match into the air and creates a cloud with some talc he had in his other pocket and ducks down quickly, out of sight. The judge tells him to get up, because he can see him and he hasn’t actually disappeared. Security take the man away to be executed. The jury find the Magic of the Cup guilty of misleading the public. But as the judge retires to his quarters the camera stays on him. It’s a long way back through the winding corridors, but the camera stays on him. As the judge arrives at a door he pauses, makes sure he’s alone, then walks through the door as if it isn’t there. Credits roll.