Prediction: Goals for Lukaku and Big Dunc. 0-0 United.

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 (@tom_mcghee)

David Moyes sure does it bad.

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Aliens (1986)

James Cameron recreates Avatar (2009) shot-for-shot but before that and with good suspense and much better aliens. Hang on, is that why it’s called Aliens? I guess we’ll never know. Game over, man. That aside, pretty good.

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Prediction: One of three outcomes: win, lose or double lose i.e. play Fellaini as a serious footballer and not a fucking clownshoe. 0-0 United.

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(@bifurcated_utd)

When I last watched football I was a balding, lonely, 38 year old man, with just two clowns for not-in-real-life-just-on-the-internet friends … and look at me now!!

I’d like to reiterate how nice it would be if someone were to take Tom to the football today. Someone a bit murdery, or with murderous tendencies preferable.

Call me an old fashioner, but I like it when we have all the players i.e when we don’t have to pick a team that loses to Everton cos Ibrahimovic and Mourinho.

Prediction: We pick a team that loses to Everton cos Ibrahimovic and Mourinho. 0-0 United.

(@Benglorious)

Prediction: With Jones out, injured by Smalling, and Smalling out, injured by Jones, Mourinho has a real defensive dilemma on his hands which he can easily fix by replacing the unavailable pair with two other defenders. Mata is also out because he’s hurt his winky, which pretty much guarantees a start for Fellaini, which pretty much guarantees three points. Point one, finesse is right out. Point two, goals are right out. Point three, I’m going right out. 0-0 United.

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 (@tom_mcghee)

Made a path today. Only for the side of the house where no-one goes but the service engineer moaned last time so its basically just for him, the selfish cunt. Went for a rustic effect by using bricks I found in the outside walls of my own house, then tied it all together with pea-shingle and kiln sand (special sand, you’ve probably never heard of it in your London ivory towers). Looked pretty good to be honest, solid 8/10. That’ll be £600.

Logan (2017)

As close to my actual real life as a fictional film can be, I really liked it when he killed people brutally in their faces with his adamantium claws. Richard E Grant is terrible but you have to admire his consistency. The exact opposite of London = Bad, this was actually very good.

Prediction: 1-1. Lol, because of all the draws. Its not that funny. Brett to get Graham Gooch inspired hair plugs.

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(@bifurcated_utd)

When I last watched football I was a balding, lonely, 38 year old man, with just two clowns for not-in-real-life-just-on-the-internet friends … and look at me now!!

I’d like to reiterate how nice it would be if someone were to take Benno to the football today. Someone a bit murdery, or with murderous tendencies preferable.

Call me an old fashioner, but I like it when we have all the players i.e when we don’t have to pick a team that loses to West Bromwich Albion cos Rooney and Fellaini.

Really hope Tom falls my service engineer April Fool and makes a path for the side of the house where no-one goes. This is Paul.

Prediction: We pick a team that loses to West Bromwich Albion cos Rooney and Fellaini. 0-0 United.

That game had everything. Apart from everything that it didn’t.

Give Dave and Tony M everyone elses’ wages. Apart from all the people who have nothing to do with this professional football club.

Lol @ professional.

Five things we learned:

1. I liked it when Rooney ran into the post and I thought he had internal injuries.

2. I also liked it when Fellaini scored another perfect Fellaini goal.

3. Another thing I liked was when Dave saved it right up. See also: Tony M m’n it up all over the show.

4) I didn’t watch it but I imagine it was either brilliant, good, average, bad or utter shite.

5. I used . rather than ) At least one of us is gonna get a Pulitzer.

6. You’re a Pulitzer.

7. If you use ‘five’ instead of ‘5’ it ups your word count.

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 Benno (@Benglorious)

Seeing as our ruddy brave boys are in Bruges, I actually watched In Bruges (2008) for realsies. Crivens, there’s a lot of swears in it. You’d never think the main actor was the same guy who wrote the hit song ‘Happy’, although he did look quite pale and a lot fatter than I remember.

Opposition summary:

Club Brugge are Belgian so obviously the first thing that comes to mind is the classic Dad Game: Famous Belgians. The problem is that if you exclude Jean-Claude Van Damme, Hercule Poirot, Enzo Scifo, Sir Anthony van Dyck, Hergé’s Adventures of Tintin, Peter Paul Rubens, Kim Clijsters, Romelu Lukaku, Audrey Hepburn, René Magritte, Adolphe Sax, Georges Lemaître and Eden Hazard, you’re only left with Marouane Fellaini and Adnan Januzaj and apparently these both play for United. I’ve forgotten what my point was.

Prediction: 

Vangle to mix it up by playing his 10 as an 8, 6 as a 4, 9 as a holding 7, his 7 as a progressive 11, the 2 and 8 as a pivoting 3 and 5 but with funnelled support from the 5 who is now a 2 but would secretly like to be a 6 that used to be an overlapping 10. PHILOSOPHY. 0-0 United.

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  Tom (@tom_mcghee)

My review of Secret Wars so far: pretty good but think Doom is gonna get his comeuppance sooner than he thought. Despite all his good intentions.

My review of United’s season so far: pretty good but think LVG is gonna get his comeuppance sooner than he thought. Despite all his good intentions.

My preview for tonight: pretty good but think we may get our comeuppance sooner than we thought. Despite all our good intentions.

(In all these scenarios I see myself as Old Man Logan, negotiating his way through the sometimes baffling things he sees i.e. an Age of Apocalypse where his “dead” X-Men are alive and kicking,  a United side that seems determined not to play Ander Herrera. I should clarify I do not have an adamantium skeleton/claws but by typing ISIS, sure the CIA will flag this and get in touch)

Prediction: Logan to end up with young Jean Grey, Miles Morales to become *the* Spider-man. Never to use the word ‘comeuppance’ again. Di Maria to score his customary brace in a 0-0 home defeat.

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  Brett (@las)

I preferred Calvery and The Guard, the ones that the other brother did or something film knowledgey. I only use my telly for watching DVDs if the TV licensers ask you Mum, kay?

Note to self: Bloggerer idea… Some mileage in developing this Mum character; representing the comedic dichotomical counterpoint. No-one has ever thought of it. Mav. Love you. Love you more. Gedouddahere. No, you Gedouddahere. Etc

So long as Brugge also philosophise their strikers not to score, we should be alright. Unless you can get minus goals.

Just Wikd and nothing on minus goals.

Note to self: Business idea… gap in the foot sport market for minus goals. Genius. xx. Etc

Prediction: Danny with his cussing too. Vangle to philosophormorphise his boys into a team of awesome winners by playing the Rocky switcheroo. If he gets the VHS and notes my imaginary friend Kermit sent him in my dream. 0-0.

Remember to follow @Bifurcated_MBM on the Twitter for the best live coverage of all United games and also some of the worst live coverage of all United games. Sometimes we cover games that aren’t United but only because it gets very lonely.

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 Benno (@Benglorious)

Here we are again:  La pièce de résistance.  Così fan tutte.  Bodas de sangre.  Céad míle fáilte.  Vorsprung durch technik.  The meanings of all these phrases were lost with the destruction of Atlantis, but they still evoke feelings and stuff, sometimes towards football.  It’s been a long season, and it’s one I’m definitely glad to see the back of.  Even without European games, I’ve written more words for less money than I ever got at school for inventing the typewriter.  One game left.  One game to get the fifteen points needed to win the Premiership League and also hope that Chelsea lose to whichever team they’re playing… *Googles fixtures* … Next year, lads?

Prediction:  Vangle to get the whole team drunk and send them out to have fun.  Luckily, Steve Bruce has had the same idea, and the scheduled match quickly turns into the greatest game of Wembley Doubles the world will ever see.  The Falcao/Young pairing is the early favourite after some questionable, but good-natured, penalties and they are closely matched by Jelavic/Huddlestone.  The dark horses are the Jones/Fellaini combo, who muscle their way through to the semi-final because the referee can’t find his whistle after four tequila slammers and some cheap whizz.  The eventual winners are Mata and Herrera with the winning goal being a perfect demonstration of Juan nicking it by getting his bootlaces to touch Fellaini’s perfectly timed volley into the top corner.  1-0 Football:  It’s the real winner.

To celebrate our invincible season, I am delighted to be able to offer a limited run of prints to immortalise our finishing fourth.  These will be available in matt or gloss and are currently on sale in Madame Tussaud’s until they kick me out:

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 Tom (@tom_mcghee)

Off to Wembley to watch my new team, Presbyterian Southend.  Tell your disappointment to suck it.

Prediction:  Whatever the score is that sends Villa down.

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 Brett (@Thebrettthereisthebretttherewasandthebretttheremightbeagain)

The lights go out. Brett places the last chess piece. Gazes up
at Racquel. Smiles. Pulls the rope from under his pillow.
He stands and unbuttons his prison shirt, revealing Norton’s
gray pinstripe suit underneath. A FLASH OF LIGHTNING floods the
cell, throwing wild shadows.

The storm rages. Brett, naked, carefully slips Norton’s folded
suit into a large industrial Zip-Lock bag. Next to go in are the
shoes, chess pieces (already in a smaller bag), black ledger and
files. Last but not least, a bar of soap wrapped in a towel.

Brett, again wearing prison clothes, inches down the tunnel.

Brett squeezes through the hole head-first, emerges to the waist,
He reaches for the opposite wall, manages to snag a steel
conduit with his fingers.

Suddenly, a huge rat darts for his hand. Brett yanks away and
almost plummets head-first down the shaft. He dangles wildly
upside-down for a moment, arms windmilling, then gets his
hands pressed firmly against the opposite wall. The rat
scurries off, pissed.

Brett snags the conduit again. He contorts out of the hole and
dangles into the shaft. We now see the purpose for the rope: the
plastic bag hangs from his ankle with about two feet of slack.

He kicks his legs across the shaft, gets his feet braced. With
his back against one wall and feet against the other, he
starts down the shaft. Sliding dangerously. Using pipes for
handholds. Flinching as rats dart this way and that, scurrying
in the shadows. He drops the last few feet to the bottom.

He approaches the ceramic sewer pipe and kneels before it.
Pulls out the rock-hammer and says a quick silent prayer.
Raises the rock-hammer high and swings it down with all his
might. Once, twice — third time lucky. An enormous eruption
of sewage cascades into the air as if rocket-propelled, the
Mount St. Helens of shit. Brett is instantly coated black. He
turns away and heaves his guts out. The shit keeps coming.

Brett peers down through the hole, playing his penlight around,
The inside diameter is no more than two feet. Tight squeeze.
Coated with crud. It seems to go on for miles.

No turning back. He wriggles into the pipe and starts
crawling, plastic bag dragging behind.

*Benno and Tom Voice Over*
Brett crawled to freedom through
five hundred yards of shit-smelling
foulness us can’t even imagine. Or
maybe us just don’t want to.

Rain is falling in solid sheets. Shawshank is half a mile
distant. BOOM DOWN to reveal the creek…and PUSH IN toward the
mouth of the sewer pipe that feeds into it.

*Benno and Tom voice over*
Five hundred yards. The length of
five football fields. Just shy of
half a mile. wdgi.

Fingers appear, thrusting through the heavy-gauge wire mesh
covering the mouth of the pipe. Brett’s face looms from the
darkness, peering out at freedom. He wrenches the mesh loose,
pushes himself out, and plunges head-first into the creek. He
comes up sputtering for breath. The water is waist-deep.

He wades upstream, ripping his clothes from his body. He gets
his shirt off, spins it through the air over his head, flings
the shirt away. He raises his arms to the sky, turning slowly,
feeling the rain washing him clean. Exultant. Triumphant. A
FLASH OF LIGHTNING arcs from horizon to horizon.

Prediction: Brett wakes up unconscious in the shower. It was a dream about that film with More than Freeman. And whatever the score that makes Newcastle dead.

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Remember to follow @Bifurcated_MBM on the Twitter for the best live coverage of all United games and also some of the worst live coverage of all United games and also sometimes no coverage at all, good or bad, of any United games.  That last one is the most likely.

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 Benno (@Benglorious)

In lieu of a preview this week, I’m instead going to pay my respects to the best central midfielder the Premiership League has ever seen if you don’t count Keane, Scholes, Lampard, Vieira and Batty.  The platitudes have been coming thick and fast for Gerrard all week, so I thought I’d show my appreciation with a poem:

Steven

Drive boy, dog boy,

Dirty numb angel boy.

In the doorway boy,

She was a lipstick boy.

She was a beautiful boy,

And tears boy,

And all in your innerspace boy.

You had hands, girl boy,

and steel boy.

You had chemicals boy

I’ve grown so close to you, Boy,

And you just groan boy

She said “come over, come over”

She smiled at you, boy.

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Prediction:  Roondog and Falcor to finally disprove the haters with the best double-act since Iscariot and Pilate.  Two goals apiece, and Fellaini goes a whole ninety minutes without fouling anyone except himself, for which he then gets sent off.  Young recreates his pearler from the 8-2 game, but this time it’s a scuff off his shin via his face.  1-0 Arsenal.

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 Tom (@tom_mcghee)

Not writing in protest of Wenger’s refusal to acknowledge all those Christmas cards I’ve sent him.  He’s dead to me now.

Prediction:  Goals for both teams unless one or both of them don’t score.  1-1 United.

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 Brett (@SharpeningHisShiv)

Had to confess to the prison pastor today.  It feels good to finally admit I didn’t post all those Christmas cards to the Emirates and instead spent the stamp money on sweet Mexican black tar heroin.

Prediction:  Tiny O’Malley and his crew to ambush the Riley Boys in the D-Wing common room to establish who runs the cribbage tournament.  2-1 United.

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Remember to follow @Bifurcated_MBM on the Twitter for the best live coverage of all United games and also some of the worst live coverage of all United games and also sometimes no coverage at all, good or bad, of any United games.  That last one is the most likely and the best for all involved.