The lunatic is on the grass.
It’s ok though, international break is nearly here to save your weekends once more from the peril of Everton. The utter fucking shitehawks.
It’s also apparently the final game of Unsworth’s 4 game trial, the preceding 3 bringing defeats and two cup exits. Which was harsh timing on our generously-built-top-wool- as any pair of hands would have struggled.
But that’s your top flight football, baby. It’s a results business. Tough at the top. And all over fucking cliches you can think of, of which a few more will follow in a genuine dog’s turd of a preview to reflect accurately on this modern Everton team.
The Lyon and Leicester games accurately portrayed an Everton team devoid of backbone. As soon as a goal is conceded there would be a gigantic fork ran onto the pitch to poke out players one by one until death. There’s just nothing about them. They can’t keep clean sheets, they can’t score goals, and they can barely fight as a unit. It’s absolutely fucking terrifying that nearly £200m can be spent in one calendar year on a team to make them so pathetic.
To get to this particular crisis point has been a result of multiple failures, with Koeman paying the price but there have naturally been others. If they identify themselves as contributing to this shitstorm then they have some making up to do or a similar fate will follow them.
Because hankering for people in your sport’s team to lose their livelihood is so 2017. Our entitlement inflamed, we rate our perception so highly that we can critique a billion dollar business based on what we assume and gossip which may or may not be true.
The truth is that there is no club that has a right to evade relegation. That we’ve managed that successfully more than anyone else doesn’t mean it won’t come around to our door, as we witnessed in 1994 and 1997. With lots of blame flying around everyone and everything is easy game including at the fans ourselves. Fuck knows. I’d wager that the scrutinising nature of Evertonians and our almost fatalistic appreciation of the Greek tragedy that regularly consumes us works in both ways. But it is better noting that we are in deep fucking shit in October and doing something about it before it gets to an irreparable state. And if the dam breaks open many years too soon, you know where I’ll see you.
Watford come to town enjoying a buoyant season under new manager Marco Silva, who naturally Everton are throwing the eyes at. There’s no way he will end up at Everton right now as he’s merely a matter of months into a new job and there’s too much tangible risk in taking this Everton job for a swanky foreign who has designs on an elevatory career path. We’re not the lily pad you want to step on right now if you’re striving to make the fresh meadows on the other side.
I’d usually try and find some sort of unfair angle with a stereotype on the opposition right now but Everton are sucking all of my powers of despisement towards themselves rather than who were playing. There’s plenty to like about Watford as a club too, not least them running out to Z cars and being a club that proudly represents a parochial working class support.
Yes it is indeed true that the likes of Watford, Luton, Northampton and all those shite towns in wool-London are a breeding ground for Tommy Robinson types. It is also true that there is fervent England support and the type of poolside behaviour in your Canary Island hotel that affirms your shameful opinion on nondescript shit southern town inhabitants. People from Watford go to Tenerife rather than Lanzarote. You know that type. They’re sat in Linekers bar with hideous tattoos and red shoulders at 11.24am trying to create banter with the barman, who smiles pleasantly while zeroing in on his plans to seduce their 18 year old daugher.
There’s Watford there with three lions swim shorts and Reebok Classics beating a path down the sea front trying to build rapport with the lucky lucky men by altering his accent to a cringey Jamaican patois – despite the lucky lucky men being from west coast Africa. “Grassy arse” to the the Moroccans serving him that most traditional Spanish cuisine of club sandwich and fries. The soft bell can’t wait to tell anyone sat next to him that he’s self employed, as he fits a few carpets every month.
There’s fucking Watford on a jetski thinking he’s in a Miami Vice cutscene. Kicking a cockroach on the half volley in front of the kids and screaming LUTHER BLISSETT GOOOOOOOL as he runs down Los Cristianos high street with his shirt over his head, not giving a fuck that he is disturbing other people’s senses visually, audibly and their sense of smell on account of being drenched in jarg Calvin Klein Eternity that he haggled for 4 euros earlier that day. The same scent that comes from a group of Spanish students pissing into the vat knowing some poor sunseeker is gonna splash it all over his neck and think he’s sound.
There’s Watford, the acute minority who creates the stereotype for all the really sound normal British folk who fancy a quick week in the sun and to appreciate different sights, sounds and foreign culture. But we’re not doing stereotypes as Everton are shit.
Here’s some of their players:
Deeney – not playing because he strangled Joe Allen and perhaps because he looks like a big ET headed biff who is still cutting his milk teeth.
Richarlison – I never know about this lad until 3 mins ago reading some media previews so I can pretend I know anything about other teams. He’ll score a brace and no mistake.
Cleverley – tell yer fat dar who abused him mercilessly as some sort of paranoid devious Martinez plot that I hope Tom absolutely fucks us. His taunting celebration in front of the Lower Bullens prompting yer dar to fuck us right off and go and support whoever Lukaku is playing, the bitter arl fuck.
You know what, I’ve just searched unsuccessfully for Watford players in the past few minutes and apart from two above I don’t know any of them. They’ve loads of names of players that sound like Pro Evo before an option file update. And despite that they’ll still beat us with ease.
So who will they be beating? Rooney was rested so will start. Where and how deep he plays will be for you to lament and moan at. Calvert-Lewin may get another chance to twat his confidence or maybe Niasse rested too midweek may get a go. I’d like to see Vlasic in the mix somewhere as at least he affects the game.
I once loved Schneiderlin and although a brief love it was intense and now I feel dirty and used. Because of that expect more from Gueye, Davies and co in the middle. On current viewing the first name should be Baningime but only David Unsworth has the answers.
I don’t care who’s at the back I just wanted them to stop conceding goals. Pickford is sound so imagine how fuming we are gonna be losing him next season as we’re relegated like Sunderland were.
The preview is absent of manager chat as I genuinely don’t have a fucking clue who I’d want. Just some form of leader who makes an impact and isn’t scared of ruffling feathers of the established staff to sort what seems like a permanent malaise out. Francis Underwood isn’t available right now so I’ll leave that in the hands of those who run the club and have their money invested in it.
So this out the way and then two beautiful weeks without an Everton performance troubling your mood. You lock the door and throw away the key. There’s someone in my head but it’s not me.
See you there.