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Warning the following story is 3/4 real and 1/4 edited. Most parts are either extremely exaggerated and should not be taken offensively.
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Sunday the second of March. The day of the Worthington Cup final. I (a united fan) did not think to much of the final during the days leading up to the it. Yet, little did I know before the day had even begun I was suddenly thrusted into a merseyside pub to watch the game. Luckily for me though, I was on the otherside of the water. Thinking about, if I even walked on Liverpool turf during that day then i probably would of been sleeping with the polluted fish of the mersey that night;
And the shocking headlines this morning,
A Merseyside man has been found dead in the murky, rusty waters of the river Mersey. The man had been beaten 30000 times by a blunt object and then tossed into the river. Co-incidentally, the man was wearing a red Manchester United shirt. Experts say that this had nothing to do with the fact that United played Liverpool that day in the Worthington cup final.
Anyway. Before I could get a drink, the whistle had already blown. All i could hear was "get the Manc C**ts". "C'mon Liderpool!" Without even breathing I just zipped my top up which thankfully concealed my jersey and then I stared at the large screen which already had everyones attention. It was end-to-end stuff and my heart was throbbing like a Drunk Buffalo on a bouncy castle.
All of sudden Giggs won back the ball and squared it off for Van Nistelrooy who managed to get a foot on the ball and just touch it pasted the post. It was the quitest your ever gonna get a bunch of half tanked Kopites in a pub. The only noise to be heard was a few Evertonians who were watching just to jinx Liverpool out of a trophy, a mouse fart and my Stomache because if it went in and i jumped up to celebrate, i would of flew back down faster than then when i went up credible to a fat scouser's fist.
I sat up and tryed to relax. Then I smelt the smell of poo. I looked around suspiciously and also half guiltily yet trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. I wasn't that scared was I? Did I actually excrete? Then I remebered that on my way up with my kopite chums who bottled me up to go in to the pub, I stood in dog crap. Crude I know but thats life. Have you ever just thought that the dog relieved itself in that exact spot just in spite of the fact I was going to walk through it? That was really a metaphor for the whole day. Conveniently yet in-conveniently the horrific smell marked off a Gerrard goal. The cheers coupled with the vibrations and rumbles due to a load of scousers jumping up and down was like a bolt of lightning through my chest.
Then the referee blowed his whistle for half-time. The cold between the two halves was like the tension between World War I and World War II. At least I had time to get a drink anyway. Soon the game resumed and united were troubling the Liverpool Keeper, Dudek all over the show. There was an old man sitting behind me who had something to say about everything.
"Barthez actually saved one did he? Get your cameras."
"Keane is dirty. He puts in dirty tackles, plays for a dirty team and has released a dirty book."
The infuriating rage which was keeping together my sanity was being seriously tested. Mean while Dudek was being praised for his courageous saves. And chances were being created thick and fast for both teams. But all of a sudden, misery struck.
The pooey smell come back. Big time. When Michael Owen slotted home the second, what was left of my frail and decreasing morale and confidence became shattered like a brick through a window. As soon as the game finished I left.
We have an update on the man found in the mersey. Forensics say that the wounds he dyed from were of a broken heart and a collapsed pride due to the two goals scored by Michael Owen and Steven Gerrard.
R.I.P Malcior
Warning the following story is 3/4 real and 1/4 edited. Most parts are either extremely exaggerated and should not be taken offensively.
----------------------------
Sunday the second of March. The day of the Worthington Cup final. I (a united fan) did not think to much of the final during the days leading up to the it. Yet, little did I know before the day had even begun I was suddenly thrusted into a merseyside pub to watch the game. Luckily for me though, I was on the otherside of the water. Thinking about, if I even walked on Liverpool turf during that day then i probably would of been sleeping with the polluted fish of the mersey that night;
And the shocking headlines this morning,
A Merseyside man has been found dead in the murky, rusty waters of the river Mersey. The man had been beaten 30000 times by a blunt object and then tossed into the river. Co-incidentally, the man was wearing a red Manchester United shirt. Experts say that this had nothing to do with the fact that United played Liverpool that day in the Worthington cup final.
Anyway. Before I could get a drink, the whistle had already blown. All i could hear was "get the Manc C**ts". "C'mon Liderpool!" Without even breathing I just zipped my top up which thankfully concealed my jersey and then I stared at the large screen which already had everyones attention. It was end-to-end stuff and my heart was throbbing like a Drunk Buffalo on a bouncy castle.
All of sudden Giggs won back the ball and squared it off for Van Nistelrooy who managed to get a foot on the ball and just touch it pasted the post. It was the quitest your ever gonna get a bunch of half tanked Kopites in a pub. The only noise to be heard was a few Evertonians who were watching just to jinx Liverpool out of a trophy, a mouse fart and my Stomache because if it went in and i jumped up to celebrate, i would of flew back down faster than then when i went up credible to a fat scouser's fist.
I sat up and tryed to relax. Then I smelt the smell of poo. I looked around suspiciously and also half guiltily yet trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. I wasn't that scared was I? Did I actually excrete? Then I remebered that on my way up with my kopite chums who bottled me up to go in to the pub, I stood in dog crap. Crude I know but thats life. Have you ever just thought that the dog relieved itself in that exact spot just in spite of the fact I was going to walk through it? That was really a metaphor for the whole day. Conveniently yet in-conveniently the horrific smell marked off a Gerrard goal. The cheers coupled with the vibrations and rumbles due to a load of scousers jumping up and down was like a bolt of lightning through my chest.
Then the referee blowed his whistle for half-time. The cold between the two halves was like the tension between World War I and World War II. At least I had time to get a drink anyway. Soon the game resumed and united were troubling the Liverpool Keeper, Dudek all over the show. There was an old man sitting behind me who had something to say about everything.
"Barthez actually saved one did he? Get your cameras."
"Keane is dirty. He puts in dirty tackles, plays for a dirty team and has released a dirty book."
The infuriating rage which was keeping together my sanity was being seriously tested. Mean while Dudek was being praised for his courageous saves. And chances were being created thick and fast for both teams. But all of a sudden, misery struck.
The pooey smell come back. Big time. When Michael Owen slotted home the second, what was left of my frail and decreasing morale and confidence became shattered like a brick through a window. As soon as the game finished I left.
We have an update on the man found in the mersey. Forensics say that the wounds he dyed from were of a broken heart and a collapsed pride due to the two goals scored by Michael Owen and Steven Gerrard.
R.I.P Malcior
Yeah well you know
*straigtens suit*
i have been known for my mad trades.
:ŹD
*straigtens suit*
i have been known for my mad trades.
:ŹD
Eeew, you stepped in dog poo?
Heh, you had guts going into the pub with everyone supporting the oppisite team to you.
Heh, you had guts going into the pub with everyone supporting the oppisite team to you.
----------------------------
Warning the following story is 3/4 real and 1/4 edited. Most parts are either extremely exaggerated and should not be taken offensively.
----------------------------
Sunday the second of March. The day of the Worthington Cup final. I (a united fan) did not think to much of the final during the days leading up to the it. Yet, little did I know before the day had even begun I was suddenly thrusted into a merseyside pub to watch the game. Luckily for me though, I was on the otherside of the water. Thinking about, if I even walked on Liverpool turf during that day then i probably would of been sleeping with the polluted fish of the mersey that night;
And the shocking headlines this morning,
A Merseyside man has been found dead in the murky, rusty waters of the river Mersey. The man had been beaten 30000 times by a blunt object and then tossed into the river. Co-incidentally, the man was wearing a red Manchester United shirt. Experts say that this had nothing to do with the fact that United played Liverpool that day in the Worthington cup final.
Anyway. Before I could get a drink, the whistle had already blown. All i could hear was "get the Manc C**ts". "C'mon Liderpool!" Without even breathing I just zipped my top up which thankfully concealed my jersey and then I stared at the large screen which already had everyones attention. It was end-to-end stuff and my heart was throbbing like a Drunk Buffalo on a bouncy castle.
All of sudden Giggs won back the ball and squared it off for Van Nistelrooy who managed to get a foot on the ball and just touch it pasted the post. It was the quitest your ever gonna get a bunch of half tanked Kopites in a pub. The only noise to be heard was a few Evertonians who were watching just to jinx Liverpool out of a trophy, a mouse fart and my Stomache because if it went in and i jumped up to celebrate, i would of flew back down faster than then when i went up credible to a fat scouser's fist.
I sat up and tryed to relax. Then I smelt the smell of poo. I looked around suspiciously and also half guiltily yet trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. I wasn't that scared was I? Did I actually excrete? Then I remebered that on my way up with my kopite chums who bottled me up to go in to the pub, I stood in dog crap. Crude I know but thats life. Have you ever just thought that the dog relieved itself in that exact spot just in spite of the fact I was going to walk through it? That was really a metaphor for the whole day. Conveniently yet in-conveniently the horrific smell marked off a Gerrard goal. The cheers coupled with the vibrations and rumbles due to a load of scousers jumping up and down was like a bolt of lightning through my chest.
Then the referee blowed his whistle for half-time. The cold between the two halves was like the tension between World War I and World War II. At least I had time to get a drink anyway. Soon the game resumed and united were troubling the Liverpool Keeper, Dudek all over the show. There was an old man sitting behind me who had something to say about everything.
"Barthez actually saved one did he? Get your cameras."
"Keane is dirty. He puts in dirty tackles, plays for a dirty team and has released a dirty book."
The infuriating rage which was keeping together my sanity was being seriously tested. Mean while Dudek was being praised for his courageous saves. And chances were being created thick and fast for both teams. But all of a sudden, misery struck.
The pooey smell come back. Big time. When Michael Owen slotted home the second, what was left of my frail and decreasing morale and confidence became shattered like a brick through a window. As soon as the game finished I left.
We have an update on the man found in the mersey. Forensics say that the wounds he dyed from were of a broken heart and a collapsed pride due to the two goals scored by Michael Owen and Steven Gerrard.
R.I.P Malcior
Warning the following story is 3/4 real and 1/4 edited. Most parts are either extremely exaggerated and should not be taken offensively.
----------------------------
Sunday the second of March. The day of the Worthington Cup final. I (a united fan) did not think to much of the final during the days leading up to the it. Yet, little did I know before the day had even begun I was suddenly thrusted into a merseyside pub to watch the game. Luckily for me though, I was on the otherside of the water. Thinking about, if I even walked on Liverpool turf during that day then i probably would of been sleeping with the polluted fish of the mersey that night;
And the shocking headlines this morning,
A Merseyside man has been found dead in the murky, rusty waters of the river Mersey. The man had been beaten 30000 times by a blunt object and then tossed into the river. Co-incidentally, the man was wearing a red Manchester United shirt. Experts say that this had nothing to do with the fact that United played Liverpool that day in the Worthington cup final.
Anyway. Before I could get a drink, the whistle had already blown. All i could hear was "get the Manc C**ts". "C'mon Liderpool!" Without even breathing I just zipped my top up which thankfully concealed my jersey and then I stared at the large screen which already had everyones attention. It was end-to-end stuff and my heart was throbbing like a Drunk Buffalo on a bouncy castle.
All of sudden Giggs won back the ball and squared it off for Van Nistelrooy who managed to get a foot on the ball and just touch it pasted the post. It was the quitest your ever gonna get a bunch of half tanked Kopites in a pub. The only noise to be heard was a few Evertonians who were watching just to jinx Liverpool out of a trophy, a mouse fart and my Stomache because if it went in and i jumped up to celebrate, i would of flew back down faster than then when i went up credible to a fat scouser's fist.
I sat up and tryed to relax. Then I smelt the smell of poo. I looked around suspiciously and also half guiltily yet trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. I wasn't that scared was I? Did I actually excrete? Then I remebered that on my way up with my kopite chums who bottled me up to go in to the pub, I stood in dog crap. Crude I know but thats life. Have you ever just thought that the dog relieved itself in that exact spot just in spite of the fact I was going to walk through it? That was really a metaphor for the whole day. Conveniently yet in-conveniently the horrific smell marked off a Gerrard goal. The cheers coupled with the vibrations and rumbles due to a load of scousers jumping up and down was like a bolt of lightning through my chest.
Then the referee blowed his whistle for half-time. The cold between the two halves was like the tension between World War I and World War II. At least I had time to get a drink anyway. Soon the game resumed and united were troubling the Liverpool Keeper, Dudek all over the show. There was an old man sitting behind me who had something to say about everything.
"Barthez actually saved one did he? Get your cameras."
"Keane is dirty. He puts in dirty tackles, plays for a dirty team and has released a dirty book."
The infuriating rage which was keeping together my sanity was being seriously tested. Mean while Dudek was being praised for his courageous saves. And chances were being created thick and fast for both teams. But all of a sudden, misery struck.
The pooey smell come back. Big time. When Michael Owen slotted home the second, what was left of my frail and decreasing morale and confidence became shattered like a brick through a window. As soon as the game finished I left.
We have an update on the man found in the mersey. Forensics say that the wounds he dyed from were of a broken heart and a collapsed pride due to the two goals scored by Michael Owen and Steven Gerrard.
R.I.P Malcior