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“Henrik, I think this is the question on most peoples minds, you’ve won the league this year, your in the final of the uefa cup for the second year running, so, will this be your last game at Park Head.” It was Chick Young that uttered those words, the words that no Celtic supporter wanted to hear but yet every one of them wanted to here the same answer. The conversation was on the big screens at either end of the pitch and it was being watched by most of Scotland at home on their TV’s.
Henrik had grown his hair long in memory of his first games at Park Head. He lifted his head. Looked into the camera. And spoke. “ Celtic Football Club, is…” A tear filled his eyes but he continued. “Celtic Football Club, is perfect. It has nothing it does not need and it has everything it does need. I spent the best years of my life here, at Park Head and no one can take that away from any of us but yes this will be the last game that I play at Park Head. I return home to Sweden to train young boys and tell them that Scotland and Celtic have the greatest football support in the world. Others may argue but they are wrong. I will give the fans, everything I have next Thursday, when we play Inter Milan. Thank you to every one and good bye!”
“No, Henrik, Park Head, thanks you. Good Bye”
“Henrik Larsson, Henrik Larsson, Henrik Larsson is the king of kings!” The crowd cheered and sang and cried at the same time and when the final whistle blew: There was silence, for the first time ever in Park Head. The respectful away support never said anything because they knew that the Celtic fans loved Henrik. The away team left the pitch but the Celtic team and management stayed on the field. And again they were told this is it. Most people bowed their head and cried to them selves. But some noticed a young boy talking to a security, trying to get onto the pitch. Eventually he was allowed on and not one person tried to stop him. He went to Martin O’Neil and I microphone was brought to him.
He quietly said “ Don’t cry because he is leaving us, sing for him because he came!” Henrik approached the boy and shook his hand and the home support of 59,429 sang to their hero. They sang to their King. They sang to their God.
“You are my Larsson, My only Larsson, you make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know how much I love you. Oh, so please don’t take him away.”
“Down, Down, Down.” A huge man was running for Larsson. Telling him to crouch. Running faster. And then he jumped. And “Uhhhhhhh” took a bullet in the chest to save Henrik. He was a bodyguard but he did nothing that any other man or boy or women in crowed would not have done. There were screams of terror all over the ground. As police rushed about the place. Henrik was escorted into a safer part of the stadium. The bodyguard was dead seconds later.
Everyone was told to stay seated and calm. Most of the country was watching it live because the match was on the tele. Outside people were watching a man absailling down the side of the stadium and hoping into a car. A few chased him but he got away. He cared a sniper rifle. The Black Escort never waited a moment longer than it had to. It was gaining speed. If it was lost the man would never be found. The chase was on. Police cars were no-where in sight but one man (a strong Celtic supporter) was leaping into his car. Both cars swerved in and out of the busy traffic. If the vigilante couldn’t catch him, he would never be found because nothing was none of him. The black escort was losing the man. But he never slowed. When he lost the following car, he drove quickly, but not so he drew attention to himself, to a dock, where two men stepped out and strolled over to a small ship and walked in. The other car that they thought they had lost was still following. A few moments later it arrived. And the tall, pale man that had chased them so hopefully stepped out as the ship left the dock. He saw an old man sleeping beside a small speedboat. He jumped on board and found the keys in the ignition. He started it up and noticed a harpoon behind him. He grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder. Along with that and the small penknife he had, he considered himself armed for a fight.
The smaller boat quickly gained speed and caught up with the fishing ship. He took his harpoon off his shoulder as he lined up for the jump over to the other ship. A short man emerged from the boat pointing a pistol and threating to shoot. The courage’s man grabbed the harpoon at flung it at the man lick a javelin. It hit his chest. He fell to the floor. Quickly the vigilante jumped onto the fishing ship and checked the man was dead. He picked up his harpoon and started to search the lower decks. There he found the sniper, with another pistol. The sniper was pointing the gun at the man who had a Celtic strip on. “I prefer to kill my prey slowly.” He shot the vigilante in the leg. He fell. And the sniper approached him. The sniper held the pistol to our hero’s chest. Cocked it. And with one brave movment the injured man sweeped his hand away, pushed him over, and jumped on top of him. He pulled his penknife out and stabbed him in the gut. Found rope and tied the bleading man up and put him in a locked cupboard. He turned the boat around and docked it. Police were waiting but so was most of the countries press. He placed his hand on the handle. Turned it slowly. Pushed it open. And stepped out, onto land again. Flashes blinded his eyes as he hoppled into an ambulance and was carted away to a hospital.
“ The police believe that this was an act of terrorism. An Irish Protestant tried to do assassinate Henrik Larsson because he plays for Celtic Football Club, a Catholic based football team.” Read the news report. “Celtic were dew to take part in the final of the uefa cup but Martin O’Neil has asked that the game be postponed for a week dew to this incident. The sniper, nick named, Sparticus, because he nearly killed the Son of God or at least that’s what a Celtic Support would tell you, is in custody and is being interrogated as we speak.
“This has been a tremendous game. 0-0 as we go into the 89th minute. Man of the Match is Robert Douglas because he has made some of the best saves I have ever seen. Will Celtic fare better in extra time this year than they did last year. Oh, wait maybe they wont have to. Chris Sutton is making a run towards goal he’s being closely chased by the Inter Milan defender. He’s out side the box and he’s about to take his shot. Huuuuuuu.” The commentator drew a deep breath as Chris Sutton was fouled out side the box. “ That was Celtic’s best chance of the night but they have a free kick in a perfect position. Henrik Larsson will take it. Three steps back.” The whole stadium held their breath as Henrik made his run. “He’s pulled the trigger. It low, it fast, it’s a goal. YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS” The crowd went mental, ballistic, crazy. “They deserve this. All they have to do is hold up a few more minutes and the cup is theirs, eventually.” And they did. Henrik left Celtic with the biggest bang in football history. He said that’s what he always wanted to do.
Henrik had grown his hair long in memory of his first games at Park Head. He lifted his head. Looked into the camera. And spoke. “ Celtic Football Club, is…” A tear filled his eyes but he continued. “Celtic Football Club, is perfect. It has nothing it does not need and it has everything it does need. I spent the best years of my life here, at Park Head and no one can take that away from any of us but yes this will be the last game that I play at Park Head. I return home to Sweden to train young boys and tell them that Scotland and Celtic have the greatest football support in the world. Others may argue but they are wrong. I will give the fans, everything I have next Thursday, when we play Inter Milan. Thank you to every one and good bye!”
“No, Henrik, Park Head, thanks you. Good Bye”
“Henrik Larsson, Henrik Larsson, Henrik Larsson is the king of kings!” The crowd cheered and sang and cried at the same time and when the final whistle blew: There was silence, for the first time ever in Park Head. The respectful away support never said anything because they knew that the Celtic fans loved Henrik. The away team left the pitch but the Celtic team and management stayed on the field. And again they were told this is it. Most people bowed their head and cried to them selves. But some noticed a young boy talking to a security, trying to get onto the pitch. Eventually he was allowed on and not one person tried to stop him. He went to Martin O’Neil and I microphone was brought to him.
He quietly said “ Don’t cry because he is leaving us, sing for him because he came!” Henrik approached the boy and shook his hand and the home support of 59,429 sang to their hero. They sang to their King. They sang to their God.
“You are my Larsson, My only Larsson, you make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know how much I love you. Oh, so please don’t take him away.”
“Down, Down, Down.” A huge man was running for Larsson. Telling him to crouch. Running faster. And then he jumped. And “Uhhhhhhh” took a bullet in the chest to save Henrik. He was a bodyguard but he did nothing that any other man or boy or women in crowed would not have done. There were screams of terror all over the ground. As police rushed about the place. Henrik was escorted into a safer part of the stadium. The bodyguard was dead seconds later.
Everyone was told to stay seated and calm. Most of the country was watching it live because the match was on the tele. Outside people were watching a man absailling down the side of the stadium and hoping into a car. A few chased him but he got away. He cared a sniper rifle. The Black Escort never waited a moment longer than it had to. It was gaining speed. If it was lost the man would never be found. The chase was on. Police cars were no-where in sight but one man (a strong Celtic supporter) was leaping into his car. Both cars swerved in and out of the busy traffic. If the vigilante couldn’t catch him, he would never be found because nothing was none of him. The black escort was losing the man. But he never slowed. When he lost the following car, he drove quickly, but not so he drew attention to himself, to a dock, where two men stepped out and strolled over to a small ship and walked in. The other car that they thought they had lost was still following. A few moments later it arrived. And the tall, pale man that had chased them so hopefully stepped out as the ship left the dock. He saw an old man sleeping beside a small speedboat. He jumped on board and found the keys in the ignition. He started it up and noticed a harpoon behind him. He grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder. Along with that and the small penknife he had, he considered himself armed for a fight.
The smaller boat quickly gained speed and caught up with the fishing ship. He took his harpoon off his shoulder as he lined up for the jump over to the other ship. A short man emerged from the boat pointing a pistol and threating to shoot. The courage’s man grabbed the harpoon at flung it at the man lick a javelin. It hit his chest. He fell to the floor. Quickly the vigilante jumped onto the fishing ship and checked the man was dead. He picked up his harpoon and started to search the lower decks. There he found the sniper, with another pistol. The sniper was pointing the gun at the man who had a Celtic strip on. “I prefer to kill my prey slowly.” He shot the vigilante in the leg. He fell. And the sniper approached him. The sniper held the pistol to our hero’s chest. Cocked it. And with one brave movment the injured man sweeped his hand away, pushed him over, and jumped on top of him. He pulled his penknife out and stabbed him in the gut. Found rope and tied the bleading man up and put him in a locked cupboard. He turned the boat around and docked it. Police were waiting but so was most of the countries press. He placed his hand on the handle. Turned it slowly. Pushed it open. And stepped out, onto land again. Flashes blinded his eyes as he hoppled into an ambulance and was carted away to a hospital.
“ The police believe that this was an act of terrorism. An Irish Protestant tried to do assassinate Henrik Larsson because he plays for Celtic Football Club, a Catholic based football team.” Read the news report. “Celtic were dew to take part in the final of the uefa cup but Martin O’Neil has asked that the game be postponed for a week dew to this incident. The sniper, nick named, Sparticus, because he nearly killed the Son of God or at least that’s what a Celtic Support would tell you, is in custody and is being interrogated as we speak.
“This has been a tremendous game. 0-0 as we go into the 89th minute. Man of the Match is Robert Douglas because he has made some of the best saves I have ever seen. Will Celtic fare better in extra time this year than they did last year. Oh, wait maybe they wont have to. Chris Sutton is making a run towards goal he’s being closely chased by the Inter Milan defender. He’s out side the box and he’s about to take his shot. Huuuuuuu.” The commentator drew a deep breath as Chris Sutton was fouled out side the box. “ That was Celtic’s best chance of the night but they have a free kick in a perfect position. Henrik Larsson will take it. Three steps back.” The whole stadium held their breath as Henrik made his run. “He’s pulled the trigger. It low, it fast, it’s a goal. YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS” The crowd went mental, ballistic, crazy. “They deserve this. All they have to do is hold up a few more minutes and the cup is theirs, eventually.” And they did. Henrik left Celtic with the biggest bang in football history. He said that’s what he always wanted to do.
You tell me and I will tell you
translation- I didnt read it
translation- I didnt read it
What is so funny about it?
Now that must of boosted your word count.
An Irish protestant? I didn't know there was such a person! I've never come across one, thats for sure!
May the 16th?
Laughing
My
Ass
Off
My
Ass
Off
LMAO?
Lmao.
Couldn't be bothered reading it, can you just tell me the basic storyline?
“Henrik, I think this is the question on most peoples minds, you’ve won the league this year, your in the final of the uefa cup for the second year running, so, will this be your last game at Park Head.” It was Chick Young that uttered those words, the words that no Celtic supporter wanted to hear but yet every one of them wanted to here the same answer. The conversation was on the big screens at either end of the pitch and it was being watched by most of Scotland at home on their TV’s.
Henrik had grown his hair long in memory of his first games at Park Head. He lifted his head. Looked into the camera. And spoke. “ Celtic Football Club, is…” A tear filled his eyes but he continued. “Celtic Football Club, is perfect. It has nothing it does not need and it has everything it does need. I spent the best years of my life here, at Park Head and no one can take that away from any of us but yes this will be the last game that I play at Park Head. I return home to Sweden to train young boys and tell them that Scotland and Celtic have the greatest football support in the world. Others may argue but they are wrong. I will give the fans, everything I have next Thursday, when we play Inter Milan. Thank you to every one and good bye!”
“No, Henrik, Park Head, thanks you. Good Bye”
“Henrik Larsson, Henrik Larsson, Henrik Larsson is the king of kings!” The crowd cheered and sang and cried at the same time and when the final whistle blew: There was silence, for the first time ever in Park Head. The respectful away support never said anything because they knew that the Celtic fans loved Henrik. The away team left the pitch but the Celtic team and management stayed on the field. And again they were told this is it. Most people bowed their head and cried to them selves. But some noticed a young boy talking to a security, trying to get onto the pitch. Eventually he was allowed on and not one person tried to stop him. He went to Martin O’Neil and I microphone was brought to him.
He quietly said “ Don’t cry because he is leaving us, sing for him because he came!” Henrik approached the boy and shook his hand and the home support of 59,429 sang to their hero. They sang to their King. They sang to their God.
“You are my Larsson, My only Larsson, you make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know how much I love you. Oh, so please don’t take him away.”
“Down, Down, Down.” A huge man was running for Larsson. Telling him to crouch. Running faster. And then he jumped. And “Uhhhhhhh” took a bullet in the chest to save Henrik. He was a bodyguard but he did nothing that any other man or boy or women in crowed would not have done. There were screams of terror all over the ground. As police rushed about the place. Henrik was escorted into a safer part of the stadium. The bodyguard was dead seconds later.
Everyone was told to stay seated and calm. Most of the country was watching it live because the match was on the tele. Outside people were watching a man absailling down the side of the stadium and hoping into a car. A few chased him but he got away. He cared a sniper rifle. The Black Escort never waited a moment longer than it had to. It was gaining speed. If it was lost the man would never be found. The chase was on. Police cars were no-where in sight but one man (a strong Celtic supporter) was leaping into his car. Both cars swerved in and out of the busy traffic. If the vigilante couldn’t catch him, he would never be found because nothing was none of him. The black escort was losing the man. But he never slowed. When he lost the following car, he drove quickly, but not so he drew attention to himself, to a dock, where two men stepped out and strolled over to a small ship and walked in. The other car that they thought they had lost was still following. A few moments later it arrived. And the tall, pale man that had chased them so hopefully stepped out as the ship left the dock. He saw an old man sleeping beside a small speedboat. He jumped on board and found the keys in the ignition. He started it up and noticed a harpoon behind him. He grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder. Along with that and the small penknife he had, he considered himself armed for a fight.
The smaller boat quickly gained speed and caught up with the fishing ship. He took his harpoon off his shoulder as he lined up for the jump over to the other ship. A short man emerged from the boat pointing a pistol and threating to shoot. The courage’s man grabbed the harpoon at flung it at the man lick a javelin. It hit his chest. He fell to the floor. Quickly the vigilante jumped onto the fishing ship and checked the man was dead. He picked up his harpoon and started to search the lower decks. There he found the sniper, with another pistol. The sniper was pointing the gun at the man who had a Celtic strip on. “I prefer to kill my prey slowly.” He shot the vigilante in the leg. He fell. And the sniper approached him. The sniper held the pistol to our hero’s chest. Cocked it. And with one brave movment the injured man sweeped his hand away, pushed him over, and jumped on top of him. He pulled his penknife out and stabbed him in the gut. Found rope and tied the bleading man up and put him in a locked cupboard. He turned the boat around and docked it. Police were waiting but so was most of the countries press. He placed his hand on the handle. Turned it slowly. Pushed it open. And stepped out, onto land again. Flashes blinded his eyes as he hoppled into an ambulance and was carted away to a hospital.
“ The police believe that this was an act of terrorism. An Irish Protestant tried to do assassinate Henrik Larsson because he plays for Celtic Football Club, a Catholic based football team.” Read the news report. “Celtic were dew to take part in the final of the uefa cup but Martin O’Neil has asked that the game be postponed for a week dew to this incident. The sniper, nick named, Sparticus, because he nearly killed the Son of God or at least that’s what a Celtic Support would tell you, is in custody and is being interrogated as we speak.
“This has been a tremendous game. 0-0 as we go into the 89th minute. Man of the Match is Robert Douglas because he has made some of the best saves I have ever seen. Will Celtic fare better in extra time this year than they did last year. Oh, wait maybe they wont have to. Chris Sutton is making a run towards goal he’s being closely chased by the Inter Milan defender. He’s out side the box and he’s about to take his shot. Huuuuuuu.” The commentator drew a deep breath as Chris Sutton was fouled out side the box. “ That was Celtic’s best chance of the night but they have a free kick in a perfect position. Henrik Larsson will take it. Three steps back.” The whole stadium held their breath as Henrik made his run. “He’s pulled the trigger. It low, it fast, it’s a goal. YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS” The crowd went mental, ballistic, crazy. “They deserve this. All they have to do is hold up a few more minutes and the cup is theirs, eventually.” And they did. Henrik left Celtic with the biggest bang in football history. He said that’s what he always wanted to do.
Henrik had grown his hair long in memory of his first games at Park Head. He lifted his head. Looked into the camera. And spoke. “ Celtic Football Club, is…” A tear filled his eyes but he continued. “Celtic Football Club, is perfect. It has nothing it does not need and it has everything it does need. I spent the best years of my life here, at Park Head and no one can take that away from any of us but yes this will be the last game that I play at Park Head. I return home to Sweden to train young boys and tell them that Scotland and Celtic have the greatest football support in the world. Others may argue but they are wrong. I will give the fans, everything I have next Thursday, when we play Inter Milan. Thank you to every one and good bye!”
“No, Henrik, Park Head, thanks you. Good Bye”
“Henrik Larsson, Henrik Larsson, Henrik Larsson is the king of kings!” The crowd cheered and sang and cried at the same time and when the final whistle blew: There was silence, for the first time ever in Park Head. The respectful away support never said anything because they knew that the Celtic fans loved Henrik. The away team left the pitch but the Celtic team and management stayed on the field. And again they were told this is it. Most people bowed their head and cried to them selves. But some noticed a young boy talking to a security, trying to get onto the pitch. Eventually he was allowed on and not one person tried to stop him. He went to Martin O’Neil and I microphone was brought to him.
He quietly said “ Don’t cry because he is leaving us, sing for him because he came!” Henrik approached the boy and shook his hand and the home support of 59,429 sang to their hero. They sang to their King. They sang to their God.
“You are my Larsson, My only Larsson, you make me happy, when skies are grey. You’ll never know how much I love you. Oh, so please don’t take him away.”
“Down, Down, Down.” A huge man was running for Larsson. Telling him to crouch. Running faster. And then he jumped. And “Uhhhhhhh” took a bullet in the chest to save Henrik. He was a bodyguard but he did nothing that any other man or boy or women in crowed would not have done. There were screams of terror all over the ground. As police rushed about the place. Henrik was escorted into a safer part of the stadium. The bodyguard was dead seconds later.
Everyone was told to stay seated and calm. Most of the country was watching it live because the match was on the tele. Outside people were watching a man absailling down the side of the stadium and hoping into a car. A few chased him but he got away. He cared a sniper rifle. The Black Escort never waited a moment longer than it had to. It was gaining speed. If it was lost the man would never be found. The chase was on. Police cars were no-where in sight but one man (a strong Celtic supporter) was leaping into his car. Both cars swerved in and out of the busy traffic. If the vigilante couldn’t catch him, he would never be found because nothing was none of him. The black escort was losing the man. But he never slowed. When he lost the following car, he drove quickly, but not so he drew attention to himself, to a dock, where two men stepped out and strolled over to a small ship and walked in. The other car that they thought they had lost was still following. A few moments later it arrived. And the tall, pale man that had chased them so hopefully stepped out as the ship left the dock. He saw an old man sleeping beside a small speedboat. He jumped on board and found the keys in the ignition. He started it up and noticed a harpoon behind him. He grabbed it and slung it over his shoulder. Along with that and the small penknife he had, he considered himself armed for a fight.
The smaller boat quickly gained speed and caught up with the fishing ship. He took his harpoon off his shoulder as he lined up for the jump over to the other ship. A short man emerged from the boat pointing a pistol and threating to shoot. The courage’s man grabbed the harpoon at flung it at the man lick a javelin. It hit his chest. He fell to the floor. Quickly the vigilante jumped onto the fishing ship and checked the man was dead. He picked up his harpoon and started to search the lower decks. There he found the sniper, with another pistol. The sniper was pointing the gun at the man who had a Celtic strip on. “I prefer to kill my prey slowly.” He shot the vigilante in the leg. He fell. And the sniper approached him. The sniper held the pistol to our hero’s chest. Cocked it. And with one brave movment the injured man sweeped his hand away, pushed him over, and jumped on top of him. He pulled his penknife out and stabbed him in the gut. Found rope and tied the bleading man up and put him in a locked cupboard. He turned the boat around and docked it. Police were waiting but so was most of the countries press. He placed his hand on the handle. Turned it slowly. Pushed it open. And stepped out, onto land again. Flashes blinded his eyes as he hoppled into an ambulance and was carted away to a hospital.
“ The police believe that this was an act of terrorism. An Irish Protestant tried to do assassinate Henrik Larsson because he plays for Celtic Football Club, a Catholic based football team.” Read the news report. “Celtic were dew to take part in the final of the uefa cup but Martin O’Neil has asked that the game be postponed for a week dew to this incident. The sniper, nick named, Sparticus, because he nearly killed the Son of God or at least that’s what a Celtic Support would tell you, is in custody and is being interrogated as we speak.
“This has been a tremendous game. 0-0 as we go into the 89th minute. Man of the Match is Robert Douglas because he has made some of the best saves I have ever seen. Will Celtic fare better in extra time this year than they did last year. Oh, wait maybe they wont have to. Chris Sutton is making a run towards goal he’s being closely chased by the Inter Milan defender. He’s out side the box and he’s about to take his shot. Huuuuuuu.” The commentator drew a deep breath as Chris Sutton was fouled out side the box. “ That was Celtic’s best chance of the night but they have a free kick in a perfect position. Henrik Larsson will take it. Three steps back.” The whole stadium held their breath as Henrik made his run. “He’s pulled the trigger. It low, it fast, it’s a goal. YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS” The crowd went mental, ballistic, crazy. “They deserve this. All they have to do is hold up a few more minutes and the cup is theirs, eventually.” And they did. Henrik left Celtic with the biggest bang in football history. He said that’s what he always wanted to do.