Good morning. This is the Met Office. Please evacuate all top four finish fantasies at once and make your way in a calm and dignified manner to the lifeboats. Women and the boy Hotspur first.
Whining whining Arsenal. This season they have been the most unsporting, moaning shower of bitches that they have ever been. The grass was too long, the opposition were too physical, the crowd was too noisy…. the absence of shame has been well, bordering on quite shamless.
Their fans have all the fervour of a desperate religious cult but none of the charm. Incessantly creepy, graceless, wannabe philosophers and scientists from the planet HardDoneBy.
I really hope we smash the granny out of them. I’m not even sure what the means exactly, but it sounds ideal. My wild guess 3-2.
West Bromwich Albion [H]
Poor old Roy. Thank goodness he was protected from the ravages of that Liverpool hot seat by mild dementia. It must have been like a warm blanket over his up there by the coast. Great to see him about again, shaking hands with fans, chatting amiably about his favourite wireless programs and the weather.
West Bromwich though are no longer going down. They would have to more or less lose all of their remaining games to achieve that and I just don’t see it. A run of emphatic draws have turned The Baggies into a lean mean, single point scoring machine.
This is away for them and so the spell is broken! My wild guess is a 2-1 win.
Lots of chitter and chatter about Torres being ‘a waste of money’ and Carlo being replaced by a cinema foyer life size cut out of Indiana Jones. I’m looking at the situation as someone who doesn’t like them at all and I can see they are on the mend. Fwank normally nets 20 a season.
To put this game into layman’s terms in order to go to Second Hand Fridge and scoop all 3 points we would have to be as good on the day as Manchester United. My wild guess is a point.
Manchester City [A]
Manchester City are for my money eminently beatable. Remember that rather exhilarating game we had with them earlier the season? If they had kept that up they would be top of the Premiership right now. I’m serious. They looked amazing. They now look like a charity shop full of designer clothes.
But we aren’t any good at scoring goals. That’s a distinct disadvantage in this game. Mark my words. A wild guess being a 1-0 loss.
If King Kenny can keep the momentum going then it’s difficult to see this one being a low scoring game. Carroll has the swagger of a bloke who knows he’s good and Suarez looks pretty much worth every penny too. Meanwhile we placed an eleventh hour megabid for that Sweaty at Blackpool.
Liverpool are plating fast flowing football. On a good day so are we. My wild guess is a crowd pleasing 2-2.
I’ll be glad to see the back of Blackpool or more specifically, Holloway to be quite blunt. Well …it was almost approaching fun for a short while to watch them give ‘the big boys’ a run for their money but any charm has gone the way of the painted over rust on their seaside rides and it’s begun to flake off.
‘Ollie’ is a yokel. A Poundland Magic 8 Ball. Kiss me quick hats and white dog muck are calling. My wild guess is something along the lines of 4-1. How do you like them apples, Ian?
Birmingham City [H]
Birmingham have some rotten fixtures ahead of them. Stinkers. I very much like to think that we’ll be one of them. The bottom of the Premiership is like quicksand in one of those old black and white made for TV movies. With so many queuing up to be last seen as a hat, floating on the surface.
From Birmingham down – as the table sits right now – it’s a genuine struggle to point out the ones brave or indeed clever enough to fight their way up and out. Scotty Parker suddenly looks knackered. Mick McCarthy appeared to swap places with Wigan in the blink of an eye. Steve Bruce is on a suicide watch and I suppose if I was pushed then only Blackburn look to me like they might remotely give it a go. My wild guess is 2-0.
Fourteen points if my GCSE grade 3 maths is still rocking in the free world. Have we won anything? Let me just check the old raffle tickets. Ah yes. A European tour the class of which one might readily look forward to if one were an asylum seeker concealed in a drum of time expired anchovy paste.
It’s moments like these I want to rant and rave about all those infuriatingly stupid points that were dropped long before we got here. I’ll that leave it to you.