Where’s your head at? at at at? Where’s your head at? Where’s your head at?

In the case of Everton I’m gonna take a plucky guess at “right up their own fucking arse chewing on their own intestines”.

We really are that shite. Cry arsing to follow.




How did it end up this way? I’ve genuinely no idea. Nearly as much idea as how the fuck we are sat in seventh place when writing this preview. Best league in the world though lar.

It’s December and we’ve failed to put together two decent halves of football in any game we’ve played this season, cumulating in an insipid one nil defeat away to a shite Southampton team. Cue the hacks writing articles about how Southampton have enacted revenge on Koeman etc.

The day we’re arsed about Southampton will truly be a bad day for Everton but right now our main concerns, ok – my concern, is a team of players wearing royal blue entering a third season of not putting a shift in for Everton and meekly getting rolled over by anyone willing to put in a marginally more energetic shift when facing them.

This doesn’t waive any angst towards Koeman, with a head that should be grade 4 protruding from Stay Puft’s sphincter, but fact of the matter is that he’s just easing himself into not even half a season of his Everton career. Fuck me though it’s achingly clear the system he keeps on picking isn’t working with the current load of players who through a lack of will and meek performances have held Everton to ransom for a couple of seasons whilst making their future generations extremely wealthy. Sound’s a bit “we pay your wage through taxes and it’s just not good enough” that so my apologies.

They can all get to fuck though.




So who we playing next? We’ve tried summoning the spirits of “an easy three points at home to Swansea” and “Koeman will smite a Europa League weary Southampton” without much predictive success. So which fortunate bastards are lining up against us this weekend? Oh, Manchester United.

Now if this was about ten years ago we’d shrug our shoulders and take a guaranteed different level twatting from their array of players we wish would play for us, plus Louis Saha and Wayne Rooney, but it’s a different United these days.

They do have an array of players which would crust the sock of any avid FIFA playing queg who believes they have an insight into the game through hours spent twatting Saudis online whilst playing as Barcelona. United are a big draw in world football and the most successful English club there’s ever been (you know why I done that) so coupled with their mammoth wealth they will attract world stars. And if it was indeed a game of FIFA 17 then this would be pretty much enough to guarantee them success. Footie doesn’t work that way always, thankfully, and instead there’s a whole world of facets out there requiring mastering in order to build sustainable success. Not for one minute here am I suggesting that they won’t beat us on Sunday though.




The fuck am I talking football anyway? You’ve seen, heard and read enough about Man Utd to last you several life times so the question you’re really not asking yourself is “what are their fans like?”.

Well if nicotine stained fingers, a scent of wet cardboard and next level wooliness is your thing then get yourself down to Goodiso (sic) Park on Sunday and you’ll have a veritable feast.

Whilst these previews are often generous in spirit to wools it’s more appreciation of those who are caught in the perjury of the gravity of two big cities but leaning towards us – like Warrington, St Helens etc. Of course Wigan is a 50/50 battleground for humanity, the wool Aleppo if you will, while beyond there is ground which is firmly in the hands of Manc wools – the scruffiest of them all.




With an unchallenged wool gene there’s really shite attempts at humour, fashion and just life in general. Truth be told there should be a big wall built at the edge of Ashton in Makerfield and stringent permits required to head due south. If we are truly to protect our cultural achievements and excellency then we’ve got to take strong measures and come together as a collective to combat the danger of wools in our fanbase. Some won’t like these words but I write them because I care. The existing policies are failing me and you.

Not that we are woolist or anything, we’re just Alt-Gwladys Street.

Which is a loose point of why is everyone scared to call bells bells now? Or even fuckwit hateful fascist twats? Or lean way too left and vegan bore, perma-outraged at whatever society tries new?

Why are so many fucking people obsessed with milking a Brazilian tragedy half a world away displaying videos and photos when in reality grief has always been best a private and dignified thing? Being empathetic is sincere. Banners, videos of those who died prior to their horrid fate and teeth pulling statements of how it nine-steps-of-separation affected you is just ghoulish.




You know what’s right and wrong, your mum or dad or family or mates grew up with you guiding you through it or ripping you when you got it wrong. By adult age people should be aware of what’s appropriate – like not labelling wools as scruffy social misfits, or writing untrue partisan words about sporting opposition to your favoured team every weekend.

And then they came for me. And there was no one left to shout TERN ROSS.

Think on about that for a moment and if someone can find a fucking point in it then retweet it about so it looks like I have one single clue about where this preview is heading. Translate it into Brazilian and then tattoo the fuck out of it on your forearm as that’s not going to look stupid in 20 years. Or look utterly daft that you’re twenty something with a poignant life message on your arm when you still pay yer mar 30 notes a week to live in the box room and her to scrub your shit stains from the bog.

It’s sound to be just normal and have moderate views. You’re better company for it. You don’t have to pretend you had trials for Crewe but you liked a pint too much or that you were second cock of your school and roundhoused a teacher. Because you didn’t, and that’s fine, that’s just you man. Or girl.




So a list of Man Utd players:

Ibrahimovic – a very talented player but a tit. Under thirty lad bible scrotes hanging off his every word like he’s Socrates sat in a bath or whatever dickhead done the eureka thing before, sadly, plugged in toasters were invented.

Martial – ace player, he really is. May turn out ‘a bit Anelka’ though.

Rooney – suspended, will probably end up playing for Everton again and you know it, suckers.

Pogba – I’m a thoroughly shit analyst at football but he’s the Ferrari on the drive bought with unsecured credit. Your neighbours all think you’re a cunt.

Rashford – why can’t he come through at Everton? Maybe because we’d sell him to Man Utd.




Mata – bet he squints his eyes walking onto the pitch and wishes it was him wearing royal blue. No hang on that’s not true as it’s complete horseshit that he was going to sign for Everton. The lower Gwladys would boo him after seven games anyway, the occasionally ace little Iberian togger pixie.

Carrick – great player for them for a long period of time. Time should remember him as boss. But instead he’ll be awkwardly giving interviews for MUTV in twenty years after he blew all his money on a Spanish timeshare ponzi scheme, and William Hill invites him back.

Speaking of which, who done that to Kanchelskis’ face? Arl arse. He’s turned into one of them troll dolls.

Smalling – plays in defence and everyone says he’s really good despite no one really knowing.

De Gea – what a goalkeeper. Best I’ve seen in beards.

Despite the parochial rivalry Manchester United is a great club of the world game and whenever they roll into town you can expect full crowd, anticipation and some really shit songs.

Do we have to talk about the Everton team?




Nah not really as every week I usually have a cock eyed preview of who we may play and where, but truth be told every single one of them – except our beautiful prince Gana Gueye – can get to fuck. Results can go up and down, performances can be subject to form and fitness but one thing that shouldn’t be lacking in an Everton shirt is effort or fight.

Too many are letting us down right now, and it’s a real big worry if this run of form continues as to where we may rightfully find ourselves.

I’ve took enough of your precious time without offering too much reward, sorry about that. Everton just makes me feel this way as it seeps into aspects of my attempted functioning life.




I think Basement Jaxx did probably say it best.

Don’t let the walls cave in on you. We can’t live on, live on without you.

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