Try to ignore the fact I’ve just put a hashtag in a monthly review, I think it was meant to be ironic but it might just be a desperate attempt to stay #trendy
Done it again there, knobhead. Fuck it, here’s your Everton.
02.01.17 Southampton (h)
A visit to Goodison by the manager’s former employers, who he left under something of a cloud, yet even that failed to bring any sort of aggro to a game against an opponent that is just completely fucking irrelevant in every single way. Apologies if you have anything invested in Southampton, the football club or the city, but really there’s no point in either and no logical reason why they should still exist. A haven of LAD Bible loving Tories in Superdry coats with 17 zips and bootcut jeans as far as the eye can see. Of course they voted for Brexit.
A first half of few chances, fewer incidents and very little quality seemed indicative of two teams struggling to put together any real run of form. Everton laboured and rarely looked threatening. On the hour mark, the ineffective Lennon was withdrawn and Koeman sent on Enner Valencia in search of a spark, and within 15 minutes, it came. A goalmouth scramble after a Lukaku header was saved and the diminutive CSA dodger pounced to score his first goal in royal blue.
The lead was doubled less than 10 minutes later and the Ecuadorean was involved again, this time being fouled in the box to win a penalty. Lukaku and Baines had a brief misunderstanding over who was to take the kick, the kind that’s dead fucking embarrassing when the victor then misses the ensuing kick. Fortunately Baines coolly slotted home. The big Belgian took his frustrations and used them to good effect in the dying seconds when he collected an excellent through ball from Davies and unleashed a thunderbastard that nearly destroyed the net, the Street end, the church and the Willy Hill on Goodison Road.
Sound when Everton remember how to football and leather insignificant shite at home.
07.01.17 Leicester (h) FA Cup
Brief, blunt and to the point. Our last remaining chance of silverware and to prevent another tedious birthday banner when the shite visit Goodison next year went down the shitter in inept and uninspiring fashion.
There was no coverage of the game, apart from some fella on his phone for 20 minutes until his battery died, and I swerved watching the highlights to instead drink enough Jack Daniels to spark a liver transplant application but according to reports we were dogshit, Leicester were slightly less so, and they went through.
15.01.17 City (h)
Pep Guardiola and his band of swashbuckling conquistadors were next to invade the shores of our idyllic L4 island paradise and no sooner had they landed on the beaches the royal blue cannibal natives came swarming out of the palm trees and kicked the fucking shit out of them. A team full of hundreds of millions of pounds worth of talent was made to look distinctly average as Partisan Walton outfought, outpassed, outworked and outgunned them from the off.
The hero of the day was 18 year old Tom Davies, comfortably head and shoulders above anyone in the City midfield, and he was involved in breaking the deadlock as he took possession at halfway, strode into the City defence and slipped a perfect ball into Mirallas who cut it back for Lukaku. The big beautiful ebony dreamboat extended his excellent scoring run this season with a neat finish off the near post. The two Belgians were both involved in the second as well, Lukaku’s attempted through ball was cut out by Stones but fell to the excellent Barkley, who found Mirallas. A touch to steady himself on the run before driving in off the base of the far post, past the despairing (shite) Claudio Bravo in goal.
City began to press but the expected capitulation and surrender never came. Instead, the Blues moved further ahead as the Ketwig Kaiser (© @nsno_83) got the goal that his all round excellent performance deserved. Picking the ball up deep in his own half this time, he set off up the wing with two City players in hot pursuit. When all looked lost as he headed into traffic, an audacious Cruyff turn between the pair of them left Toure floundering like a big fucking daft starfish, staring after the rapidly disappearing golden maned scruffbag. Davies fed it to Barkley before taking the return ball in the box and clipping an impudent little chip over the onrushing keeper. Lukaku tried to nick it on the line, the arl arse, but failed and Wee Tom fulfilled the dreams of us all by diving head first into the Street end to celebrate.
The rout was completed in stoppage time when John Stones, who was fucking woeful all day, god bless, cannoned a clearance off Seamus Coleman’s arse. The ball fell to debutant Ademola Lookman, an absolute ringer for that Chicken Connoisseur fella off YouTube by the way, and the teenager slotted with a cool finish of a seasoned striker.
21.01.17 Palace (a)
After three successive home games, a trip to Sarf Larndarn was on the cards and a meeting with one of our perennial bogey teams. Under new management, after the sacking of Alan Pardew (try not to smile too much), the Eagles now had “Big Sam” Allardyce, a man of no particular scruples with gravy running through his veins, at the helm.
What’s better than fucking one of the best teams in the country 4-0 you ask? How about sniding a late winner against relegation fodder with a shithouse goal as one of their players lies injured, just as the band of cringey drum thumping dickheads were readying to celebrate a battling point in their bid to beat the drop? That’ll do nicely, ta very much.
Let’s be honest, Everton battered them here. Palace deserved nothing from this as they survived onslaught after onslaught on Hennessey’s goal. So it was completely inevitable that they almost broke the deadlock themselves late on. Yard dog and boyhood kopite Scott Dann with a header that looked destined to see Ronald Koeman being unfairly called a cunt on social media (probably by me) until a miraculous leap and save from the ever handsome Joel Robles, who by the way has come onto a great run of form, coinciding with a tightening up at the back with the move to three centre halves.
Just as it looked like the game would fizzle out into one of those drab nil nil draws where you reflect morosely upon the points dropped, came the moment of controversy. Their fullback Schlupp went down injured off the park, before rolling back into the playing surface in an attempt to stop play. The Everton of old would have kicked it out, in a sporting manner but this is Koeman’s Snakey Blues™ now and they’re a horrible bunch of snide cunts. We played on, the ball found Coleman who was 1. Offside and 2. In the area where Schlupp would have been defending if he hadn’t gone down with cramp like a big girl, and the Irishman lashed home. Cue limbs, pyrotechnics and some fella in the disabled section risking his DLA by leaping ten foot in the air to celebrate. In case you were wondering, “Big Sam” was fucking apoplectic afterwards, so that made it even better.
So that was January. 100% record in the league, 8 goals scored and none conceded, a new Scouse hero with scruffy blond locks, a puberty beard and magnificent black boots, some key signings* and loads of deadwood cleared out from the squad. Oh, and a timid FA Cup exit against a piss poor side. Everton giveth, and Everton taketh away. Here’s to the next 11 months of more of the same, hopefully.
*written before any potential deadline day deals