Spring has sprung, the lambs are leaping round the fields, Daily Mail readers are furious about chocolate eggs not having EASTER in massive letters and Everton go missing in a derby. Every fucking year. If you’ve any sense, you’ll jib this off after Hull. Who the fuck am I kidding, just swerve the whole thing, it’s the same tedious shite as always.


5.3.17 Spurs (a)

The first major test of Everton’s unbeaten league start to 2017 and all resolve crumbled in the face of a team who are at a level where we aspire to be, but are sadly still way short of. Remember 10 years ago when we were battling with Spurs on a yearly basis for that “best of the rest” slot alongside Villa? Clever management, strong leadership and good investment has taken them on leaps and bounds while we’ve treaded water. At least we’re not Villa like, who have sunk without fucking trace.

A solid opening 20 minutes where defensively, Spurs were stifled and we looked much more dangerous on the counter, were all in vain as Harry Kane was given far too much space and rattled in an absolute thunderbastard from 25 yards that Joel probably should have reached with ease but didn’t. From then on, the home side controlled things and were unfortunate to go in only one goal up.

They soon saw to that, seizing upon another fuck up from Robles, a slack pass to an unsuspecting Schneiderlin was seized upon, Kane got the ball on the edge of the box and the crayon eating England forward tucked away with an ease that he’s yet to find when trying to string together a fucking sentence.

Lukaku struck one back in the personal battle for the golden boot with an excellent right footed drive into the bottom corner past the previously untroubled Lloris, massively against the run of play. It sparked a bit of life into the Toffees so of course Spurs killed the game off when Alli flicked home in acres of space on the stroke of full time. There was still time for Everton to compound the ridiculousness of conceding that easy 3rd when Valencia turned in a Barkley free kick, but it was in vain. In truth, 3-2 massively flattered us, as we weren’t at the races at all.



11.3.17 West Brom (h)

Going to throw this one out there early and set the tone for the next few paragraphs. West Brom are fucking horrible. Probably one of the worst teams to watch I’ve ever seen. A living embodiment of how I imagine Tony Pulis smells after walking the dogs on a muggy summers evening. Imagine having a season ticket at the Hawthorns, it’s the sporting equivalent of a suicidal cry for help.

They huffed and puffed, kicked and chased, fouled and fouled and fouled again, especially that big fucking yard dog Yacob who’s done remarkably to carve out a professional career based solely on maiming midfielders, but it was all without cause, Mirallas opening the scoring after Barkley’s long range effort was padded out by the keeper.

The lead doubled on the stroke of half time, Lukaku did well to beat three men and slip a sublime through ball to Schneiderlin who gleefully poked the ball home for his first goal in Royal Blue. The second half was a fairly drab affair with Everton content to stroke the ball around and West Brom content to play for time in the hope of preserving just a two goal deficit, but Lukaku got the goal his performance merited when he headed home a Barkley cross late on, the England man finishing with two assists in a commanding midfield display. Thank fuck we only have to play them twice a year.


18.3.17 Hull (h)

I’m a massive fan of Ronny Koeman’s Snakey Blues™ handing out routine thrashings to relegation fodder, and Hull were the latest to step up for a kicking and rightly fucking so for that ridiculous tiger mauling gesture their fans do.

Dominic Calvert Lewin started after returning from injury and betting his first Premier League goal inside 10 minutes with a smart finish off the post, following a cut back from resident scruffbag Tom Davies. Despite dominating, the second goal didn’t come until after the introduction of Enner Valencia, the Ecuadorean scoring with his second touch after a delectable chip from Lukaku.

Not to be outdone, the big boss Belgian rattled in two late goals to take himself to 21 for the season, the first after being put through by Valencia, the second after being put through by some fucking yard dog’s short backpass. Oh, Tom Huddleston got sent off at some point too, probably harshly but it’ll do Hull a favour in the long run because he is fucking shite.

Just the international break to go, to round off March and then the small matter of the derby.



1.4.17 Liverpool (a)

I’m cheating here with the format a bit, but I’ve got two reasons. One, we play 6 times in April and I’m sparing you lot having to read a monthly review that’s longer than a Leonard Cohen song and two, if I slip it in at the end here, I can gloss over the fact that we were fucking dog shit, once again.

The annual capitulation started in the regular fashion. A frantic beginning with fouls, shin rakes and snarling before Everton concede in comical fashion. Mané skipped through the midfield and defence with ease, Pennington and Holgate fell over each other, and Joel refused to even dive for the trundler that slipped in at the far post.

Bucking the recent Anfield trend, we actually mounted something of a fight back. After nearly heading home from a corner, Jagielka then got his head to another, the ball dropping to Pennington’s feet and the youngster prodded home in front of the hill of piss. It lasted all of 3 minutes.

Coutinho decided this was the time to have his one good game in 10, ran at the hapless Pennington, and curled towards the far corner. I don’t think Joel bothered diving again. The third came after the break, with Origi curling home from acres of space after the defence went walking. Did Joel try and stop it? Did he fuck.

That’s that. I’m not enough of a sadist to probe too far into the whys and why bits of Saturday but the long and short of it is, things need to change mentally before next year, because it’s fucking embarrassing that teams like Wolves and Swansea can go there and run them ragged and we curl up in a ball every year.

If you’ve made it this far, congratulations. You’re made of sterner stuff than me, I’d have given up probably some time in September. Until next month, UTFT. Goodnight and god bless x

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