Bournemouth v Everton Preview

So that’s a wrap for 2017 – a year that most Evertonians won’t be too hasty in recalling in times to come.

Win this game though and Everton start 2018 in the top half of the table which is incredulous considering how shite we’ve been for near enough the entirety of the current season, with this fixture being competitive game number 33 already.



I think that’s the Allardyce honeymoon over judging by many of the comment I’ve seen in the past week or so. Over here at FC Everton we don’t wait until you suffer a defeat, none of that shit, for as soon as you trigger any particular preconception or anxiety we have about a new Manager then unless they’re winning, they’re dying in our tender eyes. And heaven help you if you wasn’t the man we wanted in the first place – then you’re fucked. Word is that Large Samuel wears an earpiece in one ear to balance out the thousands of knives sharpening he can hear in the other ear, as Pickford launches another long ball to Calvert-Lewin that goes over his head and into touch.

An over dramatization like but it’s a preview and I need some content to lash in there. Or perhaps in this world of ready opinion it’s the most angry and loopy that gets shared around and put on a pedestal as part of a wider problem when it’s just a small percentage of loons that can’t see we’re in much better position that when the gargoyle headed simplifier took over and it’s a means to an end. And seven games unbeaten so it would be fucking mad to harangue him now.

It’s also perfectly normal to recognise the evident improvement but at the same time hope for a more attacking element to our game, to ward off the ghost of Walter Smith that still haunts some dark recesses of our minds.



Let the man spend some money then, and the gum chewing hulking man-toad seems to be wasting no time in that if the reports of Cenk “is it” Tosun are in any way accurate. Like fuck I have the slightest clue about that foreign football muck so one can only wait and see. To further contradict my perennial despising of the transfer rumour system I’m gonna get a bit excited if that tall silky high priest of midfield N’zonzi follows, as he utterly sexed our midfield in a nonchalant manner back in that feisty pre season friendly in August. You know the one, the one where Sandro first gave hints that he’s some alternate Iberian Andy Johnson.

So Bournemouth away. They’re having a shitter of a season which is comforting as opposition but also a bit terrifying in case they beat us despite this. Everybody’s second favourite ewok Eddie Howe is feeling the pinch a little as the BBC casually slip him on their “next for the chop” list. Once you’re on there the slick haired open necked bunch of ex pros conjure up a smattering of “pieces” criticising you from various angles until that chop comes. Allardyce will be on there before too long and your boy McNulty can “lack of confidence behind the scenes” the fuck out of him until yet another Everton manager gets a severance payment that will benefit at least 2 generations beyond them.

Bournemouth being the Tory Blackpool of the south may not generate too much affection amongst us Corben infested northern types but as a whole they’re a generally inoffensive bunch of supporters so I’m gonna zip right past them and into some of their players as I’ve got a train to catch.



King – scored a cracker in the reverse fixture before being out-Oumared.

Wilson – some top class shithousing of West Ham and Moyes with that hand to net thing.

Fraser – one little middle earth Gamgee looking fuck. Volley him out the game Jonjoe lar.

Gosling – a shithouse, but a last minute kopite piss boiling shithouse so I wish the world’s bounty to him.

Ibe – all the kopites laughing at “rinsing” Bournemouth before they multiplied  that income by 5 and lashed it at the Cat from Red Dwarf.

Ake – a Lonsdale Ruud Gullit.

Begovic – he’s not Pickford is he?



As for Everton I would anticipate a wee bit of squad rotation due to that heavy load of games, and a couple of games where we’ve had as much attacking threat as a Lib Dem on Question Time.

Take your pick from who starts up front, but it’s probably going to be Niasse. Bolasie looked brighter than I expected on return from a year out, so much so that I conveniently buried the memory of him frustrating the fuck out of me as he repeatedly Beagried full backs with varying results. Lennon is the go to option on the right and I doubt that will change, as neither will Sigurdsson on the left. As Lookman and Vlasic become better with each absence – aka the Lucas Leiva effect.

There’s been a Rooney sized hole of creativity so hoping he’s over his manflu/family Christmas leave blag to take his spot and make some goals happen. If not then some sort of concoction with all the usual midfielders, that probably won’t be too effective.

To four or five at the back? That’s the question. Considering Bournemouth’s three year Plan A has been playing twattish balls into the channels to turn pondering centre halves around then I reckon there’s little need for the extra defender in there. Someone may have to miss out from Holgate, Williams and Keane. Martina is the most right footed left back I’ve ever seen but consistent with the paradox that is Curacao’s captain he plays better there than right back. Yeah we know you think he’s shit but he’s there until someone else can do a better job. Big fan of Kenny’s back poster defensive headers and what a long way he’s come in 2 months in that he’s an easy pick at right back. Pickford – whose face seemingly has a stroke every twelve minutes – is in goal.



I sense this current run and mood is a little precarious in the absence of any real “Sam is here” statement performance. Or maybe these stoic nil nillers are just that? The optimist in me is thinking there’ll be more. Points are what we needed and points are what we’ve got so there’s little complaint but we’ve also – amazingly – had some rub of the green which is startling as good fortune goes into Everton as Tramadol goes into Egypt.

Happy New Year, happy new Everton. Hopefully.

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