Welcome to the final third of the season.

Usually by this point Everton, and their zany audience, are in various stages of maligned ambition, despondency, burning rage, resignation and distraction. Though this year’s plot has steered form the usual Greek Tragedy and innovated a peculiar and alien theme, one called “hope”.

Quite knows what the fuck the script writers and director may be playing at but it’s enjoyable to watch how avid fans of the show are completing mistrusting of this new story arc. Count me in that too. Yet the episodes tick on and there’s shit you can do about it.

The Southampton game wasn’t one for the purists but it was one for the nerves – and league table – as a damaging habit at Goodison was seemingly broken. For now, as Everton positioned themselves one the arse of the leading pack going into the final furlong. Ancelotti of course is playing it down but there’s good things to be gained this season if Everton play like they can on a consistent basis. Not like they did against Southampton. Maybe the Italian does has a point, yet secretly he craves three.

A kinder spell of the league fixture list has commenced (except for the game after this) and it’s all up to Everton and Everton alone to maximise on the generous points on offer to perhaps accelerate any plan Ancelotti may have had by a season or two. I don’t reckon we’re equipped for it yet, but who really gives a flying fuck about any projection yet another blog writing tithead may have on your club’s future.

It’s back to Thursday football but not the type where you get to play in various cultural delights around this fantastic continent we’re part of, or were part of anyway, oh no this Thursday it’s time travel instead as Everton travel decades back in behaviour, technology, attitudes, fashion and personal hygiene with a visit to West Bromwich Albion. Not unlike drawing a team called Torpedo in the seventies or eighties, in a way.

West Brom are having a shitter of a return to the Premier League which may have surprised a few of us, considering the team that came to Goodison second game of the season was bristling with confidence and intent. This league though be an unforgiving one where a poor defeat or thrice can soon turn into a full blown fiasco, as proved true when West Brom’s hierarchy bombed out one reptile who once leeched on Everton for another.

And this, dear friends, means it’s time for more Large Samuel.

There was a certain amount of indignation from Baron Belch when Everton let him go, just a little over two and a half years ago. It’s hard to know if he really felt surprise or it was just his belligerent nature protecting his own perceived brand, with one glazed eye on future opportunities. The only validation that Everton need for their decision is this meeting again chasing a win to put them fourth, with Carlo Ancelotti as manager, while Grande Granules flaps around second from bottom blaming all but himself.

Really though it’s too easy to sneer at the Count of Monte Bisto when his record with multiple clubs is superior to many with funkier reputations that have failed dismally in the Premier League. Sure his football might not be to taste but if it is so basic then why have so many had trouble overcoming it? Clubs know exactly what they’re getting and are quite happy to trade their XG and training ground plumbing in return for it, placing the obnoxious tactical toad in the hot seat chest pumping and promising you salvation, while lashing out a vile tongue to lick his own eyeball. A man whose most sordid fantasy is a deflected header. A man who thinks horses for courses is a credible gourmet option. A man who chews his own farts. A man who exhales CFCs. A man whose shadow alone can kill a season’s crops. A man who’s served toast by the lorry. A man who grazes on desperation. A man who wears a hammock as a mask. Where number tens go to die. NASA couldn’t land a rover on his back. The TK Maxx oops rail suit wearing slug. If you throw a coin down his belly button your team concede a corner. Stencil that jaw with KIRKBY SKIPS as he chomps hard and true on eternal dumpling. I bet his armpits break Geigers. The foul touchline manatee. I miss him and his post match quotes so so much.

Pig Of The Slump hails from the Black Country itself so it’s nice he managed to get to manage one of their fine historic clubs before he calls time on his career. There’s no beef here with West Brom which sadly makes for a dull preview, truth be told I am fond of the people from those parts despite a faint Brexity whiff. Sure the neighbourhood may be where three star jumpers go to die but I’d much rather them than the various conceited banterbiffs looking to replace them as foes, and potential guests to the away end at Goodison Park.

Hopefully the bench haunting buffet molester keeps them up, and is then promptly fired by West Brom one day later. Our debt isn’t settled until he pays back the fifty large he threw at Walcott and bald of the Bosphorus, and he apologies for putting Sammy Lee in an Everton trackie on our touchline. A small price to pay I’m sure you’ll agree.

Let us talk very briefly about Everton.

It’s hard to trust Carlo Ancelotti when it comes to team and injury news. Put simply, he has a Sicilian tongue more distrustful than an airport exchange rate. So when a whole flock of injuries appeared out of nowhere for the previous game it left me wondering if Lady Luck had pegged us once more, or if it was part of game of 5D chess to navigate this quick run of games. Consequently I have absolutely no fucking idea about who may or may not play so will skip this usual part of the preview if you don’t mind.

The only certainty is that the clean sheet loving shed will have West Brom playing with all the territorial ambition of Liechtenstein, meaning this could be a game our creative players to try and unlock, while the Albion try and break as many of our ribs in the ruck. Everton should expect occasional aerial bombardment so perhaps that will point to much height and aggression in the line up as possible, and some pace at the back for playing a high line to attempt breach the wall of stripes they’re likely to face. West Brom may be distracted by a big six pointer against Newcastle a few days after this, but any Everton shouldn’t have to rely on that. This is about Everton forcing their will and if not then go easy on that excitement you may be harbouring for the remainder of this season.

That’s about the long and short of it really. Get three points Everton.

FIN.

Writer

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First :dance:

0-2 to Carlo’s Army

Reply 1 Like

Really though it’s too easy to sneer at the Count of Monte Bisto when his record with multiple clubs is superior to many with funkier reputations that have failed dismally in the Premier League. Sure his football might not be to taste but if it is so basic then why have so many had trouble overcoming it? Clubs know exactly what they’re getting and are quite happy to trade their XG and training ground plumbing in return for it, placing the obnoxious tactical toad in the hot seat chest pumping and promising you salvation, while lashing out a vile tongue to lick his own eyeball. A man whose most sordid fantasy is a deflected header. A man who thinks horses for courses is a credible gourmet option. A man who chews his own farts. A man who exhales CFCs. A man whose shadow alone can kill a season’s crops. A man who’s served toast by the lorry. A man who grazes on desperation. A man who wears a hammock as a mask. Where number tens go to die. NASA couldn’t land a rover on his back. The TK Maxx oops rail suit wearing slug. If you throw a coin down his belly button your team concede a corner. Stencil that jaw with KIRKBY SKIPS as he chomps hard and true on eternal dumpling. I bet his armpits break Geigers. The foul touchline manatee. I miss him and his post match quotes so so much.

Absolutes tears reading that lollollollollollollollollollollollollollollollollol

Reply 23 Likes

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A man whose shadow alone can kill a season’s crop lollollollollollollol

Reply 8 Likes

Really though it’s too easy to sneer at the Count of Monte Bisto when his record with multiple clubs is superior to many with funkier reputations that have failed dismally in the Premier League. Sure his football might not be to taste but if it is so basic then why have so many had trouble overcoming it? Clubs know exactly what they’re getting and are quite happy to trade their XG and training ground plumbing in return for it, placing the obnoxious tactical toad in the hot seat chest pumping and promising you salvation, while lashing out a vile tongue to lick his own eyeball. A man whose most sordid fantasy is a deflected header. A man who thinks horses for courses is a credible gourmet option. A man who chews his own farts. A man who exhales CFCs. A man whose shadow alone can kill a season’s crops. A man who’s served toast by the lorry. A man who grazes on desperation. A man who wears a hammock as a mask. Where number tens go to die. NASA couldn’t land a rover on his back. The TK Maxx oops rail suit wearing slug. If you throw a coin down his belly button your team concede a corner. Stencil that jaw with KIRKBY SKIPS as he chomps hard and true on eternal dumpling. I bet his armpits break Geigers. The foul touchline manatee. I miss him and his post match quotes so so much.

Absolutes tears reading that lollollollollollollollollollollollollollollollollol

Hahahaha. In tears here too

Reply 4 Likes

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As always a well worth read

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Nice pics as ever and some wonderfully descriptive characterisation of el slobbo.
My inner 13 year old self still wants revenge for 1968. Come on Everton, these are . . . . . . . .
UTFT

Reply 5 Likes

If nothing else, we should be grateful for Big Fat Sam's reign on account of its effect on Chicos creative juices.

You just don't get the same from your Marco Silvas of the world.

Don Carlo obviously does, but in a subtle sophisticated way. A scicillian tongue less trustworthy than an airport exchange rate, lol.

Reply 3 Likes

Quality stuff - nice one Chico.

UTFT!

Reply 1 Like

Absolutely brilliant.

Reply 1 Like

Every time I read one of these, I think, "This is his best". Well, this is his best.

"Count of Monte Bisto" ... lollollol

Reply 7 Likes

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