25 minutes into stoppage time lol
The Secret Diary of Aldo Aged 61 1/2
- Thread starter Yarrgh
- Start date
- Status
canuckblue
Player Valuation: £50m
Too bad this has to end sometime.
He epitomises their fan base this lunatic.
If you cloned him 40,000 times and put them all in Anfield you’d never notice.
If you cloned him 40,000 times and put them all in Anfield you’d never notice.
Yarrgh
Player Valuation: £70m
The last hurrah of Aldo. Or how I learnt to stop gobbling knobs and learn to love the asterisk. Match Day 8*: 15 July
Effing robbed. Just watching Bournemouth cack their kecks against City. I sympathise as I feel personally affected by it. Not just the soiling yourself, but also the fact that if Bournemouth go down then it’s a double whammy. Them mancs with their oil money are getting closer, and Bournemouth look to be going down – who’ll buy our Curtis and Harvey when they turn out to be flash in the pan rubbish for exorbitant values? Look at little Eddie Howe’s little face – I feel his sadness. And who did this, that effing Raheem Stirling with a clinical dink over the keeper. Some may say it’s a talented bit of skill to do that after beating 3 men and then being taken down by Purple Faki (how did I get Nathan mixed up with Big Purps? Who’d a thunk it?) just as he was lofting it over the advancing keeper to score the goal of the season but I think he just fluked it, the little chancer. Imaging losing the league to a flukey goal. And there’s no VAR now to stop cheats like him prospering – I think they’re going to have to bring it back for the last game of the season to make surewe win, I mean to makes sure that fair play wins, ahem. And he then goes on to dedicate it to kittens and sick kids, and Dame Vera Lynn. Grrrr, that’s ours YMCA YMCA YMCA. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. I saw we had a banner for her too. It’s not fair!
Arsenal away today. Steve McMahon is sharpening his studs. I hate them , robbing us of the league and getting presented the trophy on our turf. He’s well surly. I think he wants redemption for taking his foot of the gas and losing that game by telling us all to concentrate and not doing it himself. Better not tell him though or he might belt me one. Good news is that Arsenal are decimated with Chinese fru. It’s so bad that they have to provide a team from ex-players. In defence they have Seaman, Winterburn, Dixon, Adams, Bould and that bitter bloo (but he doesn’t ever mention it, the effing nugget) Keown. That Merson and Kevin Campbell up front. Bloody hell another bloo. Boooooo! And they only gone and cloned Alan Ball in his white boots – like he’ll be any good. They’ve got that Anelka and Michael Thomas on as well – so a few ex-reds so we should be ok (wink wink).
It’s like a team of James Milner (before the speziale brau ran out) playing against that defence. They’re all in their 50s and 60s and stuff and still we can’t get past them. They make Van Dijk look like he’s only world class because the standard of defender has dropped that much that an average-ish player can look brilliant, which is as far from the truth as possible as he is the greatest ever. I tell you, I keep shooting and nothing but Seaman coming out on top. Can I lob Seaman? Nope. Can I blast Seaman? Only onto his body. The only time in the first half that I embarrass him is when I take a shot and mess up his long hair – damn you Seaman! And Alan Ball is making Steve McMahon look like a right mug – in fact he’s making a midfield of Naby Keita and James Milner look like the most embarrassing midfield to ever challenge for a title! I don’t know what’s going on here. It’s almost like we’ve been on performance enhancing drugs before the league got suspended and without them we’re useless.
Kenny is absolutely furious. He’s coughing and spluttering – not because of the chinese fru – thankfully for that there are still no symptoms, but because of rage. He tells me to get more shots on targets – apparently there’s a lad up a traffic light outside who is shooting with Seaman more effectively. I’m riled up – I could push Kenny in a fountain right now. Stevie Gee tells us to all calm down and plays a bit of lady in red for us all to calm down on his ghetto blaster. And that’s another thing, if he’s the best English midfielder of his generation, why can’t he hold a candle to Alan Ball? It’s all going terribly wrong. But voice of reason as ever comes from super sub Big Raze who has been drafted in for the last few games. We only need a point lads and we’re drawing. Kenny says that if we stick Raze on, then half the pitch will be taken up and they won’t be able to get through. Nice one! Draw it out, get the point and take home the trophy!
Kevin Campbell is marauding away but fortunately Big Raze is up to the job, and like an inflatable castle, Campbell just bounces off him. This is looking good. Even King Kenny is looking calm again. With about 10 minutes to go, Merson is having a word with Big Raze. It’s getting really emotional. Merson is telling Big Raze that he’s got to stop drinking or it’ll kill him. Big Raze is blubbering away and his heads not on the game. But we’ve used all 5 subs already. McMahon and Stevie Gee are calming everyone down. We can do this redmen. Get the party stated redmen. All of a sudden little Bobby Firminho (how would Werner get in over him? What a non-signing that’ll turn out to be) puts me clear with a minute to go, but I trap it like Romelu Lukaku and it goes shooting back. McMahon puts up one finger and tells us all that is all we have to concentrate for! Nice one – time to win the league lads! But McMahon allows Alan Ball to rob him because he’s too busy gesturing. A pin point pass to Michael Thomas who saunters past the stricken whale like body of Blubbery Raze an he slots it in. Noooooooooooooooooo!
The final whistle goes, and that dirty cheating Kevin Campbell with a big beam on my face asks if I have heard the news. What news? Everton have slipped into 5th place and with City not looking to qualify this year, they’re in the Champions League spots.
This day can get no worse. Starting to think that they should have voided the season. Still 6 points in hand and 2 games to go, what else could go wrong?
Liverpool: GD +39 Points 85
Etihad Scoundrels: GD +44 Points 79
Effing robbed. Just watching Bournemouth cack their kecks against City. I sympathise as I feel personally affected by it. Not just the soiling yourself, but also the fact that if Bournemouth go down then it’s a double whammy. Them mancs with their oil money are getting closer, and Bournemouth look to be going down – who’ll buy our Curtis and Harvey when they turn out to be flash in the pan rubbish for exorbitant values? Look at little Eddie Howe’s little face – I feel his sadness. And who did this, that effing Raheem Stirling with a clinical dink over the keeper. Some may say it’s a talented bit of skill to do that after beating 3 men and then being taken down by Purple Faki (how did I get Nathan mixed up with Big Purps? Who’d a thunk it?) just as he was lofting it over the advancing keeper to score the goal of the season but I think he just fluked it, the little chancer. Imaging losing the league to a flukey goal. And there’s no VAR now to stop cheats like him prospering – I think they’re going to have to bring it back for the last game of the season to make sure
Arsenal away today. Steve McMahon is sharpening his studs. I hate them , robbing us of the league and getting presented the trophy on our turf. He’s well surly. I think he wants redemption for taking his foot of the gas and losing that game by telling us all to concentrate and not doing it himself. Better not tell him though or he might belt me one. Good news is that Arsenal are decimated with Chinese fru. It’s so bad that they have to provide a team from ex-players. In defence they have Seaman, Winterburn, Dixon, Adams, Bould and that bitter bloo (but he doesn’t ever mention it, the effing nugget) Keown. That Merson and Kevin Campbell up front. Bloody hell another bloo. Boooooo! And they only gone and cloned Alan Ball in his white boots – like he’ll be any good. They’ve got that Anelka and Michael Thomas on as well – so a few ex-reds so we should be ok (wink wink).
It’s like a team of James Milner (before the speziale brau ran out) playing against that defence. They’re all in their 50s and 60s and stuff and still we can’t get past them. They make Van Dijk look like he’s only world class because the standard of defender has dropped that much that an average-ish player can look brilliant, which is as far from the truth as possible as he is the greatest ever. I tell you, I keep shooting and nothing but Seaman coming out on top. Can I lob Seaman? Nope. Can I blast Seaman? Only onto his body. The only time in the first half that I embarrass him is when I take a shot and mess up his long hair – damn you Seaman! And Alan Ball is making Steve McMahon look like a right mug – in fact he’s making a midfield of Naby Keita and James Milner look like the most embarrassing midfield to ever challenge for a title! I don’t know what’s going on here. It’s almost like we’ve been on performance enhancing drugs before the league got suspended and without them we’re useless.
Kenny is absolutely furious. He’s coughing and spluttering – not because of the chinese fru – thankfully for that there are still no symptoms, but because of rage. He tells me to get more shots on targets – apparently there’s a lad up a traffic light outside who is shooting with Seaman more effectively. I’m riled up – I could push Kenny in a fountain right now. Stevie Gee tells us to all calm down and plays a bit of lady in red for us all to calm down on his ghetto blaster. And that’s another thing, if he’s the best English midfielder of his generation, why can’t he hold a candle to Alan Ball? It’s all going terribly wrong. But voice of reason as ever comes from super sub Big Raze who has been drafted in for the last few games. We only need a point lads and we’re drawing. Kenny says that if we stick Raze on, then half the pitch will be taken up and they won’t be able to get through. Nice one! Draw it out, get the point and take home the trophy!
Kevin Campbell is marauding away but fortunately Big Raze is up to the job, and like an inflatable castle, Campbell just bounces off him. This is looking good. Even King Kenny is looking calm again. With about 10 minutes to go, Merson is having a word with Big Raze. It’s getting really emotional. Merson is telling Big Raze that he’s got to stop drinking or it’ll kill him. Big Raze is blubbering away and his heads not on the game. But we’ve used all 5 subs already. McMahon and Stevie Gee are calming everyone down. We can do this redmen. Get the party stated redmen. All of a sudden little Bobby Firminho (how would Werner get in over him? What a non-signing that’ll turn out to be) puts me clear with a minute to go, but I trap it like Romelu Lukaku and it goes shooting back. McMahon puts up one finger and tells us all that is all we have to concentrate for! Nice one – time to win the league lads! But McMahon allows Alan Ball to rob him because he’s too busy gesturing. A pin point pass to Michael Thomas who saunters past the stricken whale like body of Blubbery Raze an he slots it in. Noooooooooooooooooo!
The final whistle goes, and that dirty cheating Kevin Campbell with a big beam on my face asks if I have heard the news. What news? Everton have slipped into 5th place and with City not looking to qualify this year, they’re in the Champions League spots.
This day can get no worse. Starting to think that they should have voided the season. Still 6 points in hand and 2 games to go, what else could go wrong?
Liverpool: GD +39 Points 85
Etihad Scoundrels: GD +44 Points 79
Yarrgh
Player Valuation: £70m
The last hurrah of Aldo. Or how I learnt to stop gobbling knobs and learn to love the asterisk. Match Day 9*: 18 July
Home to Chelsea. And this time it matters more. To make the ground more hostile, we have filled it with witty banter filled banners. Well with just one, but there’s so many words on it that it takes up the whole ground. It’s well funny – it goes on about how bitter the bloos are and how everyone loves us and respects our daring exploits and if you don’t then you are dead dead bitter. There’s some stuff about domestic abuse, storming Europe and a bit of casual racism that’s dead funny – bantz!
Due to the social distancing rules, we can’t really welcome the Chelsea bus like we should, so we have to make do with some oddball in a suit made of badges and a creepy guy with an even creepier doll (but I must be wrong because he says it’s fun and he’s a doctor of it so he should know) tossing their stale knobs at them. There’s a load of stale knobs at Anfield now I’ve stopped gobbling them. Keiran and Kookoo are on security detail and the look a bit embarrassed by it all – I suspect they were expecting pints and pyro but the usual bellwhiffs probably got infected after the impromptu parade last week when we didn’t win the league legitimately ( how many times have I wrote that in the Echo?) It’s almost that the league doesn’t matter anymore and that they’re just pushing it through so that they don’t pay the tv money back. No! Don’t think like that Aldo, that’s what the enemy want us to think.
Simultaneously far far away in Manchester, Watford will be turning up with the in form Troy Deeney who has banged in a hat-trick a game certainly going to do us a favour. The tension is terrible. I’ve got the catchy theme tune that Watford play on my phone as my call alarm. I played it to the lads to show my support for them against City. Stevie Gee called me a plank and Steve McMahon pulled his groin with anger and is now sitting this game out. It’s up to Stevie and me to sort this out as the last capable players full of Klopps extra speziale redsh*te infused brau.
Is there anything more magical than a magical night at Anfield ™ with the most knowledgeable customers singing from their song sheets. Lovely stuff there from the customers. And the crowd goes wild as the opening refrain of YMCA starts up and the players walk onto the pitch.
The speziale brau is having a strange effect on my reality recently. I feel like I am seeing through all sorts of illusions and that we might have won this with an Alternative Premier League based on advanced statistical metrics devised by redmen in their bedsits, and that Lawro’s weekly predictions are a tad awry. But we’ll win. Stevie Gee is souped up for this. I will never let that game against Chelsea happen again. I will not let this league slip. Never! It’s passionate stuff. Another effect of the speziale brau is that it’s making waves of energy pulse into me. One minute I’m puffing like the pre-Klopp Milner, and then the next zooming like the post-Klopp Milner. Talking about pot-Klopp, Bobby Firminho looks shattered.
I have a great first 10 minutes mind you. Scoring a brace of goals. I can hear Alan Green in the commentator’s box spitting out a knob as he can’t contain his excitement. 2-0 up. Even John Terry is taking his replica kit off because he doesn’t even think that he’s going to be part of a historic moment in Chelsea’s favour.
But then I start to run out of juice. I’m wheezing like John Barnes watching one of his special interest videos. I beckon to the physio for help and Big Purps runs on but apart from a sponge down he can’t get to grips with me. I can’t grease you up mid game to improve your muscular virile physique John. I’ve got to get going again. The newly re-signed Demba Ba is limbering up on the side line and I can see that Stevie Gee is sweating bullets and having flashbacks about taking the knee against them. Big Purps runs off and leaves me there. It’s all up to me. Don’t overthink it Stevie! But he is, you can see form how creased up his little tiny forehead is.
With 5 minutes to go in the half, Ross Barclay gets one back and you can hear a pin drop. Where’s VAR?!? It’s not fair. Yes I know he was onside. Yes I know there were no fouls in the build-up. Yes it is a legitimate goal, but here at Anfield, fair means fair and it should have been disallowed, because that would have been fair to us. Still we go in at the break 2-1 up. Poor Milner is starting to look his age – give the boy a buspass.
At half time, we find out Troy Deeney has refused to play due to a Chinese fru outbreak around the Watford club. He refused to play. City have already nicked a goal from Raheem Stirling. He lifted his jersey to reveal the slogan, support the nurses. Book him ref! Watford pull to even stevens at the stroke of half time. Goal! Purps has me greased up and is doing some emergency massaging. He proffers me his specially hand crafted chocolate knob. Cheers Big Purps, I’m starting to come around again.
Second half starts in terrible fashion. Kante disposes Keita in midfield and plays a simple ball past the catatonic Dutch monolith Virgil and it’s a goal. 2-2.
It’s end to end, and with 15 minutes to go. I leap to a 50-50 ball and poke it just inside the post and it’s 3-2!!!! Aldo Aldo, the kop are shouting. I’m a hero. Kenny subs me off so I can get a rapturous round of applause from the customers with a few minutes on the clock. I’ve done it. I’ve won the league! For der mighty redz. Good job too because that stinking Raheem Stirling has scored to put that mob 1-0 up against Watford.
Just as I’m sitting down, so does Stevie Gee, or perhaps slip is the word as he stumbles to his knees, letting the ball bobble to Demba Ba. It’s like that scene from Platoon when he’s on his knees shouting noooooooo. But only with more pathos. Demba Ba streak ahead and knocks one in to make it 3-3. The crowd is silenced. But remember lads, we’re still getting a point! We won the league!!!!!
Frank Lampard decides to go all out and puts on his non-non-signing Timo Werner. He might not get a start behind Booby Firminho but he proves to be a handful. With the stoppage time being set to 15 seconds to facilitate a fair result for the redmen, Werner only gets one chance and it’s in. 3-4, 3-4! Noooooooooooooooooooo!Slippy Stevie is on his hand and kneed weeping. He’s totally deflated, so much so that you might associate him with the word pancake.
Kenny is sobbing. I hope it’s not the Chinese fru. Though I don’t think crying is one of the symptoms.
I’ve had enough. I scored a hat-trick and then the others threw it away in a few minutes of madness.
Raheem Stirling has apparently dedicate his last minute goal to his mum and all mums everywhere and has sponsored research into a cure for the Chinese fru. He’s really getting on my t*ts.
Liverpool: GD +38 Points 85
Manc tossers: GD +45 Points 82
Home to Chelsea. And this time it matters more. To make the ground more hostile, we have filled it with witty banter filled banners. Well with just one, but there’s so many words on it that it takes up the whole ground. It’s well funny – it goes on about how bitter the bloos are and how everyone loves us and respects our daring exploits and if you don’t then you are dead dead bitter. There’s some stuff about domestic abuse, storming Europe and a bit of casual racism that’s dead funny – bantz!
Due to the social distancing rules, we can’t really welcome the Chelsea bus like we should, so we have to make do with some oddball in a suit made of badges and a creepy guy with an even creepier doll (but I must be wrong because he says it’s fun and he’s a doctor of it so he should know) tossing their stale knobs at them. There’s a load of stale knobs at Anfield now I’ve stopped gobbling them. Keiran and Kookoo are on security detail and the look a bit embarrassed by it all – I suspect they were expecting pints and pyro but the usual bellwhiffs probably got infected after the impromptu parade last week when we didn’t win the league legitimately ( how many times have I wrote that in the Echo?) It’s almost that the league doesn’t matter anymore and that they’re just pushing it through so that they don’t pay the tv money back. No! Don’t think like that Aldo, that’s what the enemy want us to think.
Simultaneously far far away in Manchester, Watford will be turning up with the in form Troy Deeney who has banged in a hat-trick a game certainly going to do us a favour. The tension is terrible. I’ve got the catchy theme tune that Watford play on my phone as my call alarm. I played it to the lads to show my support for them against City. Stevie Gee called me a plank and Steve McMahon pulled his groin with anger and is now sitting this game out. It’s up to Stevie and me to sort this out as the last capable players full of Klopps extra speziale redsh*te infused brau.
Is there anything more magical than a magical night at Anfield ™ with the most knowledgeable customers singing from their song sheets. Lovely stuff there from the customers. And the crowd goes wild as the opening refrain of YMCA starts up and the players walk onto the pitch.
The speziale brau is having a strange effect on my reality recently. I feel like I am seeing through all sorts of illusions and that we might have won this with an Alternative Premier League based on advanced statistical metrics devised by redmen in their bedsits, and that Lawro’s weekly predictions are a tad awry. But we’ll win. Stevie Gee is souped up for this. I will never let that game against Chelsea happen again. I will not let this league slip. Never! It’s passionate stuff. Another effect of the speziale brau is that it’s making waves of energy pulse into me. One minute I’m puffing like the pre-Klopp Milner, and then the next zooming like the post-Klopp Milner. Talking about pot-Klopp, Bobby Firminho looks shattered.
I have a great first 10 minutes mind you. Scoring a brace of goals. I can hear Alan Green in the commentator’s box spitting out a knob as he can’t contain his excitement. 2-0 up. Even John Terry is taking his replica kit off because he doesn’t even think that he’s going to be part of a historic moment in Chelsea’s favour.
But then I start to run out of juice. I’m wheezing like John Barnes watching one of his special interest videos. I beckon to the physio for help and Big Purps runs on but apart from a sponge down he can’t get to grips with me. I can’t grease you up mid game to improve your muscular virile physique John. I’ve got to get going again. The newly re-signed Demba Ba is limbering up on the side line and I can see that Stevie Gee is sweating bullets and having flashbacks about taking the knee against them. Big Purps runs off and leaves me there. It’s all up to me. Don’t overthink it Stevie! But he is, you can see form how creased up his little tiny forehead is.
With 5 minutes to go in the half, Ross Barclay gets one back and you can hear a pin drop. Where’s VAR?!? It’s not fair. Yes I know he was onside. Yes I know there were no fouls in the build-up. Yes it is a legitimate goal, but here at Anfield, fair means fair and it should have been disallowed, because that would have been fair to us. Still we go in at the break 2-1 up. Poor Milner is starting to look his age – give the boy a buspass.
At half time, we find out Troy Deeney has refused to play due to a Chinese fru outbreak around the Watford club. He refused to play. City have already nicked a goal from Raheem Stirling. He lifted his jersey to reveal the slogan, support the nurses. Book him ref! Watford pull to even stevens at the stroke of half time. Goal! Purps has me greased up and is doing some emergency massaging. He proffers me his specially hand crafted chocolate knob. Cheers Big Purps, I’m starting to come around again.
Second half starts in terrible fashion. Kante disposes Keita in midfield and plays a simple ball past the catatonic Dutch monolith Virgil and it’s a goal. 2-2.
It’s end to end, and with 15 minutes to go. I leap to a 50-50 ball and poke it just inside the post and it’s 3-2!!!! Aldo Aldo, the kop are shouting. I’m a hero. Kenny subs me off so I can get a rapturous round of applause from the customers with a few minutes on the clock. I’ve done it. I’ve won the league! For der mighty redz. Good job too because that stinking Raheem Stirling has scored to put that mob 1-0 up against Watford.
Just as I’m sitting down, so does Stevie Gee, or perhaps slip is the word as he stumbles to his knees, letting the ball bobble to Demba Ba. It’s like that scene from Platoon when he’s on his knees shouting noooooooo. But only with more pathos. Demba Ba streak ahead and knocks one in to make it 3-3. The crowd is silenced. But remember lads, we’re still getting a point! We won the league!!!!!
Frank Lampard decides to go all out and puts on his non-non-signing Timo Werner. He might not get a start behind Booby Firminho but he proves to be a handful. With the stoppage time being set to 15 seconds to facilitate a fair result for the redmen, Werner only gets one chance and it’s in. 3-4, 3-4! Noooooooooooooooooooo!
Kenny is sobbing. I hope it’s not the Chinese fru. Though I don’t think crying is one of the symptoms.
I’ve had enough. I scored a hat-trick and then the others threw it away in a few minutes of madness.
Raheem Stirling has apparently dedicate his last minute goal to his mum and all mums everywhere and has sponsored research into a cure for the Chinese fru. He’s really getting on my t*ts.
Liverpool: GD +38 Points 85
Manc tossers: GD +45 Points 82
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