The Secret Diary of Aldo Aged 61 1/2
- Thread starter Yarrgh
- Start date
- Status
Yarrgh
Player Valuation: £80m
18/04/20 Part 2
12:31pm "..nt and no mistake. Princess Anne said he also smelt like dog faeces."
Well you could have heard a pin drop!
Prince Andrew who was there for the predator convention panel (hosted by Craig Jonners Johnston the pioneering boot maker) stood up and said, "it's true, our Anne said he was a right sleazebag, and our family knows sleazing let me tell you."
All of a sudden, Ron Yeats (I presume he's still alive and ok- who knows?) then stood up and applauded with tears of joy in his eyes. "It's true! But no one at Anfield has ever been brave enough to say it out loud." A ripple of applause started which then turned into a thunderous raputure of a thousand ipads pointing at each other. The catharsis was immense. A Malaysian fella next to me asked who Emilyn Hughes was as he'd never seen him in the Premier League. Due to the Speziale Brau affecting (effecting? who cares! My Pulitzer is in the post said the Echo so why should I correct myself?) my sense of time was shattered. He is one of the greats. The Malaysian lad looked baffled, is he a youth player for the current greatest red team ever? His sense of time must also have been warped and he thought it was the 70's when we were last dominant. Yes lad, it is I said sadly.
1:00pm I saw a t-shirt. There's the caption over my face with the words, "ALDO BACKS AGAINST THE WALL" I don't get it? then I read beneath my face and it said "TO PUSH OVER THAT WALL"
I guess I am always pushing at the the walls of ignorance. It's what I do in my award winning Echo column. Gotta rush, Sherreee Murphy is about to do her singing act.
1:30pm Disappointing from Sherry there. No Robert De Niro's Waiting or Cruel Summer and missing Venus of her playlist was obviously just messing with the fans. And I didn't understand why she was talking about dingles either.
2:00pm That good Rushie was laughing at me, saying how he'll take my place just like when he came back from Italy. What a big nosed weirdo. I have bopped in one in the honker but his mate Prince Andy was with him and looked super calm and relaxed like a coiled spring. Even out of my gourd, I know not to touch someone who doesn't even sweat in the presence of danger. Rushie throws his speedos at me for wrestling in. Looks like he's kept a kitkat or two in his kecks and they'd melted too. Didn't taste like kitkat mind, probably a weird Welsh lamb or seaweed flavoured one.
Good job I'm all oiled up and ready for Rushtlemania. I'm first in the ring, I have a quick swig from fanta and I'm brutally smacked around the back of my head by Peter Beardsley swinging a chair. Take that you scruff says the misshapen geordie attacking wonder. The big stand is going mental. Then pour in the 4 Jeremies. Corbyn grabs Beardso, and Clarkson goes to town on him whilst Kyle is shouting who's the daddy to him. Hunt though is useless - a real waste of space. Carrol comes flying in to prevent Beardso getting even more uglified. It's completely brutal, but enough of Beardso, the violence is sickening. Barreling in after them is the Jawdee Nation tag team of Ant, Dec, Jimmy Nail and Ross Noble. It's mayhem! Clarkson is sucking on crocodile shoes whilst Noble is feeding Corbyn home made blood jam. Maybe it's the effects of this Spezial Brau as I'm on fire. I'm using my patented move and webbing them like pigeons. I get that Ant and block him from that nugget Dec - Kapow.
Bloody hell - Rocket man starts playing and then Elton John and David Furnace fly into the ring from the top of the big stand (it's like a seated Mount Everest) and start like Saturday night's alright for fighting. It's carnage, who knew Elton John would be such a hooligan? Then in comes Sting for Carroll's mob and sneaks up on Sir Elton and is about to put him to sleep with his danger hold as he takes every breath that Sir Elton makes. There's only one thing for it. I use the classic redman tactic and grab a paving slab and smash it on Sting's head! The referee is well narked off and says did I hit him with a slab? Not me! I was sleeping when it happened.
The referee has turned around and sees Elton John sat on Andy Carroll's face. He drops and gives the pony tailed injury the 3 count, and Elton's only gone and won it! The only men left standing are Sir Elton (who is sitting), Kyle who is hiding, and me and I'm still flying. The crowd is loving it. You can see that ancient chang is sloshing though the punters and the kop is seeing full pockets as no one wants to miss the action. It's just like the old days!
A huge grand piano is lowered onto the (wrestling) ring and Sir Elton serenades the bravest man he knows, me- the Amazing Aldo - with a song about me being an English rose burning in the wind. It's beautiful. I cried.
3:00pm Carroll and his goons are loaded onto an ambulance.
4:00pm The ambulance have just finished being rocked, so they can go off to hospital. Don't catch the Chinese fru losers!
4:30pm A little old man comes on to the stage with I think the Rangers and bitter bloo Michael Ball. The old man is described as a captain, I didn't know Milner had been given the honour. Anyway fair dos to Ballsy, he does a cracking rendition of the greatest tune known to man. Everyone in the crowd has a lyrics sheet so it's a very good rendition. Ballsy says he'd like to thank Aldo (nice one), Liverpool FC (well said sir), Liverpool the city (steady on now) and the NHS (What the actual... those layabouts are too busy sticking barometers up people's chute to do anything useful.) - but the punters are all applauding so I guess what do I know. I don't know what to say, but it's bittersweet - Aldofest is a raging success but I'm not in the big game at 5. How can I get that feeling across to everyone?
4:31pm A quick 15 minute segment from John Bishop and everyone feels like me now- still excited but very very sad. I never thought I would say it, but well done Bisho.
4:55pm Rushie has the captain's armband on. I hate you rushie! i see the celebrity 11, there's Gary Barlow in goal, and Ricky Tomlinson in central defense saying, "my arse" repeatedly. Sue Johnstone and Tarby are as dynamic a midfield as you could want to see, and up front it's Bobby Firminho!!! Bloody hell he's looking rough mind, and then I get informed that it's actually Mel C out of the Spice Girls. The rest of them are just a bunch of gobsh*tes.
5:00pm And Clive Thomas blows the whistle and it's off. I can't near to watch but Kenny calls me and says to sit down as I'm still on the bench. How can you have Djimi on the field and not me? Disgraceful. Kenny explains that this match will count as one of our actual games in this year's league so we'll get another 3 points if we win, but I might fail a drugs test if I play and the league would be tainted if that happened.
5:05pm Tarby crunches Dundee just inside the area. His jokes don't fool Thomas or Clattenburg up in the VAR room - penalty! Rush puts the ball down but Dundee pushes him aside as he was chopped, he's taking it. And he side foots it through Barlow's legs. Take that Gary effing Barlow you effing wool donut. This is looking good. Very good indeed.
5:15pm An extra from Eastenders who is just mad about the redmen tustles with Big Raze and Raze has to pass it to Picnic who slices it behind his own line for a corner. Sue Johnstone with a cultered left peg hoists one into the mixer and it bounces off Tomlinson's behind and through Spaghetti leg's legs. "My Arse!" Bloody Djimi didn't pick him up. 1-1. It's tense. No more tense than the fact I need to use the toilet. All that fanta has generated some awful back pressure.
5:20pm A Mazy run from a lad who used to be on Hollyoaks and who was taken to the game by his uncle but now can't get a ticket because of the huge demand. He jinks left and then right and it's laid off and Mel C hits the post. Bloody hell redmen, what are you doing?!? Kenny looks worried. In the other manager's seat a newly reinflated Spanish waiter is writing something in his pad. He keeps saying fact. I'm worried.
5:30pm Bishop who apparently playing the Djimi Traeore role jogs past our bench and shouts at me, hey Aldo look under your seat. Bloody hell it's the Premier League Trophy! I vacate my fanta filled bladder into it until it's full to the brim. I am about to put the lid back on and my little fella away. I'm feeling great. But a sudden shout distracts me.
5:40pm Demba Ba has come on for Bisho. Mark Thomas has come on for Tarby who was walking a tightrope with his disciplinary record. It's like a nightmare. The Reinflated Spanish Waiter then blows his wad by taking the Eastender off for Raheem Sterling who recognises me from last night from running off with the trophy. I'm bang to rights to be fair as I'm clutching it with my little fella still inserted into it. Oh what am I going to do.
5:46pm Thomas honks a screamer into the top right leaving Spaghetti Legs for dead.
The players are dejected. Kenny is a ruined man, I'm despondent. At least the fans are all chowing down on a tasty madras and chang combo. They don't seem fussed. I trudge off to the dressing room with the trophy, trying to hide it under a big towel. Aldofest is not going how I'd have planned to tell the truth. I think I might be having a come down from the speziale brau.
12:31pm "..nt and no mistake. Princess Anne said he also smelt like dog faeces."
Well you could have heard a pin drop!
Prince Andrew who was there for the predator convention panel (hosted by Craig Jonners Johnston the pioneering boot maker) stood up and said, "it's true, our Anne said he was a right sleazebag, and our family knows sleazing let me tell you."
All of a sudden, Ron Yeats (I presume he's still alive and ok- who knows?) then stood up and applauded with tears of joy in his eyes. "It's true! But no one at Anfield has ever been brave enough to say it out loud." A ripple of applause started which then turned into a thunderous raputure of a thousand ipads pointing at each other. The catharsis was immense. A Malaysian fella next to me asked who Emilyn Hughes was as he'd never seen him in the Premier League. Due to the Speziale Brau affecting (effecting? who cares! My Pulitzer is in the post said the Echo so why should I correct myself?) my sense of time was shattered. He is one of the greats. The Malaysian lad looked baffled, is he a youth player for the current greatest red team ever? His sense of time must also have been warped and he thought it was the 70's when we were last dominant. Yes lad, it is I said sadly.
1:00pm I saw a t-shirt. There's the caption over my face with the words, "ALDO BACKS AGAINST THE WALL" I don't get it? then I read beneath my face and it said "TO PUSH OVER THAT WALL"
I guess I am always pushing at the the walls of ignorance. It's what I do in my award winning Echo column. Gotta rush, Sherreee Murphy is about to do her singing act.
1:30pm Disappointing from Sherry there. No Robert De Niro's Waiting or Cruel Summer and missing Venus of her playlist was obviously just messing with the fans. And I didn't understand why she was talking about dingles either.
2:00pm That good Rushie was laughing at me, saying how he'll take my place just like when he came back from Italy. What a big nosed weirdo. I have bopped in one in the honker but his mate Prince Andy was with him and looked super calm and relaxed like a coiled spring. Even out of my gourd, I know not to touch someone who doesn't even sweat in the presence of danger. Rushie throws his speedos at me for wrestling in. Looks like he's kept a kitkat or two in his kecks and they'd melted too. Didn't taste like kitkat mind, probably a weird Welsh lamb or seaweed flavoured one.
Good job I'm all oiled up and ready for Rushtlemania. I'm first in the ring, I have a quick swig from fanta and I'm brutally smacked around the back of my head by Peter Beardsley swinging a chair. Take that you scruff says the misshapen geordie attacking wonder. The big stand is going mental. Then pour in the 4 Jeremies. Corbyn grabs Beardso, and Clarkson goes to town on him whilst Kyle is shouting who's the daddy to him. Hunt though is useless - a real waste of space. Carrol comes flying in to prevent Beardso getting even more uglified. It's completely brutal, but enough of Beardso, the violence is sickening. Barreling in after them is the Jawdee Nation tag team of Ant, Dec, Jimmy Nail and Ross Noble. It's mayhem! Clarkson is sucking on crocodile shoes whilst Noble is feeding Corbyn home made blood jam. Maybe it's the effects of this Spezial Brau as I'm on fire. I'm using my patented move and webbing them like pigeons. I get that Ant and block him from that nugget Dec - Kapow.
Bloody hell - Rocket man starts playing and then Elton John and David Furnace fly into the ring from the top of the big stand (it's like a seated Mount Everest) and start like Saturday night's alright for fighting. It's carnage, who knew Elton John would be such a hooligan? Then in comes Sting for Carroll's mob and sneaks up on Sir Elton and is about to put him to sleep with his danger hold as he takes every breath that Sir Elton makes. There's only one thing for it. I use the classic redman tactic and grab a paving slab and smash it on Sting's head! The referee is well narked off and says did I hit him with a slab? Not me! I was sleeping when it happened.
The referee has turned around and sees Elton John sat on Andy Carroll's face. He drops and gives the pony tailed injury the 3 count, and Elton's only gone and won it! The only men left standing are Sir Elton (who is sitting), Kyle who is hiding, and me and I'm still flying. The crowd is loving it. You can see that ancient chang is sloshing though the punters and the kop is seeing full pockets as no one wants to miss the action. It's just like the old days!
A huge grand piano is lowered onto the (wrestling) ring and Sir Elton serenades the bravest man he knows, me- the Amazing Aldo - with a song about me being an English rose burning in the wind. It's beautiful. I cried.
3:00pm Carroll and his goons are loaded onto an ambulance.
4:00pm The ambulance have just finished being rocked, so they can go off to hospital. Don't catch the Chinese fru losers!
4:30pm A little old man comes on to the stage with I think the Rangers and bitter bloo Michael Ball. The old man is described as a captain, I didn't know Milner had been given the honour. Anyway fair dos to Ballsy, he does a cracking rendition of the greatest tune known to man. Everyone in the crowd has a lyrics sheet so it's a very good rendition. Ballsy says he'd like to thank Aldo (nice one), Liverpool FC (well said sir), Liverpool the city (steady on now) and the NHS (What the actual... those layabouts are too busy sticking barometers up people's chute to do anything useful.) - but the punters are all applauding so I guess what do I know. I don't know what to say, but it's bittersweet - Aldofest is a raging success but I'm not in the big game at 5. How can I get that feeling across to everyone?
4:31pm A quick 15 minute segment from John Bishop and everyone feels like me now- still excited but very very sad. I never thought I would say it, but well done Bisho.
4:55pm Rushie has the captain's armband on. I hate you rushie! i see the celebrity 11, there's Gary Barlow in goal, and Ricky Tomlinson in central defense saying, "my arse" repeatedly. Sue Johnstone and Tarby are as dynamic a midfield as you could want to see, and up front it's Bobby Firminho!!! Bloody hell he's looking rough mind, and then I get informed that it's actually Mel C out of the Spice Girls. The rest of them are just a bunch of gobsh*tes.
5:00pm And Clive Thomas blows the whistle and it's off. I can't near to watch but Kenny calls me and says to sit down as I'm still on the bench. How can you have Djimi on the field and not me? Disgraceful. Kenny explains that this match will count as one of our actual games in this year's league so we'll get another 3 points if we win, but I might fail a drugs test if I play and the league would be tainted if that happened.
5:05pm Tarby crunches Dundee just inside the area. His jokes don't fool Thomas or Clattenburg up in the VAR room - penalty! Rush puts the ball down but Dundee pushes him aside as he was chopped, he's taking it. And he side foots it through Barlow's legs. Take that Gary effing Barlow you effing wool donut. This is looking good. Very good indeed.
5:15pm An extra from Eastenders who is just mad about the redmen tustles with Big Raze and Raze has to pass it to Picnic who slices it behind his own line for a corner. Sue Johnstone with a cultered left peg hoists one into the mixer and it bounces off Tomlinson's behind and through Spaghetti leg's legs. "My Arse!" Bloody Djimi didn't pick him up. 1-1. It's tense. No more tense than the fact I need to use the toilet. All that fanta has generated some awful back pressure.
5:20pm A Mazy run from a lad who used to be on Hollyoaks and who was taken to the game by his uncle but now can't get a ticket because of the huge demand. He jinks left and then right and it's laid off and Mel C hits the post. Bloody hell redmen, what are you doing?!? Kenny looks worried. In the other manager's seat a newly reinflated Spanish waiter is writing something in his pad. He keeps saying fact. I'm worried.
5:30pm Bishop who apparently playing the Djimi Traeore role jogs past our bench and shouts at me, hey Aldo look under your seat. Bloody hell it's the Premier League Trophy! I vacate my fanta filled bladder into it until it's full to the brim. I am about to put the lid back on and my little fella away. I'm feeling great. But a sudden shout distracts me.
5:40pm Demba Ba has come on for Bisho. Mark Thomas has come on for Tarby who was walking a tightrope with his disciplinary record. It's like a nightmare. The Reinflated Spanish Waiter then blows his wad by taking the Eastender off for Raheem Sterling who recognises me from last night from running off with the trophy. I'm bang to rights to be fair as I'm clutching it with my little fella still inserted into it. Oh what am I going to do.
5:46pm Thomas honks a screamer into the top right leaving Spaghetti Legs for dead.
The players are dejected. Kenny is a ruined man, I'm despondent. At least the fans are all chowing down on a tasty madras and chang combo. They don't seem fussed. I trudge off to the dressing room with the trophy, trying to hide it under a big towel. Aldofest is not going how I'd have planned to tell the truth. I think I might be having a come down from the speziale brau.
TGW89
Player Valuation: £35m
Seriously mate, I advise you to get on the blower to Blink Publishing and show them these diaries, this is a work of art. They published a book called Big Sam's Guide to Life in 2017, and this is actually 10x better.
To escape the potential wrath of the beak, maybe swap Aldo for a stereotypical Norwegian kopite, or a posh southerner (Tarquin?) and put him through the same ordeals - might need to remove references to walls etc if getting book published. We couldn't GAF obviously, but people are very sensitive these days as we know.
Do that and you have a serious shot at Waterstones.... once we're out of lockdown.
Keep it up Yaargh, this is the only thing keeping us sane! Can we have a cameo from another blue perchance? like maybe Niasse double teaming Aldo with purple nathan at the Lisbon - having crashed his car into a load of covid coppers, obviously.
Dario Terracotta
Player Valuation: £70m
Is it wrong to actually start revering Aldo?I raise a speziale brau to you Yaargh sir
lol
lol
Yarrgh
Player Valuation: £80m
18/04/20 Part 3
5:47pm Kenny is giving us all a rollicking. "This means more!" he is shouting. Then he says, we should pull ourselves together as we have a special motivational talker to inspire us
5:48pm It's Ranger's supremo and ex leg end Stevie G (He must have given the rozzers the slip last night, nice one). But who is that with him? It's only the instantly recognisable face of the CEO of the Premier League! It'sRichard Scudamore David Pemcil Susannah DInnage Ricardo Masters! Just in case we can't finish the league, we're going to count this game as a game against the rest of the league! It will count double so 6 points up for grabs explains Masters. Oh my god, finally the authorities are trying to help us out to what we deserve. What about last year when you awarded it unfairly to City says Djimi (nice one Djimi, that's the most useful contribution to the reds you ever gave). Masters looks glum and mumbles something about City getting more points - yeah too ashamed to admit you're wrong Masters you bitter nugget. What about VAR not giving us owt says McAteer and everyone starts laughing - nice one Jase, always a one-liner from him.
5:49pm We're all huddled up and Stevie G tells us all that this means more, as we are der mighty redmen. It means more so we can't let it slip! As it's so important a match, they waive the drug testing rule so even if there's traces of speziale brau in the players we will be fine. Kenny tells Souey that he's off and should be out demonstrating his foxtrot, and that Stevie G will take his place. Luckily Stevie G still has his old kit on under his clothes including shinnies.
5:51pm The cheers from the crowd outside and sounds of Len Goodman over the tannoy let us know that Souey is doing his piece to raise spirits. Masters then says that there's just one problem, those dozy mancs have only gone and lost the trophy itself. Slippy G tips me the wink. I step forward and reveal the trophy. You've saved the day! I'm made up and to be fair it goes some way to making up for not being on the pitch.
5:55pm We're heading up for the second half when disaster! Danny Murphy has sprained his groin when he was tapping the "This is Anfield" sign. We need another player - whose fit and ready? Could it be...
5:56pm Kenny looks at me and says that I've took too much of a pounding in the ring today (from Rushtlemania obviously- which probably explains the other Aldofest t-shirt - I guess Lawro the Mentalist must have seen that coming a mile off) and spots little Sammy Lee -how about you Sammy? I feel a bit week boss, like Popeye I need my spinach. I get the trophy from Masters and say to Sammy, drink the contents of this. Well there must have been a lot of Speziale Brau left in the system because he's whirring around like Speedy Gonzalez (First name Mark, if you forgot who he was - yeah me neither, thanks google).
6:00pm The lads are on the pitch and I'm there on the bench. At least I have the best seat in the house. I only wish I was out there on the pitch. The oppo traipses on. Oh my god, Big Purps is on at the back with another lad who I don't recognise but as soon as the game starts he looks handy.
6:10pm Bloody hell Clive Thomas, won't give us anything! Stevie made a perfectly fair 2 footed lunge at Demba Ba and even though it fell short of the criteria for assault and battery, he gets a yellow card. VAR required. Sterling takes the free kick straight into the wall. There's plenty of empty seats though which is odd - the games just re-started and as far as I know the corporate facilities is just dishing up madras and chang.
6:15pm Efffin' hell, I'm fewming here. The opposition are a right bunch of cockwombles, they've just scored a third. 3-1. What are they playing at? If we don't win this I'll murder someone I'm that mad. The stands are emptying. I don't blame them this is rubbish.
6:20pm Rushie misses a sitter. Stevie G is telling him to act his age not his fiancee's. Harsh words there.
6:25pm Aldo there's a problem! It's Kieran. It's the madras and chang - everyone is camped out at the toilets. The situation is critical. Bloddy hell, 3-1 down and now this. I'm lost here.
6:26pm Dundee trips over his laces in the other side's penalty box and collides into big Gary Barlow. Penalty! Finally we've had something from the ref. But it's looking serious for Dundee. Kenny turns around - are ye ready Aldo? Am I ever! I'm onto the pitch like a w@nker up a traffic light. I barge those poor excuses for players Stevie and Rushie away, Aldo's penalty lad!
6:27pm I lash it in the back of the net. The ball is burst and they need a new one. I think that I'm more Speziale Brau than human now. How do you like that Nathan? I ask and the mystery centre half says, great stuff - Eddie Howe at Bournemouth says you were always good in a penalty situation. Who asked you guy? I.m talking to Ake! BigPups and the mystery guy say but I'm Ake! in unison. Turns out that I'd made a tremendous blunder! The mystery lad is actually Nathan Ake and the other guy is Purple Aki! McAteer says well that's a gibbon and everyone is in pleats. No idea but is this the time for levity with all to play for? I have to give Big Purps a a good pumping over all this. Didn't know you played for the other side lad? Oh Aldi you are terrible, show us your muscles! Big Purps aye! What a rascal.
6:31pm 3-2 and the mighty Reds are pressing hard into the final third. McAteer cracks one off for Sammy Lee to charge down. He keeps it in play but mis-hits the cross in, and it finds Big Raze on the edge of the box who puts it onto the post just beyond Barlow. And who should pop up at the back post to put it away but Aldigoallllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll. 3-3! I'm on fire. I'm literally the greatest player to ever have played the game. The reinflated Spanish waiter is having kittens on the touchline and Kenny is looking serene and is so calm now that he has cracked open a kitkat and having a good crunch. Nice one Kenny, save some for the rest of us. But there's trouble in the stand. Keiran is waving frantically.
6:32pm The madras has swept like the Chinese fru after a Madrid game. It's pandemonium, the big stand has became the biggest diarrhea fountain in the world. Open the sceptic tank someone shouts. John Henry is panicking but we don't mean him, we need to open the pit and relieve the pressure. But there's no time, wave upon wave of red 5hite overflows everywhere. It pushes the wall over and flows onto the pitch.
6:33pm Clive Thomas is looking appalled.All you can see of Pierluigi Collina on the touch line is his baldy head and the brown paper bag he was carrying floating on top of the madras and chang induced crap pile. I take my chance and Stevie G takes the ball off Demba Ba in sweet sweet vindication of absolutely bottling the league, and slips it to me. The goal looks as wide as Barlow has had to go off the field to relieve himself after partaking in a madras too at half time. I am just about to ping it in from 6 yards, not even Ronnie Rosenthal could miss, and then a pigeon flaps into my face from nowhere. I'm blinded. It only takes a split second and I find myself dispossessed by Big Purps. Noooooooooo. And then Clive Effing Thomas blows the whistle. Surely a pen! No he's calling the game off for health and safety reasons.
6:43pm The stench is terrible.I guess this was another one for Lawro the Mentalist to explain that slogan Open up with Aldo at Analfield. It's just terrible, but at least we can finish off the game later. Perhaps behind closed doors. Or in a neutral venue in the midlands. Or in August. Even we could push the UEFA competitions back a year and next season?
6:45pm The game is cancelled. What?!? Where's the justice in that. We were clearly the best team and would have won it. Richard Masters comes in and tells us he's sorry but that's it for the season. Aldofest has ended the 2019/2020 season in spectacular fashion and football is not safe. Djimi again proves his worth, and asks about the league title. Masters says he'll think about an asterick.
7:00pm It's like a scene from the Somme out there, that major Tom is having PTSD. Pull yourself to gether, this means more. John Henry is crying - he is touched deeply I think. No he is just upset that the profit will have to go to clear up the human excrement all over anfield. He's crying beause it's 10% more than the usual amount and it cost a fortune. He tells me to eff off and never return.
7:15pm trudge off dejectedly past the Norwegians and Malaysians and lads from Essex all trying to get a St Jordan's ambulance out of the area. Should've watched it in the pub like normal says one. First time I could ever get a ticket says another. At least it was another trademark magical Anfield night under the spot lights says another - and do you know what, maybe it was.
8:00pm Starts raining. Typical the first day I don't check my barometer.
9:00pm Our Joan greets me at the door. Did you score? Yes two times and got robbed for the third. Oh dear she says. You just missed Elton and David Furnish, they're just left for a celebrity tug of war at DidierDrogbalooza. Sounds boss that. Onto twitter to see what they say.
10:00pm the internet is off the hook! Red Sh*te cause ban for English clubs (realise that I had that browser window open since 1985) but the news today also has the same headline. Apparently Pep came back and took the trophy. It's not fair - I have to get out of the box room and leave my redmen bretheren.
11:00pm Our Joan realises that it didn't work out as planned. And she has a nice surprise. Go get greased up she says. Lads I'm in! Get to slot my hat-trick if you will as McAteer would joke. I'm in bed with the lights off, when our Joan comes in. She says she strapped it on and can I bend over. What for? The Ainsley Harriet she says. I bet she got me some celebration sausage for eating in bed! I bend over to find it, but she grabs me and pulls down my undies. Easy our Joan! Wait a second what are you doing? What the eff, that's my bottom you nugget. She goes Yer blocked! Stop Jo-owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!
5:47pm Kenny is giving us all a rollicking. "This means more!" he is shouting. Then he says, we should pull ourselves together as we have a special motivational talker to inspire us
5:48pm It's Ranger's supremo and ex leg end Stevie G (He must have given the rozzers the slip last night, nice one). But who is that with him? It's only the instantly recognisable face of the CEO of the Premier League! It's
5:49pm We're all huddled up and Stevie G tells us all that this means more, as we are der mighty redmen. It means more so we can't let it slip! As it's so important a match, they waive the drug testing rule so even if there's traces of speziale brau in the players we will be fine. Kenny tells Souey that he's off and should be out demonstrating his foxtrot, and that Stevie G will take his place. Luckily Stevie G still has his old kit on under his clothes including shinnies.
5:51pm The cheers from the crowd outside and sounds of Len Goodman over the tannoy let us know that Souey is doing his piece to raise spirits. Masters then says that there's just one problem, those dozy mancs have only gone and lost the trophy itself. Slippy G tips me the wink. I step forward and reveal the trophy. You've saved the day! I'm made up and to be fair it goes some way to making up for not being on the pitch.
5:55pm We're heading up for the second half when disaster! Danny Murphy has sprained his groin when he was tapping the "This is Anfield" sign. We need another player - whose fit and ready? Could it be...
5:56pm Kenny looks at me and says that I've took too much of a pounding in the ring today (from Rushtlemania obviously- which probably explains the other Aldofest t-shirt - I guess Lawro the Mentalist must have seen that coming a mile off) and spots little Sammy Lee -how about you Sammy? I feel a bit week boss, like Popeye I need my spinach. I get the trophy from Masters and say to Sammy, drink the contents of this. Well there must have been a lot of Speziale Brau left in the system because he's whirring around like Speedy Gonzalez (First name Mark, if you forgot who he was - yeah me neither, thanks google).
6:00pm The lads are on the pitch and I'm there on the bench. At least I have the best seat in the house. I only wish I was out there on the pitch. The oppo traipses on. Oh my god, Big Purps is on at the back with another lad who I don't recognise but as soon as the game starts he looks handy.
6:10pm Bloody hell Clive Thomas, won't give us anything! Stevie made a perfectly fair 2 footed lunge at Demba Ba and even though it fell short of the criteria for assault and battery, he gets a yellow card. VAR required. Sterling takes the free kick straight into the wall. There's plenty of empty seats though which is odd - the games just re-started and as far as I know the corporate facilities is just dishing up madras and chang.
6:15pm Efffin' hell, I'm fewming here. The opposition are a right bunch of cockwombles, they've just scored a third. 3-1. What are they playing at? If we don't win this I'll murder someone I'm that mad. The stands are emptying. I don't blame them this is rubbish.
6:20pm Rushie misses a sitter. Stevie G is telling him to act his age not his fiancee's. Harsh words there.
6:25pm Aldo there's a problem! It's Kieran. It's the madras and chang - everyone is camped out at the toilets. The situation is critical. Bloddy hell, 3-1 down and now this. I'm lost here.
6:26pm Dundee trips over his laces in the other side's penalty box and collides into big Gary Barlow. Penalty! Finally we've had something from the ref. But it's looking serious for Dundee. Kenny turns around - are ye ready Aldo? Am I ever! I'm onto the pitch like a w@nker up a traffic light. I barge those poor excuses for players Stevie and Rushie away, Aldo's penalty lad!
6:27pm I lash it in the back of the net. The ball is burst and they need a new one. I think that I'm more Speziale Brau than human now. How do you like that Nathan? I ask and the mystery centre half says, great stuff - Eddie Howe at Bournemouth says you were always good in a penalty situation. Who asked you guy? I.m talking to Ake! BigPups and the mystery guy say but I'm Ake! in unison. Turns out that I'd made a tremendous blunder! The mystery lad is actually Nathan Ake and the other guy is Purple Aki! McAteer says well that's a gibbon and everyone is in pleats. No idea but is this the time for levity with all to play for? I have to give Big Purps a a good pumping over all this. Didn't know you played for the other side lad? Oh Aldi you are terrible, show us your muscles! Big Purps aye! What a rascal.
6:31pm 3-2 and the mighty Reds are pressing hard into the final third. McAteer cracks one off for Sammy Lee to charge down. He keeps it in play but mis-hits the cross in, and it finds Big Raze on the edge of the box who puts it onto the post just beyond Barlow. And who should pop up at the back post to put it away but Aldigoallllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll. 3-3! I'm on fire. I'm literally the greatest player to ever have played the game. The reinflated Spanish waiter is having kittens on the touchline and Kenny is looking serene and is so calm now that he has cracked open a kitkat and having a good crunch. Nice one Kenny, save some for the rest of us. But there's trouble in the stand. Keiran is waving frantically.
6:32pm The madras has swept like the Chinese fru after a Madrid game. It's pandemonium, the big stand has became the biggest diarrhea fountain in the world. Open the sceptic tank someone shouts. John Henry is panicking but we don't mean him, we need to open the pit and relieve the pressure. But there's no time, wave upon wave of red 5hite overflows everywhere. It pushes the wall over and flows onto the pitch.
6:33pm Clive Thomas is looking appalled.All you can see of Pierluigi Collina on the touch line is his baldy head and the brown paper bag he was carrying floating on top of the madras and chang induced crap pile. I take my chance and Stevie G takes the ball off Demba Ba in sweet sweet vindication of absolutely bottling the league, and slips it to me. The goal looks as wide as Barlow has had to go off the field to relieve himself after partaking in a madras too at half time. I am just about to ping it in from 6 yards, not even Ronnie Rosenthal could miss, and then a pigeon flaps into my face from nowhere. I'm blinded. It only takes a split second and I find myself dispossessed by Big Purps. Noooooooooo. And then Clive Effing Thomas blows the whistle. Surely a pen! No he's calling the game off for health and safety reasons.
6:43pm The stench is terrible.I guess this was another one for Lawro the Mentalist to explain that slogan Open up with Aldo at Analfield. It's just terrible, but at least we can finish off the game later. Perhaps behind closed doors. Or in a neutral venue in the midlands. Or in August. Even we could push the UEFA competitions back a year and next season?
6:45pm The game is cancelled. What?!? Where's the justice in that. We were clearly the best team and would have won it. Richard Masters comes in and tells us he's sorry but that's it for the season. Aldofest has ended the 2019/2020 season in spectacular fashion and football is not safe. Djimi again proves his worth, and asks about the league title. Masters says he'll think about an asterick.
7:00pm It's like a scene from the Somme out there, that major Tom is having PTSD. Pull yourself to gether, this means more. John Henry is crying - he is touched deeply I think. No he is just upset that the profit will have to go to clear up the human excrement all over anfield. He's crying beause it's 10% more than the usual amount and it cost a fortune. He tells me to eff off and never return.
7:15pm trudge off dejectedly past the Norwegians and Malaysians and lads from Essex all trying to get a St Jordan's ambulance out of the area. Should've watched it in the pub like normal says one. First time I could ever get a ticket says another. At least it was another trademark magical Anfield night under the spot lights says another - and do you know what, maybe it was.
8:00pm Starts raining. Typical the first day I don't check my barometer.
9:00pm Our Joan greets me at the door. Did you score? Yes two times and got robbed for the third. Oh dear she says. You just missed Elton and David Furnish, they're just left for a celebrity tug of war at DidierDrogbalooza. Sounds boss that. Onto twitter to see what they say.
10:00pm the internet is off the hook! Red Sh*te cause ban for English clubs (realise that I had that browser window open since 1985) but the news today also has the same headline. Apparently Pep came back and took the trophy. It's not fair - I have to get out of the box room and leave my redmen bretheren.
11:00pm Our Joan realises that it didn't work out as planned. And she has a nice surprise. Go get greased up she says. Lads I'm in! Get to slot my hat-trick if you will as McAteer would joke. I'm in bed with the lights off, when our Joan comes in. She says she strapped it on and can I bend over. What for? The Ainsley Harriet she says. I bet she got me some celebration sausage for eating in bed! I bend over to find it, but she grabs me and pulls down my undies. Easy our Joan! Wait a second what are you doing? What the eff, that's my bottom you nugget. She goes Yer blocked! Stop Jo-owwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!
I’m hoping he’s walking amongst us again.
bigjonny
Player Valuation: £35m
With a barometer where the sun doesn’t shine.
Yarrgh
Player Valuation: £80m
It'd just be a rehash of the Cookachoo diaries from a while back! lol
PaulPowersTash
Player Valuation: £15m
Truly a classic.
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