Game 2: Aberdeen vs Ross County

So we try to pick ourselves up from our quite creditable slaughtering at the hands of the Little People (try saying that without imagining an Irish accent)... the Little People... and we're going to be up against the second worst shower of shite in the league, Ross County.  They sit above us only because they're one goal less shite than we are. If we're going to pick up the points needed to see us attain that glorious 8th spot by season's end we need to be beating teams like this bunch of fucking teuchters, and no mistake.

We're going to be keeping the attacking formation that stood us in such good stead against Celtic, we'll be man marking, but we'll be blootering long balls upfield because, frankly, our passing abilities aren't going to cut it.

The teams read:

Contrary to what I thought, this is our first home game of the season, not an away game.

We're going to be sticking with Clangers in goals, because according to the coaches this Briant guy I bought is even worse than Langfield. While I find that hard to believe, can you imagine if that turns out to be true?  fucking hell. Can't risk it... mustn't risk it... must sign traffic fucking cone...

So Game 2 of the season is about to get under way, and I have absolutely no doubts whatsoever that this is going to be pish of the highest order.  Are we ready?  Then let's begin.

Once upon a time....

Aberdeen vs Ross County

Well, deary me... this is dismal stuff.  Have you ever watched a bunch of five year olds try to play fitba? Well, imagine they're playing with a beachball, and they're all seriously mentally handicapped.  That's how bad this is.  Our long ball blootering doesn't seem to work, and County have the better of the opening few minutes...

The first 'highlight', and I use the word 'highlight' only in the loosest of loose terms, is when U21 starlet, and next young player to fuck off to England on the promise of 5k a week and a flash car, Ryan Jack, loses the ball in midfield. County's Vigurs skins the Dons lad, eventually the ball finding its way to Brittain, who slices the Aberdeen defence open with a brutal pass to Rocco Quinn, who controls the ball and hammers it into the net at Clanger's near post.

Well, look at that.  Beaten at the near post.  That wouldn't happen in real life, eh?

Ex QotS man Quinn cups his ears and runs along the RDS, taunting the casuals and mouthing 'Wankaaaas' like he's the cock of the walk.

It's 1-0 to the sheep shaggers.  To clarify that... 1-0 to County.

Chris Clark tangles with Rocco Quinn. "Not in the face!" squeals Clark like a fucking girl

I must stress that our game plan hasn't fallen apart, however. This is largely because we have no game plan. I do plan on shouting at them at half time, though... that aught to work.

We immediately go on the offensive, but our ineffectual attack is typified by Naysmith's 50 yard backpass when we should be applying pressure.  The fuck?

The first half toddles towards its unexciting end, and the score stands at Shaggers of Sheep 0 - Shaggers of Sheep 1

Half time sees the promised shouting, and Rae is pulled for being absolute gash. Low takes his place with orders to not be shite.

The second half sees us come out of the traps like narcoleptics at a comfy bed convention, with County dominating us like they're 11 lovely, fluffy pillows. A snap shot from Wohlfarth forces a save from Langfield inside the first couple of minutes, and Clangers immediately maintains the pressure on us by throwing the ball straight out for a County throw. He might look like the bastard lovechild of Terri Schiavo and a fairground coconut, but he's not even that good.

Here's that in visual form, in case it wasn't clear.

Despite Langfield and Reynolds' best efforts, however, we are coming more into this game, and on 53 minutes two corners are won in quick succession. The second finding the head of Considine, whose looping header defies County's Fraser and settles in the back of the net.  It's all square, and Aberdeen's solid defender, who kinda scares me to look at his face, has hauled the Dons back into this game.

Is it his mouth is too big for his face? Is that what scares me?

Anyway, 1-1 it is and we are definitely on the ascendancy here. 

66 minutes played and McGinn carves the County defence apart, finding the left boot of Vernon... he's clear of the County defence, he shifts the ball from his left foot to his other left foot, and with the gaping goal at his mercy....

....and so it remains 1-1.

Aberdeen continues to dominate the closing minutes, but with Hayes and McGinn both busy this game peters out to a 1-1 conclusion. 

Well, it's better than last week's result, but I think Vernon is going to be warming the bench if he doesn't sort his shit out right quick. I don't have much patience for fannybooting around like this.  It should have been 2-1 to the Dons, but Vernon... you let us down.

The good news is that our fabulous draw sees us creep up to within one place of Craig Brown's favoured position of 9th in the table. 

We sit in 10th spot.  Who can stop us now?

Well, it's St Johnstone in Perth next, so the answer is probably "St Johnstone"

Game 1: Celtic vs Aberdeen

Season 2012-13:  Game 1  Celtic v Aberdeen

This is it... Gamo Numero Uno of the 2012-13 season, and it's a toughie.  They don't get any toughier... it's the potato-eating munchkins from Glasgow Celtic of Ireland at their 400,000 capacity Stadium (Seville Calculator) The Parkhead Tattiedome.

Celtic: This is all you need to know about Celtic.

Since the demise of the Blue Filth, the Green Filth have upped their game and been twice as fucking obnoxious to make up for it. Led by tactical 'genius'  Neil the Ginger Potato Lennon, a man so ugly he's been described as EEEEEEK! by medical experts, the Glasgow Potato of Ireland Celtic are expected to romp the SPL without even fielding 11 players.

While this is probably true it would be nice if we could stick it right up the arses of all 5 million screaming Timmy retards (Seville Calculator) at the Parkhead Potatodome.

Let's get this game fired up and see what happens, shall we?

The teams line up as follows. Just ignore all the extra shit, this screencap came from the end of the game.  It's the best I could do without putting any actual effort into it. That's going to be something of a theme, btw, halfarsedry. That's a good word.  Halfarsedry. Anyway, as usual, click on the image and it gets bigger. How good?

The referee I assume looks at his watch, Mickey Mouse's hands say it's something o'clock, and the game... and the season.. are under way.

The early pressure, as is to be expected, is all Celtic's as they race forward like Celtic supporters at a Free Buckfast Morning at their twelve kids' nursery school. On they come, led by Freaks reject Scott Brown.. and just to bring this up, because I notice no fucker in the media has, how similar to the Freaks in the movie Freaks does Scott Brown look? I can't be the only one to have noticed this, surely?

Surely to fuck someone else has noticed?

LOOK OUT! THERE'S ANOTHER SCOTT BROWN BEHIND YOU!

Fucking Mong.

Anyway....

It's all Potato People in the early exchanges, as they hammer at our shaky defences like... I don't know... something hammery, I can't be fucking arsed thinking of simile. Suffice to say the cunts are all over us like a fat kid on a bar of chocolate. Oh, there's one.

It's only a matter of time before our defences are breached, and with 6 minutes gone it's the mong himself who engineers the goal.  Wanyama and Brown exchange passes, before Brown whips in exactly the kind of lovely cross that he's not known for in real life, and Hooper rises like a jumping salmon on a Spacehopper fitted with Rocketboots, to nod the ball past Jamie Langfield, and that's the opening goal. It was coming... oh, it was coming more definitely than a Polish sailor on my whore ex's tits was coming... that's how inevitably it was coming. But, fuck me, Hooper literally jumps 6 feet off the ground to get to the ball?  That's not even physically fucking possible, is it?  Who programs this fucking game? Fuck off.

I'M RICKY ROCKETPANTS!

So with the still warm Polish jisms running down our big old titties, it's 1-0 to the boghoppers, and there's 84 minutes of unresisted tittyfucking still to go.  Kids, if you're reading this, Uncle Kelt has a dirty mouth, so don't repeat anything you read on this blog in the presence of an adult.  Not even the word Tittyfucking.. that's a bad word. As is jisms. In fact, if you read a word and you're not sure what it means, just assume it's bad.

Anyway... it's 1-0 to Rashellick, and shit just got real, bitches.  That's Americaspeak.

Pareunia this for a game of soldiers. 
The Terrorist sympathisers seem quite pleased with themselves, and Fatty McLennon chucks another celebratory pie into his stupid, toothless gub, like Desperate Dan eating one of his famous Cow Pies.... if Desperate Dan were a ginger cunt. Johnny Hayes uses this moment of Irish Jubilation to take the ball for a run up the line, a run that terminates inside the Celtic box as the ball is punted out for a corner by some nameless Tim defender.  The corner is whipped in, it is unceremoniously humped up the park and falls to a retreating Gavin Rae who, unexpectedly, rifles in a 20 yard volley while backing away from goal.  Well, that was out of the blue, and an almost immediate if unlikely response.

Rape Face. This is what Gavin Rae's looks like. 

  Potatohead goes silent, and Lennon starts crying about how he wasn't loved as a child to every journalist within a ten mile radius. "Oi Jaaas waaaaned tuh beh looved!" he slavers in his disgusting Oirish accent. Saliva and pie dribble down the front of that two sizes too small tracksuit that he insists on wearing... and what the fuck is up with that tracksuit?  does he think he's still the svelt XXL he was during his playing days?  

Put on a bigger tracksuit you repulsive Pikey potato. 

So, incredibly, that's Celtic 1 - Aberdeen 1.

This lasts all of ten minutes.  Once more the Dons fail to deal with a cross, this time from Chalmers, and Lassad is there to head the ball in from point blank range.  Langfield can't believe it, he thought he had it covered, standing completely still and not attempting to prevent the ball from going into the net as he was. Surely Scotland's  best goalkeeper (if every other goalkeeper in Scotland suddenly died) will be kicking himself for not getting to that one.

What the fuck's going on here, do you reckon?

So, not incredibly, it's 2-1 to the Riverdancers.

Goal hero Rae picks up a booking on 37 minutes for apparently having had enough of looking at Brown's mental coupon, and does the only decent thing and decks the Celtic troglodyte just because. Even the Celtic fans applaud, because they have to put up with that face week in week out. Rae will have to be careful here, another booking and he can shoot up the road early before traffic gets bad.

With only a couple of minutes of the half left, the Brown Hooper combination... ever had a brown hooper?  Of course you have... the Brown Hooper combination combines once more to create the stuff of goals. A Brown flick on baffles the Aberdeen defence, and Hooper charges through to bury his second and Celtic's third.

This is more like what I expected.  Maybe I'll change things at half time.  Maybe not. The excitement is overwhelming.

Half Time: Celtic 3 - 1 Aberdeen

The second half sees a slightly improved Aberdeen, with several good looking moves down the flanks. The referee and linesman are programmed accurately, however, and any time it looks like we might be putting something together the match officials find some obscure reason to halt play and give possession back to the fuckers in green.

It isn't until the 73rd minute of the match before another goal is scored, and it's a cracker from bearded Greek ladyboy, LadyBoy Georgios Samaras.

McCourt picks up a loose ball in the box, and with three Aberdeen defenders watching him decide what to do, he eventually dinks an unchallenged ball onto the boot of Georgina, who gratefully rifles a shot into the back of Langfield's bag of onions.  It's 4-1, and there's a good chance we may lose this game if I were to be entirely honest here.

And, indeed, that does it for this game.  A crushing 4-1 trouncing at the filthy hands of the inbred Leprechaun people.  A quick look at the league tells us, oh, we're bottom.

Sack Kelt

The Highlights, should you be interested, are up.

Well, that didn't go according to plan, and our aim to finish above previous manger Craig Brown has suffered an early setback. Still, there's lots of games to go, and with a positive mental attitude and a fuckload of good fortune we may yet climb our way up to that mythical 8th spot before the season is out.

The only bright spot is that the goalkeeper hasn't had a save to make.

Next up, away to Ross County, the team above us by way of being one goal less shit than we are.

So that should be pish.

No More Trees, Please, Jesus!

Okay... see, here's what just happened.

The next game had been played out to a thrilling, if fortuitous 2-2 draw between the might of Berwick and the Awesomeness of Aberdeen. It was a pretty pish match with nothing of note occurring, and I figured I'd just post the score and move on to the beginning of the season.

 But I didn't save the game.

Then a tree fell down outside my house and knocked the power out. I'm not a religious person, but I'm taking this as a sign from God that he wants the match replayed and the report posted up online.

So, just for God, mind... and to ensure no more fucking trees come flying out of nowhere... I'm replaying the game (I have to anyway) and posting up the match report. Next time he could go after my first born, or dump locusts on my crops, or turn my wife into salt. Let's not fuck with the mythical superbeing, that's my philosophy.

Preseason Match 3: Berwick v Aberdeen


The teams are as follows. Click for a larger view.

The third and final preseason game pits the Dons against one of only two English teams to play in Scotland.  Berwick Rangers.  The other English team being Sevco, the newest team in the second tier SFL league structure.

And on a breezy July afternoon, the game kicks off... and Aberdeen score.

It takes a total of what, 23 seconds, for the Dons to pass the ball front to back, and hammer a tree-mendous goal from the edge of the area past the flappy McCaldon. That was quite good, actually.  It's 1-0 the Dandies, and Berwick must be wishing they'd stayed in England.

For the next 13 minutes the Berwickites, Berwickonians, Berwickipedias... what do they call themselves... get tighter than a Japanese schoolgirl's legs in a room full of horny Muslim rapists. But this only last for so long, and a Pawlett pass into the box finds Milsom waiting to pounce for his second of the game. The man from England playing in Scotland, is on for a hat trick against the team from England playing in Scotland.  That's quite funny, if you don't put too much thought into it.

Hi, I'm Rob Milsom and I'm only taking up half this picture.

No more goals come from either team in this first half, so it reaches half time Berwick 0 - Aberdeen 2.

Nicky Low's a bit tired, no doubt out on the lash the night before and has a heid like a broth pot, so Nial 'Goldenballs' McGinn O'Leprechaun takes over in the advanced midfield role on the left. Let's see how that works out.

Berwick look up for the second half, while Aberdeen look a little jaded. This is possibly because my half-time team talk basically called them a bunch of cunts, despite being 2-0 up.  It was an attempt at reverse psychology that has backfired.  Play rages towards the Dons goal almost unabated, but a quick break up the field sees, who else but Milsom smash the ball home for his third of the game. It's a one man show here today, and the English ginger overcomes both disabilities to show that even the most disadvantaged can be heroes.

3-0 The Dandies.

Outside I'm hearing a lot of chainsaws and heavy machinery.... hang on...

...Typical.  They're removing the branches, and they've one guy working while three others look on doing fuck all.  That's where my taxes are going ladies and gentlemen... paying four cooncil workers to do one man's job.  This is what's destroying our industry....  that and the Unions, amirite?

After this the game basically degenerates into a series of wild and aimless passes that merit neither watching nor discussion.  So that's that for the last preseason game of preseason.  A solid 3-0 win, a hattrick for Milsom the Ginger English, and a fucking tree RIGHT outside my hoose that means I have to literally drive 3 fucking miles out of my way just to get to the end of my own road.

In summary, get it up ye, you Berwickisian pricks, and no more trees, please Jesus... I have bowed to your omnipotent fury and posted the match report.

All hail the angry Skydaddy.

What's Black and White and Red and Negro All Over

Pre-Season Friendly Match Report Number 2.  Now with NEGROES!

With a slight drizzle dreeping from the skies above the godforsaken hole-de-merde' that is East End Park... and to almost immediately go off on a tangent, East End Park was also the name of a baseball ground in which the Houston Monarchs played the girly sport of Baseball in the 'Negro League'. So-called because everyone who played in that league was a negro. Just a fun fact for you to sit there and chew on for a while. The name implies exactly what it's all about. League full of players who are negros... let's call it the Negro League.

With that kind of unassailable logic at our disposal, let's just call the SPL by it's implied name.  The Shite League of West Coast Handshaking and Backscratchery.   Of course SPL is probably easier to remember, although massively inaccurate.

Anyway, there's only a handful of negros playing in todays match up between two of Scotland's more terrible professional football teams, Dunfermline and Aberdeen.

Isaac Osbourne... he's a negro, so's that Magennis fella.  That's pretty much it for the Dons' negro contingent.  And for Dunfermline, well, amazingly they're fielding no negros today.  They ARE fielding Andy Kirk, though... and while Andy Kirk is whiter than Casper the Ghost there IS a famous negro by the name of Andy Kirk.  A musician and songwriter from the 20s. Andy Kirk and his 12 Clouds of Joy, that was what his band was called.  Presumably the rain pissing down over East End Park is coming from some of Andy Kirk's 12 Clouds of joy...

...I'm not making any of this shit up, by the way... this is all totally verifiable stuff. Go ahead and Google it.

Hello. I'm Andy Kirk, and I'll be your Negro for the day.

So, with the aforementioned drizzle dreeping down on the largely Caucasian contingent at the Scottish East End Park, the Bastard in the Black blows his little whistle and we're under way with the Dons' second pre-season game of the... preseason. 

The Dons hit the ground running and a darting run in the opening seconds by Aberdeen's Shrek-on-a-starvation-diet-looking winger, little Johnny Hayes, sees him sending a dangerous ball into the Pars box. Unfortunately Irish genius McGinn is off formalising a peace treaty with the IRA or whatever the fuck it is those Irish types get up to, and with Cammy Smith also posted missing the ball ends up in the very white hands of Dunfermline keeper, Hrivnak... which is less a surname and more of a blatant chancing of one's arm at Scrabble.  Of course, white hands are no guarantee that the person is a white guy, right?  Some of them have white hands, don't they?  The Negros, I mean.  I've seen them. Pretty sure I have.  Anyway, this Hrivnak lad is for sure white. 

\

Just checked online, and confirmed I was right about the White-handed Negros. I'm rarely wrong about these kinds of things. 

A series of ineffectual, limp-wristed 'crosses' define the opening 20 minutes thereafter, with neither the Dandy Dons or the Sub-Pars... hahaha, I totally just came up with that... able to exhibit any form of soccerballing ability at all. This is poor Soccerball. Do I not like this Soccerball.

Then, with 23 minutes gone, a shocking, and most-likely racially-motivated, assault occurs when young Aberdeen defender Shaugnessy ruthlessly, savagely, and awesomely scythes down popular negro Andy Kirk.  The referee has no choice but to laugh hysterically, and book the Dons youngster. It's the first yellow of the match, and really the only thing approaching 'excitement'.

31 minutes on the old clockboard, and Kirk gains revenge in juicy fashion.  With the ball bouncing around the Dons' box like a social disease in a Catholic household, the negro musician leaps onto a Thompson pass and fires the ball into the net past the unbelievably not good Jamie Langfield.  

If there had been a crowd, it would have gone wild.

It's 1-0 to the white guys in black and white, and the mostly white guys in red are left red faced, except the negros who remain black because of the dark pigmentations and suchlike.  It's not racist  if it's true.

The first half continues to see Dunfermline probe our soft rear area with long, probing efforts, but despite their hardest efforts they fail to penetrate our box a second time.

Half Time" Dunfermline 1 - 0 Aberdeen

Following a cheery and motivational half-time speech, in which manager Me threatens to rape each and every one of the players, starting with the youngest, the Dons come out of the traps as if fighting for their very anuses. 

Dunfermline's Morris states his own intentions early, by catching the ball and getting sent off. Obviously his intention was to catch the ball and get himself sent off, and all credit for showing total commitment to those intentions. So with Dunfermline voluntarily reduced to 10 men the fightback might be on.

With 53 minutes gone, the Godlike striker from the Emerald Isle, Seamus O McGinnigan, streaks forward, takes a short pass from Crawford, and sends an unstoppable shot bulleting past the despairing hands of the Dunfermline shot-stopper.  

McGinn may look dopier than a sack full of sedated elderly sloths, granted, but stick a pair of football boots on this fucker and you know shit's going to get done properly. 

I LIKE SHINY THINGS! YAAAAY! I LIKE SHINY THINGS! McGinn celebrates

Dunfermline struggle to keep the Dons at bay, now, as the heroes in red sweep forward in seemingly endless waves,  like Russian soldiers in that film with Jude Law and the chick from The Mummy... she got her tits out in The Constant Gardner... seeking out the winning goal that would win the game for the men from the north. 

90 minutes come and go, with the Dons players battering away at the shaky Dunfermline defences, time and again only the woodwork, desperate saves and the fact we've only one player who knows how to kick a ball in a straight line (See; McGinn, Nial) prevents Aberdeen from hitting the net.  It seems a draw is the inevitable outcome. 

With 92 minutes on the clock that tells you how long you've played, young Cammy the Jizz Sock Smith picks up the ball on the edge of the Dunfermline box, looks up, and fires his hot load of football all over the back of the Dunfermline net.  It's a last gasp winner for the men from Pittodrie, and Dunfermline's defences have failed them at the last. 

Get it up you, you racially ambiguous cunts. 

Final Score: Dunfermline 1 -2 Aberdeen

Preseason: Game One

Dumbarton 0   -   3 Aberdeen

In what could be billed as the Battle of Two Teams That Suck, Aberdeen gets preseason game number 1 under way.  

With 6 minutes on the clock, the soon to be injured Pawlett bursts from his own half, feeding a through ball to Johnny Hayes.  Hayes tees up to shoot, and is cynically chopped down inside the box by some dude called Graham. An early penalty for the Dandies. Can we put this away?  

Pawlett steps up and fires the ball past the unmoving goalkeeper. I mean this guy doesn't even try to save the pen. What a tit. It's 1-0 the Dons, and I get the impression this won't be too hard a game.

14 minutes gone. Osbourne is carded for a pretty innocuous tackle. Unfortunately this tackle is compounded by Osbourne being a black fella, so into the book he goes. Hopefully Ozzy can dial back the black for the rest of the game. 

Osbourne: Black fella

26 minutes in, Osbourne dinks a neat little ball into the box, and Vernon shows his predatory instincts by sort of having the ball bounce off him and beyond the flailing arms of the Dumbarton keeper. It's 2-0 and easy street here we come. It's one-way traffic now, and the Dons are scampering forward at every opportunity. Bless them.

The rest of this half sees the Dons pepper the Dumbarton goal with some fairly inept efforts, but none make their way into the net. Half the First ends with the Dons comfortably 2 goals up.  

The second half begins the way the first half ended, with the Dons hammering away at the Dumbartonites like a drunken sailor on my hoor of an ex girlfriend. Unlike my ex, the Dumbartonies are NOT loving it. Fuck that hoor.

With 53 minutes gone, Osbourne, who has been guilty of repeated black guy, finds himself summoned by the referee yet again. It's a second yellow for the midfield general, and he only has himself to blame. Despite ample warning about being a black dude he continued to be a black dude from the beginning of the second half. The referee has no choice but to send the Dons man off. This is what pre-season is all about, though, and with luck Ozzy can work on that aspect of his game before the season begins in earnest. 

It isn't until the 78th minute that Gavin Rae, Aberdeen's 70 year old midfield fogey, lofts a lovely through ball to Hayes, who takes full advantage of the pass and hoofs it clean into the onion bag. It's 3-0, and Dumbarton can fuck themselves. 

And that's it, more or less. The game winds down in a series of sclaffy midfield battles until the referee blows for full time.  It's a rare win for Aberdeen, marred only by Osbourne's persistent blackness. 

We can now look forward to the game against the slightly less appalling Dunfermline in a few days time with an element of confidence.  

We'll probably get fucked, though.

What have we got here... oh, the usual four hundred fucking friendly matches to get through before even starting game one?  K, then let's just cancel the friendlies versus every team that will beat us... adios Sevilla, Auf Wedersehen Wolfsburg, fuck off Manchester United..  That leaves us with three friendlies, against Dumbarton, Dunfermline and Berwick. Three teams full of hopeless twats that we should just about scrape draws against.  I say should, but don't get your hopes up.  This could head south pretty fucking rapidly.

In order to mitigate my total lack of knowledge of the transfer market, because let's be fair, Craig Brown (The departing Aberdeen manager) has an alleged encyclopedic knowledge of the game, I'm going to use Genie Scout to see if I can find any useful players who can slot into the team.

First things first, let's punt anyone who's shite, free up some wages so we can bring in players who aren't Chris Clark and Rory Fallon.  According to Scout there's a dude by the name of Yoann Folly who seems to be quite good. Going to give THAT cunt a miss if it's all the same with you. French keeper by the name of Vincent Briant seems pretty mediocre... think I'll snap him up quick so I don't have to look at Langfield monging between the sticks every game.

Just for shits and giggles, let's look at Ozil, see if we can afford him.  Nope.  Not going to happen.  Oh well, if you aim high you might hit the odd target... still, not signing Mr O this season.

Ozil: Not signing for the Dons.

Okay, season expectations... compete alongside the top teams.  Seriously?  You'll be lucky if we don't get relegated.

Oooooh... the board is prepared to give me a transfer budget of NO pounds this year.  Well, thank you Mr Milne... maybe I WILL get Ozil after all. Still, I've lied to the board and told them I reckon I can win the league with this fucking shambles of a team, so I get 42 grand to spend on wages.  Be still my beating heart... I can sign half an EPL player if I sack everyone at the club.

Okay, we have our new goalie in place, we've got shot of Clark and Fallon, we didn't sign Folly, and Ozil will have to wait until next year when our budget will stretch to a packet of Hobnobs (plain) and a nice shiny 50 pence piece for anyone who wants to play for us.

Okay, let's get this fucking show on the road...we're playing the fully featured version, because if you're going to fuck shit up you may as well fuck shit up properly...

...oh, and before we go any further, I should warn you there's going to be a great deal of swearing in this blog. I mean there's going to be a fucking ridiculous number of swearies, so if that's something you have a hard time dealing with then I suggest finding another blog to go read.  There are literally millions of blogs about things like kittens and puppies to check out. Just don't check out, for example, 'I-fuck-kittens-and-puppies.blogspot', because you're probably not going to be any happier reading the goings on over there either...

...disclaimer out of the way, we're going to be playing the fully featured version, as I said, and we will of course be playing as the mighty, incomparable, haven't-won-a-fucking-thing-for-twenty-years-in-Europe's-Most-Piss-Poor-League, Dandy Dons... Aberdeen Football club. The plan is to finish above 9th place, which is, of course, where Aberdeen traditionally finishes in the SPL.

Yay!

YAY!

YAAAAAAAY

Only playing with the Scottish leagues active, because that's all we're concerned with in this awesome blog... go ahead and bookmark it, btw. You'll probably want to come back and check out how the Dandy Dons are doing, I'll wager.  Go on, I'l wait.

Okay, we've got this fucker fired up... get ready for some maximum awesome cool shit!!!!!!!

This shall be the trials and tribulations of Aberdeen Football Club, Scotland's 9th best football team, as played out in the venerable Football Manager Electric Computer Game for PC and Mac.

I'm not particularly good at Football Manager, but then Aberdeen Football Club isn't particularly good at Football. Just ask Skonto Riga, Bohemians of Dublin, that Eastern European mob of bakers that raped us when McGhee was manager, and any local kids who've smacked 10 past Langfield in an ad hoc game at the Duthie Park, or whatever other piece of waste ground AFC trains on since they have zero training facilities upon which to practice their art.

Anyway, before I get into a retard-frenzy rant, let's boot this fucking game up and see what kind of shit goes down.

M'on the Dons!