The Grant Gurnhill football and mayhem blog.

Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay-moosey! It’s 80’sretro-Dobster, back wi’ another one o’ me awesome blogs! And this week’s double jeopardy as I cast me eye o’er last week’s first leg shenanigans and bus-parking that the Brit teams endured in Europe, before assailing yous’all wi’ me insight into the Prem games o’ last weekend. ‘Ang onto yer ‘at -it’s gonna get bumpy peeps!
First, the Chumpion’s League, where we saw the legends of bus-parking themselves, Chelski, travel to France (when people let them on trains…) to face the mighty PSG (ain’t that the additive they put in food?). Joseki’s boys managed to come away with a draw and what could be, yet again, a vital away goal ready for the second leg in Londinium. They rode their luck at times as Sideshow Bob and Zlatan Ibrhimovichovanovoski tried to spoil the party - to no avail. Any sigh of relief disappeared after the game when the news were full of certain fans’ behaviour. Joseki spoke to me on the ferry home afterwards. ‘Dobbie,’ he drooled, ‘white or black, I don’t care - I love all penguins. Marry me.’ He was back on the pop again methinks…

Rio Ferdinand wouldn’t let it lie…


Thursday saw the poor man’s Chumpion’s League and the dropouts therefrom facing up as 4 Brit teams partook. Neverton, looking for their first trophy since Lord Kitchener called for all able-bodied young men to grow a pair, entertained for once, rode the luck of the decisions and ran away 4-1 winners away from home on a plastic tablecloth full of more holes than a Gruyere. Not as impressive when you realised they were playing a team of young boys. Can’t be legal can it? Men and boys - sounds like the 70s Cabinet…
‘Dobbie,’ Roberteo Martini-shaken-not-stirred told me after the game, ‘they were big lads. It was not as easy as it looked. If the ref hadn’t had a Toffee-fetish, we may not have made it through.’ Weirdo.
Twittering Shitspurs lived up to their name as they struggled at home, entertaining Florentine who nicked the draw and the crucial away goal. Where’s ‘Arry Kanyewest when you need him? Oh…was he? Ah… Pottygeno caught up with me in the shower afterwards - so much for the restraining order…
Bore of the night was Ditherfool entertaining the ‘might’ of Besickblah. The reds finally managed to huff and puff their way to a dodgy win, but their return to Istanbul in the return will need another miracle from Gerrard to avoid going home disappointed this time. He’s what? Oh, shit. That’s them out then… Brenda Rodgerer offered me a drink after the game. ‘I knows a little club down this back street we could go to Dobbie.’ I bet you do…
Game of the night was undoubtedly north o’ the border where Celtic eventually turned up late to find themselves 2-0 down. Inter Manamanam (doo doo, doo doo doo) relived their Istanbul nightmare all over again by throwing the lead away, grabbing a third and then watching the Celts crash-and-grab a last gasp equaliser. 3 away goals for Celtic to overturn back in the San Syrup - a bridge too far? We’ll see. I tried speaking to both managers after in the bar, but to be honest, they were all that pissed I couldn’t make head or tale of anything they said. No, it wasn’t their accents! Tush!
What’s for sure is that the team choices and game-plans over the next few weeks as they all go into the second, decisive leg, are gonna be delicious. Hopefully the games will be too.
Onto the Prem, and Saturday saw Little Timmy Shergar’s Nasty Vanillains line up at home to Steak City, who came from a goal behind to break claret hearts and rob all 3 points, 2-1. Timmy must have cried all the way home to his mum in Larndan. Innit. Mark Huge was laughing all the way to the bank though, as Steak are looking good already for the Prem next season.
If Shergar’s heart was breaking, spare a thought for poor Joseki. A 1-1 draw mid-week and the same result come the weekend, all-be-it a slightly different opponent. I missed most of the game running to the loo all afternoon with damned diarrhoea I picked up in Glasgow, only managing to catch the 30th, 33rd, 43rd and 69th minutes, so…what? Really? That was it? Okay. No problem. Not the only shits of the afternoon then…
At least Joseki didn’t try nicking my pundits job - doesn’t he know that it’s me who gets paid to comment, not him. It’s about time he learned that lesson - I don’t go trying to run the National Front do I? Or picking a football team…
Chrysophase Palace’s rise from the ashes took another blow as the 12 men of Arse-nil came to town and rewrote the rules of football in a 2-1 win. Now remember; penalties CAN be given outside the box, and Danny Wellbehaved is NEVER offside. Even when he is. The brave Palace put up a fight to no avail. I asked Arsey Whinger after the game if he saw anyone nicking my car stereo, but apparently he wasn’t looking at the time and missed the incident…
PQRSTU were also dealt a blow even as Dull City’s resurgence continued apace. Dull’s 2-1 win was a great result against their fellow strugglers down the bottom, and if they keep up this momentum and build on it, they may end up safe after all. PQRSTU though? Ooooh, Mrs Miggins…
Blunderland stayed home and proved the pundits right as they recorded their millionth goalless bore-draw of the season against a Best Sandwich Albumen team that was so bored, the ref had to wake them up at full-time. Boy, the night-life in Blunderland must be scintillating…
Luis Van Hire had the comedy moment of the day as he played his usual game of ‘where the fuck do I play all these overpaid prima-donnas?’ and decided to experiment by pinning tails onto his donkeys then sticking them blindfolded onto the pitch. Onesie smash-and-grabbed them whilst they were rubbing their eyes. Luis was too busy preparing his 100 page War-and-Peace document to explain why Gary Monkfish doesn’t know what he’s talking about, and searching for stats to prove that in the space-time-continuum, any ball played in any direction has an equal and opposite effect on the eye of the beholder in any given moment and can deceive the naked human eye into believing that Falcao is worth £300,000 a week. Dickhead. It ain’t fuckin’ Cruyff is it son?
Whilst Van Hire was desperately searching for reasons to be cheerful Part 3 in Ian Dury’s back pocket, Mantreasurechester City decided to turn up for a game now that Ya-Ya’s brought his ball back, and put a frankly shoddy Pewkcastle team to the sword 5-0. And that was generous. It could have been 20. The City were rehearsing for Tuesday and Barca, and the Pewks were the poor mugs who got the show on the road as whipping boys. Poor John Carvedup.

Pellicani greets Ya’Ya Tourettes off the plane.


Sunday saw the fantastic spectacle of Twittering Shitspurs going 2 goals behind to Londinium rivals the Bubbles, only for the usual to happen. I’d like to say it’s too Man Reunited from Fergie time era, and getting boring now, but it’s NOT! Seeing ‘Arry Kanyewest pissing teams off in the final nano-second of every game this season is really quite amusing. And frankly, Best Sham have only themselves to blame with the last-gasp penalty. It’s Adrian I feel sorry for. His previous performance as Vivien in the Young Ones deserves more respect than this.
That was lunchtime, so we were expecting more entertainment mid-afternoon as Neverton hosted rock-bottom Fester City. And promptly did what they always do nowadays - played appallingly, defended badly, and paid £28 million for a guy who can score a hat-trick against young boys, but can’t hit the target from 2 yards against real men. Neverton finally nicked a scammy equaliser they didn’t deserve on their performance right at the end to leave honours even 2-2. Relegation looms if Martini-shaken -not-stirred don’t sort his mob out. Fester, meanwhile, may - and I mean only just may - manage the great escape if they keep up effort and application like this. Maybe.
Final game of the weekend before the Euro games hit again mid-week, saw Ditherfool bore us again with a poor performance and scammy goals that their Blue neighbours would have been proud of. Louthampton really did get Brinks-Matted here, Brenda’s bunch even having the audacity to wear stripy shirts for the game - that matched the official’s. 2 more goals in the GD column for the Dithers, more headache for the Louts who really have blown hot and cold this campaign, and are gonna miss out on any European competition next season if they’re not careful.
And that’s it peeps!
I’m off to pack my woollies and long-johns (really long in my case if you know what Barbie means…)ready for the Winter World Cup. Then it’s a beer and a chill whilst I watch the giants of Mantreasurechester City take on the Mighty Barca (contractual obligation to call them that).
Whatever happened to Hannibal the Cannibal who played for the Dithers…

Sewerage celebrates another tap-in with a fine Cianti and some flesh
See you next week peeps! Don’t have nightmares!

The Grant Gurnhill football and mayhem blog.

Wahay peeps! Dobbie’s back and firing on all cylinders once more! Apologies for me absence last week-me old tendinitis flared up again added to me old back injuries - crazy really - I spend 300 years playing awesome footie at the top level, and it’s the old ballroom dancing injuries that lay me low all the time. All that heavy lifting of Lisa Riley I reckon, and the Samba, shaking me maracas don’t’cha know!
But I’m back on me fleet feet and ready to pummel the punditry once more. Y’all ready for this?
Saturday lunchtime saw the coming together of 2 Londinium giants in one of the bitterest rivalries of the Prem. Shite Fart Lame saw an awesome clash, full-bloodied and old-school, as Twittering Shitspurs hosted the Arse-nil. No quarter was given or taken by either team, and after last week’s slaying of Nasty Vanilla, the Gooners must have thought their 1 goal lead was gonna be the deciding factor in this encounter. Oh, you silly things, as David Bowie didn’t sing once upon a time. Does anyone ever understand that with Ericson Mobile and Harry Kanye-west in the Spurs side, no-one is safe? Kanye-west took his tally up another 2 notches as he broke red hearts all over Londinium, putting in a display that proves continually that Pottygeno messed up at the start of the season by trying to play his bought-in superstars - snigger - when he had a home-grown superstar already in the ranks. The boy done good - as will be demonstrated with Roy Dodgeson - present at the game yesterday - when he announces his next England squad. Watch this space peeps!
After the Spurs put Arsey’s mob to the sword, we saw more unreal shenanigans as Nasty Vanilla finally managed to put the ball in the right net - and against Joseki’s Chelski! The words ‘We should be ashamed’ were surely muttered under Joseki’s breath as the ball entered the onion bag. Chelski mimicked Spurs and finally ran out 2-1 winners, but conceding to Vanilla? Not exactly shaky defending but not as watertight as I’m sure Joseki would like it…
Luckily for Chelski, Mantreasurechester City also played dumb, literally, and conceded at home to Dull City, a team going down faster than a cheap whore in happy hour. The Blue City eventually took a point, but they’re relinquishing their title in a quite appalling and alarming display of ineptitude. Pellicani must be pulling his grey hairs out by the handful. With these performances, next week’s Chumpion’s League game will be their season-defining performance. Let’s wait and see which City turn up - or don’t as the case may be…
Fester City’s Prem status took another blow at home as they went down to the single goal against an impressively resurgent Chrysophase Palace. Nobody would bet against Palace staying up now that the new man has stabilised the ship. The problem is, if Palace manage the miracle of survival, it will be at someone else’s expense. There’s gonna be a lot of teams looking over their shoulder nervously in the next few months, mark my words.
Another team suffering hiccups of late, Louthampton, also stabilised the ship, away to QPRSTU. Okay, so the Louts huffed and puffed and nicked an incredibly late winner as the opposition were leaving the field, but a win’s a win especially at the pointy end of the season. Not that anyone expected any other result what with the Hoops’ performances this season - both on and off the pitch. Hairy Redcap and half the backroom boys have now left through the exit doors, leaving all and sundry wondering once again just what the hell is going on there. Answers on a postcard please to Mr T. Sherwood esquire, c/o Loftus Road.
After stunning the Louts last week with a quite frankly stunning Shelving strike from 300 yards, Onesie took on the Blunders of Blunderland and fought out a tetchy affair that saw much action, and not just of the footballing variety. It may have been a draw again, but at least the Blunders weren’t last on MOTD for once…
If the Londinium derby at Shite Fart Lame was match of the day, the derby on Merseyside was the antithesis of entertainment. Neverton may be misfiring at present, but when the red neighbours come calling, they gird their loins and battle as if they were playing at Waterloo. Goals - nil. Entertainment - nil. Back to Europe next week for both teams in the knock-out phases. Let’s see how much of an effect it has on both team’s season run-ins.
Sunday lunchtime saw another epic battle as BURnleY hosted Best Sandwich Albumen in another full-on encounter that swung one way then the other. The Clarets have a habit of starting great, grabbing a brace, and then disappearing off home for their tea. By midway through the second half they’d yet again squandered a 2 goal lead, letting the Albumen off the hook and hanging on for dear life. By the end, even the unlucky Bear-a-grudge-hino couldn’t finish the job, leaving both teams frustrated, relieved and with a point. BURnleY still struggle, but WBA ain’t doing much better.
Shortly after the sighs were let out at Tuff Moor, The Pewks hosted Steak City at the home of Sports Direct HQ. Unsurprisingly neither could break the deadlock despite netting a goal each. With the Pewks money, and Steak a constant mid-table team, this wasn’t likely to be a fire-starting game. Although Mad Ashley doesn’t help his team, sending half the squad to his Pewkastle B team on loan - that’s DeRangeders for all you Scots out there. He’s gonna regret his shenanigans, mark my words.
Final game of the weekend saw yet another laugh-fest as the amazing story that is Big Sham’s Phoenixes led Man Reunited until yet another last gasp equaliser saved Louis Van Hire from even more abuse than he got. When’s the daft sod gonna realise that Looney and Van Persil could be the best strike partnership in the Prem, and the Millennium Falcao ain’t worth Sunday League wages, let alone the ridiculous sum he’s getting? He’s making David The Chosen One (until next week) Moyles look good. But they won’t get rid, because he’s too big a name, and admitting they were wrong twice (once by sacking Moyles so disgustingly mid-season, and buying the shit they have who just haven’t delivered). Delusion reigns at Mouldy Trafford once more. Champions next season? Winning the Chumpion’s League within 3 seasons? Fuckwit!
As for West Sham - where are all the head-hunters who wanted Big Sham out? Bit bloody quiet ain’t it? Oh how Man Reunited must be wishing they’d got Sham instead the Shambles they did get. Bring on Tony Pulis - he’ll keep ‘em up! Guffaw!
And that’s it peeps! It’s a shorter weekend of games this weekend due to the games coming thick and fast during mid-week now, and no Monday night game to rip to shreds, like a Vanilla defence.
See you soon peeps!