http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PoP
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pop_(disambiguation)
I'll go with Persistent organic Pollutant.
RAWK Goes Into Meltdown | 2013/14
- Thread starter Buchan
- Start date
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/PoP
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pop_(disambiguation)
I'll go with Persistent organic Pollutant.
You're once, twice, three times a lady
Rawkite said:
if true their reactions should be funny
It's starting already, mate. They are after switching their attention to Lamela now. One poster pipes up and says the Italian press are reporting Lamela to Spurs is also on the cards. They are lamenting Lamela now.
Poor sods.
2 wins from 2. no goals conceded and Brenton says they are winners!!
IT IS ON!!!!
IT IS ON!!!!
A new season, a new redesign of the Scouse Boom-Bust cycle, credit goes to Lex from the newbies, my cousin.
Why did that need a redesign? What are we supposedly crediting your cousin for?
Is all he's done change the background colors to something completely unrelated to Liverpool?
Tell your cousin the redesign is shit and the original doesn't need changing
Don't feck with the formula. It has served us well.
Slevs.
Slevs dooms his cousin to a noob life sentence.
He doesn't even post anymore
What's the guy's problem? If he wanted to leave then fine, but there's no need to slam the door on the way out.
You're just a bad for facilitating this insult.
To be fair the choice of font on the original was shit.
I took about 5 mins looking between this and the old one to see whether was different. fecking slevs and his cousins.
Slevs' cousin is a dick. Who agrees?
Seconded.
Well, he is a dick by association alone, so...
this altered one look so.. polished, fake, and not original. Should be done on Man City.Slevs
Seems your poor old cousins going to have to get promoted the hard way
Seems your poor old cousins going to have to get promoted the hard way
I think it, you all discuss it in the thread. Well played.I think this year the cycle will revert to normal. Last year it was pretty much "Off" from the start. This time, they already have 6 points and us to play next. With Moyes supposedly there to bring us down, hopes will be as high as ever on the weekend.
They had some good stuff this weekend.
-(Cardiff 3 Man City 2) Nice seeing title rivals drop points
-The other top teams look sketchy, this is our year isnt it??
-I suppose there's always a chance (Manchester) City collapse under a new manager and let us into the top 4 at their expense
-(Spurs 1 Swansea 0) Ref clearly bent here
This is strange:
“Err Hullo, Deevid? Ish ShurrAliksh here. How err you boy?”
“Ohhhch, Am fine Mishtur Fergeeeshon. How err the wifenkidsh?”
“<hearty laugh by Alex>. I’ve a toldeeya before Deevid, itsh Shurr. Don’t you be forgettin laddeh”
“Sorry ShurrAliskh, cannae still have a job like?”
“Nooh. Now pish off back teh Everrhunn”
“Sorry ShurrAliskh, cannae pleeze?”
“Try harder”
“Sorry ShurrAliskh, cannae pleeze? Al bring Baines and Furlayneh?”
“I want eh Spanish player”
“ohkeh borsh, al bring Jageeyelka. He sounds Spanish”
“<click>”
“Hullo? Hullo? Aliksh?”
At Fergie’s home, David camps outside. The large black gates impose themselves upon him similar to those that his neighbours at Liverpool
“ah bloodeh black gatesh again. I cannae win against em”
As the rain lashes against his rough and disheveled face, David wonders where it’s all gone wrong. He had it. He had it all. Money, fame, a privilege in a city that no other had. A privilege that he alone held that esteemed title of being a boss for 10 years and being a winner without ever winning anything. Trophies followed him. Yes. Trophies followed him.
He didn’t need trophies to be a winner. He needed Alex.
<loud buzz of intercom>
“Hullo?”
“Ish *** Catheh?”
“Who is this!?, Issat you Deevid? AGAIN!!!”
“Yuss, Yuss its shmee. Help me. Pleeze.”
Well we all know what happened next. As Mr Ferguson looked up from his TV and turned down the volume, Grease was still playing in background and David again began daydreaming. He loved that Travolta. Even after the whole Xenu and Zebedee stuff came out.
...Oh Moyeseee bayyyybeee
Can’t you see
When Everton is done (horn horn horn horn horn)
You’ll get a call
Crawl up his arse
There’s nothing shameful my son
In heaven forever
He’ll shit and you’ll wonder whyee whyee whyee whyee whhhy
You left them
Oh Moyeseee
“Ach, sign here shonny. It’ll be okeh in tha mornin’ (hic)”
“Err Hullo, Deevid? Ish ShurrAliksh here. How err you boy?”
“Ohhhch, Am fine Mishtur Fergeeeshon. How err the wifenkidsh?”
“<hearty laugh by Alex>. I’ve a toldeeya before Deevid, itsh Shurr. Don’t you be forgettin laddeh”
“Sorry ShurrAliskh, cannae still have a job like?”
“Nooh. Now pish off back teh Everrhunn”
“Sorry ShurrAliskh, cannae pleeze?”
“Try harder”
“Sorry ShurrAliskh, cannae pleeze? Al bring Baines and Furlayneh?”
“I want eh Spanish player”
“ohkeh borsh, al bring Jageeyelka. He sounds Spanish”
“<click>”
“Hullo? Hullo? Aliksh?”
At Fergie’s home, David camps outside. The large black gates impose themselves upon him similar to those that his neighbours at Liverpool
“ah bloodeh black gatesh again. I cannae win against em”
As the rain lashes against his rough and disheveled face, David wonders where it’s all gone wrong. He had it. He had it all. Money, fame, a privilege in a city that no other had. A privilege that he alone held that esteemed title of being a boss for 10 years and being a winner without ever winning anything. Trophies followed him. Yes. Trophies followed him.
He didn’t need trophies to be a winner. He needed Alex.
<loud buzz of intercom>
“Hullo?”
“Ish *** Catheh?”
“Who is this!?, Issat you Deevid? AGAIN!!!”
“Yuss, Yuss its shmee. Help me. Pleeze.”
Well we all know what happened next. As Mr Ferguson looked up from his TV and turned down the volume, Grease was still playing in background and David again began daydreaming. He loved that Travolta. Even after the whole Xenu and Zebedee stuff came out.
...Oh Moyeseee bayyyybeee
Can’t you see
When Everton is done (horn horn horn horn horn)
You’ll get a call
Crawl up his arse
There’s nothing shameful my son
In heaven forever
He’ll shit and you’ll wonder whyee whyee whyee whyee whhhy
You left them
Oh Moyeseee
“Ach, sign here shonny. It’ll be okeh in tha mornin’ (hic)”
What in the actual feck is that?
Link to that please. I need to see the reactions more than the post itself.
Jesus!!! What's that?!
I think the author confused Fergies accent with that of Sean Connery.
“<hearty laugh by Sean>. I’ve a toldeeya before Deevid, itsh Shurr. Don’t you be forgettin laddeh”
Fixed.
Adding a 'z' to 'please' makes it Scottish
I suppose the writers on Mrs Browns Boys need to do something to keep them sharp between seasons.
I suppose the writers on Mrs Browns Boys need to do something to keep them sharp between seasons.
Ha ha ha. What a great story, Mark RAWK.
...... .. .......... ...... feck off.
God PoP is a condescending wanker. Even when not talking on things of coaching and the like. I bet he's some tubby fecker sitting in his mums basement full kit wanking to the game every weekend.