Idiot’s guide to human society: shamelessly flog your insufferable crud to people who don’t want it for many more buttons than they can feasibly afford. Idiot’s guide to the football transfer window: shamelessly flog your crud to people who don’t want it for ma- well, you get the picture. Come now! Gird the loins of…
Enjoying your pristine boxed copy of International Superstar FIFA Fever Pitch Striker for the Segabox Supertendo? I thought so – it is, after all, the most sought after computerma-vidja game of Christmas 2016. Allegedly, Lionel Messi queued for ten hours outside his local Poundsavah (Buenos Aires) to get it, fighting off two old ladies and…
Welcome, my dear Laticians, to the Margarine Zone. Moments before your freshly buttered slice of lovingly-prepared toast hits the filth-encrusted kitchen floor with a sickening bliff-spludge, you have a very brief opportunity to prevent the seemingly inescapable. If you actually manage to grab the toast, you feel incredible for the rest of the day. You…
Guest intro by George Orwell’s Millennial grandson (AKA me). We’re not supposed to talk about 2014-15. We’re expected to pretend it never existed under threat of extreme consequences. And goodness knows your average small time Internet weblogger would rather be writing about Gary Caldwell’s jumpers and Jordi Gomez’s beard right now. But I really wish…
Two short years ago, the Championship was a ruddy tough league. So what does that make it now? A voracious beast fuelled by a gruesome stew of broiled fifty pence pieces and minced five pound notes? Each of its seven mutant legs commits a foul simultaneously, and a bleary-eyed, damp-groined referee daren’t penalise a single…
Phew, I’m finally back at the ‘office’! Please excuse the cartoon-esque marks on my clothes and scruffiness of my hair. Also apologies for the lateness of this ‘report’ – I have only just arrived back in Wigan after being rerouted via Rainford, Liverpool Lime Street, Southport and Preston train stations. That bridge collapse at Wigan…
That’s it, I’m done forever. I hereby renounce my faith in statistics, and encourage anyone with a fondness for this gentle sport to do the very same. Say it along with me now: “I refuse to analyse football in a mathematical or scientific manner. I will no longer attempt to quantify the patently unquantifiable, nor…
At present, Wigan Athletic Football Club is a clickbaiter’s dreamland. Ever been irritated by those seemingly fabricated headlines staining the sidebar of prominent Latics news sources? In recent times, they have become pants-splittingly real. “What Roberto Martinez is doing now will shock you.” “Man United ace on his way to the DW?” “Former Blues manager…
Move over, Burger King – this is the age of the Car Park King. That may sound like the punchline to a teatime-friendly Richard Whiteley ‘joke’ (mostly because it is). But the modern practice of unearthing monarchs buried beneath supermarket car parks has a direct correlation with footballing success. Leicester’s recent Premier League triumph? Well,…
Ah, the solution is at hand! Is it any great coincidence that Captain Gareth B. ‘Kop Conqueror’ Caldwell was sacked on World Pasta Day, of all moderately amusing food-related pseudo-holidays? Picture, if you will, the scene in Rigalettos on a mildly mild Octember evening… Sharpy: How can you order anything but farfalline on this most…
In he strides, brazen as a drunken nudist with a flashy new haircut. He carefully selects a single packet of rust flavoured corn snacks from the shelf before spinning on the spot and winging his way to safety within seconds, ill gotten gains secured for another day. This is the life of Gary the Gull,…
79 inches. If you want to beat that, you’ve got a lot of early morning stretches to complete. Competition is stiff – Dan Burn has already reached that height and is growing by the day. Like Pinnochio’s habile hooter, his legs increase in length with every attacker he folds neatly into a small envelope contained…