Liverpool FC, # 22 Simon Mignolet

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Op zaterdag 9 augustus 2014 17:56 schreef JR-Style-93 het volgende:

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Ach ik heb ook wel eens Oleguer daar gezien, daar word je niet vrolijk van

Loopt hij ook op spelers af,kan hij ook niet een pass geven van 2 meter en wordt die ook voorbij gedribbeld door fucking Carroll?

quote:

Op zaterdag 9 augustus 2014 18:01 schreef JR-Style-93 het volgende:

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Vast wel.

Laatst kwam ik nog iemand op FOK! tegen die Johnson daadwerkelijk een goede back vond

Oh, dan ben ik blij met Johnson

Diegene vond Babel ook zeker beter dan Ronaldo(op RAWK zei iemand dat in 2008...)
Sws is RAWK best wel grappig soms.


Ik moest hier toch wel om lachen

Van RAWK Man U oefenwedstrijd...

really who gives a shit about the result? maybe for some its hard to swallow the defeat because we played manutd, but we played with 3rd and 4th choices players ffs, get a grip

Nu we toch dit topic moeten vol spammen. Ik vond dit ook geniaal.

Absolutely pathetic, insipid 'performance'.

And you know what? Some of us fecking called it. Every single season without fail there's a game like this. You can smell the fecking bastard in the air. You know it's coming. It only takes one or two injuries to make our squad and first team look utterly weak as piss and without a clue, and that's what we got this week. Look at that Hull side on paper and it'd be lucky to stay in the top half of the fecking championship let alone the premier league, and we just had to go and make them look like world-beaters.

This is why it's so fecking cringeworthy when you have to hear some people talk up our chances as soon as we get close to the top. We're just not that good. We're still a mile off from a title challenge, and yet some of you really can't help yourselves. It's like you've never seen us before or something. We do this ROUTINELY. It's not just a flash in the pan or a strange anomaly of a result which nobody could foresee. I feckING FORESAW IT. It happens all the time. If it's not Hull, it's Reading. It's Barnsely. It's Wigan. It's Watford. It's some other piece of fecking turd side who will be down in the bottom three come May. And it's 3 points others will get quite easily, routinely, while we come unstuck.

How can you start a fecking game with Agger AND Sakho on the bench while Toure (a free transfer who hasn't played the last two games) and Skrtel (someone you were desperate to be rid of ALL LAST SEASON) instead, with the inexperience of Flanagan, a fecking right back playing left back? Two left-sided CBs sit on the bench while you play a right-sided CB on the left side of defence. Really? feckING REALLY?

And how can you watch Moses and Sterling constantly give the ball away for 45 minutes, bring them in at half-time, and then START THE SAME SIDE AGAIN for the second half? Are you fecking high? Are you actually trying to lose a game of football? It didn't work. For 45 minutes, it didn't work. So, is it A) time to bin this and make changes in order to win the game, or B) play the exact same formation, players, and tactics for 20 minutes extra in some bizarre fecking hope that it magically starts working? Jesus tittyfecking Christ, how much of a fecking c**t do you need to be to do that? What the living feck do you think is going to happen? Is your half-time team talk so breathtakingly inspiring that Victor fecking Moses is suddenly transformed into fecking Batigol? Are you that good? Is your voice like fecking honey? JUST TAKE THE c**t OFF. START AGAIN. DO SOMETHING.

I'll be honest, I'm fecking livid. Livid. Livid with spending £7m on a defender we never see, £14m on two players you don't use, and loaning in a player who's about as much use as a dildo fecking sandwich, while I have to watch Kevin fecking Strootman go for less money, to a side who aren't even in Europe, and boss the holy shitmunching feck out of Roma's midfield every pissing week. I have to watch that because apparently there isn't a single c**t on the scouting team who can find him playing for PSV, and would much rather our midfield was eaten alive by two Spurs rejects and a balloon's son. You fecking spastics.