Sandman
Well-known member
So I had time and I have a BT box and I think - some maniacs were speculating that I might check out the Huns for a laugh, so to ge tin the mood for working today I booted up the box and caught the Zombiefest, forwarding through the most unsettling camerawork to kick-off the day with a big dose of SCHADENFREUDE.
Here is a summary. Be careful what you wish for...
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVELY UGLY RATINGS - AYRSHIRE HUNS v REINCARNATED LIVING DEID HUNS
"See they Killie burds, man, ah've pumped every wan o' thum, even the trannies, likesay. An' their Maws. But no' the poofs, man. Didny pump the poofs.
Nah, they pumped me. Weird place fur the shaggin', Killie..."
A.McGregor.
"The Rabbie Berns ting - I don't find that confusin' at all; after all, it's written in Scouse, ain't it?"
S.Gerrard
"Who's a fenian bastard needing cheering up now, travelling Army of Darkness? Me, Jonesy, or Slippy G?"
S.Clarke
"Alwoight? That'll be sixty feckin grend a gawl, Dayve mayte. Cash. Sayme toime next week, 'ave it you sleg!"
J.Defoe
"Do not stare into the abyss lest it stares into you. One man can only absorb so much depravity before he too becomes depraved. Don't watch the Huns too much."
Nietzsche
KEEPERS:
Shagger - 5/10
Wears the vacated look of a haunted Morris Minor abandoned on an industrial wasteland. What a spangle sweetie from the 70s would be like if Pixar animated it.
Often a very good - bewilderingly so - goaltender, but had a stuttering moment at the Jones goal where you could lip-read his challenge to Jones as he edged off his line: 'Fuckin...Hit...i... Basturt!"
Caught out by the shot, weak hand to it; should have done better, lol.
Killie Goalminding Beast Bachmann-Turner Overdrive - 8/10
Like Hodor from Game of Thrones in both appearance and heroic value - he too held the door closed against the zombie hordes and revelled in the spotlight.
Felt he needs to express himself more - like when he resisted the urge to rip off Morelos's head after he slapped the ball into the net with his hands; don't hold back next time, son...
DEFENCES:
Killie - 7/10
Terrible start, static, ball-watching, never laid a glove on them. Once they'd ridden their luck, confidence grew and they got tight, made the tackles, stood up to some rank decisions and generally performed as well as the cabin full of kids in the first Evil dead movie - led and marshalled by big Tshibola dropping deep from midfield to form a five-man rearguard; their own Ash, and even completed the metaphor by throwing on one of the former Evil Dead - the notorious Microwave Egg-Bomber of Hun Hell-hole, Drungan, Ayrshire - Kirk Broadfoot.
THE HUNS - LOL/10
I thought they'd banned animal circuses? Not so at Rugby Park as ringmaster (so rumours have it...) Slippy G and his sidekick Squidward McAllister rolled into town with their performing troupe of werewolves and junkie sloths.
Strange human/moulting fur coat hybrid Worrall - only gets a game cos Slippy thinks it's 'the Wirral' - got his hooves tangled up and slapped his knob on the big red PANIC button just as the Huns were cruising, allowing new honorary IRA brigade mascot Eammon Brophy to live the dream of millions and poke it in the net before
jogging along an entire stand of frothing Orcs with hand cupped to his ear.
Kudos to him for not also masturbating, which is usually how my own such dream ends. Happily.
Beautiful reverse-pedal synchronised dance move by their backline when Jones advanced to score the winner. Andy Halliday was playing, so the comedy handicap was in place.
General all-round incompetence still bemuses me with the fact that mob actually beat us last month. Poses two 'How'questions: 1 - Just, How??? 2 - How bad were we???
MIDFIELD:
Killie - 7/10
From non-existent to quick-pressing and dominant when they forced the issue. Interestingly they didn't go at the Huns the way they seem to go at Celtic on the plastic.
They were content to stay disciplined and play neat stuff when they got possession. They reek of good coaching getting the most out of journeymen. Power was their outstanding midfielder - a Broony-type perfromance that broke up Hun patterns and nullified their strengths. Another mention for Fenian upstart Brophy here for getting away with a Hunnish studding to the achilles of Jack - giving back some love; They didn't like it up 'em.
THE HUNS - 6/10
Eventually lost the midfield war after getting ahead in a few early battles. But they couldn't capitalise on superiority and once Killie's coaching kicked-in properly, Ersefield and Jack looked lost. Match them man-for-man and have more space in there and they crumble.
They have no pattern to their play - it's sporadic and off-the-cuff, their rotation is almost non-existent and straight runs are easily picked off; the flair required to do damage is only provided by Kent or another dropping deep and offering options. Davis is there to keep it rigid (Missus...), he won't offer much guile.
We played only 2 in against their 3. Had we matched them or outnumbered them with creative players as we've done every other game we'd have pummelled them. Again, how the fuck did we lose to that?
FORWARDS:
Killie - 8/10
Well, they made it count. Set-up to counter, they got the big moments spot-on and hardly pressured an unsightly Hun defence that still folded anyway.
THE HUNS - 6/10
Aww... Bless. All so rosy after a quarter hour. Hideous gimps in the stands bouncy-bouncying, sloshing through the fenian blood as Defud did what he's paid ludicrously to do, and the Colombian drug mule cracked a post, Killie looking like going under... Then it all went wrong. Kent - he is one, you know - disappeared into his shell; quite literally, as his father was a slug and his mother a crustacean hooker.
Service dried up some. They threw on their own boaby-flasher, but big classless Kyle isn't the measure of Jamesy
(see what I did there, size queens?) and all he offered was a back-pass whilst performing a Buster Keaton arse-flop.
The real rueful moment came when the lovechild of Pluto from 'The Hills Have Eyes' and an Aztec witch (the Aztecs were a Pre-Columbian Mesoamerican people, historical pedants; put that pointy finger down
) attempted to steal a goal by palming the ball into the Killie net as he faked a diving header. Busted and booked, the grunting wee piggy consoled himself by winning the Kilmarnock Burnsfest Gurning Contest by a clear gruesome mile.
MANAGERS:
Killie - 8/10
Stevie Clarke's stroke of genius came via watching the dire 'Bird Box' on Netflix - sent his players out wearing blindfolds to counter the sheer ugliness that faced them.
Only problem was they couldn't see each other either and played like it for the first quarter. Still, coming up against the Champeeuns Of The Wuruld is never easy for a team living on Defud's lunch money, but once they took a good look at what was in front of them, threw up, and got stuck in, you could sense the momentum shift.
One thing Catholic Steve From The Other Place - as he's known in the witch-ducking village of Kilmarnock - has instilled in his players is formidable mental discipline; they minimise errors and do nothing on the pitch with too much risk attached. They will play a major part in the league outcome. We must negotiate them with caution, pay as much attention to them as a tricky but winnable Euro qualifier. They are the Rosenborg of the SPL.
THE HUNS - EyEyCalmdownCalmDownFucksayyyyke/10
Slippy and Squidward combined to throw away an easy three points in the most satisfying fashion. Chilling Echoes of Tony Mowbray and the first game after the Robbie Keane transfer window when we went to Killie all new guns blazing and flopped to a 0-1.
This Hun team looked like they thought it was over after the quarter hour - the league, that is. Like their choirs of hate, complacency and triumphalism replaced urgency and hope. Now they'll feel the pressure from the Monkeys to play catch-up. They looked a disparate bunch at the end last night, some of that newly-acquired self-belief slipping away like snow off a dyke - incidentally, a suitable metaphor for how fast the Monkeys will desert a lost cause campaign or how fast their cash funds are depleting; like frost off a hot lesbian, indeed....
OVERALL - 10/10
Schadenfreude overload to brighten up the dirge of a month that is January. The perfect re-start for Celtic. The perfect impetus for our players' self-belief, which must have taken a battering since the nightmare 29th. The Huns are as dangerous as a Devil Dug on methamphetamine - BUT, only if you un-muzzle it; Keep the bite caged and you can boot it in the baws a few time at your leisure without fear of injury. We play as we can, they are kept muzzled, the TEN looms large. We slack off, we've seen what happens.
Onwards.
Here is a summary. Be careful what you wish for...
SANDMAN'S DEFINITIVELY UGLY RATINGS - AYRSHIRE HUNS v REINCARNATED LIVING DEID HUNS
"See they Killie burds, man, ah've pumped every wan o' thum, even the trannies, likesay. An' their Maws. But no' the poofs, man. Didny pump the poofs.
Nah, they pumped me. Weird place fur the shaggin', Killie..."
A.McGregor.
"The Rabbie Berns ting - I don't find that confusin' at all; after all, it's written in Scouse, ain't it?"
S.Gerrard
"Who's a fenian bastard needing cheering up now, travelling Army of Darkness? Me, Jonesy, or Slippy G?"
S.Clarke
"Alwoight? That'll be sixty feckin grend a gawl, Dayve mayte. Cash. Sayme toime next week, 'ave it you sleg!"
J.Defoe
"Do not stare into the abyss lest it stares into you. One man can only absorb so much depravity before he too becomes depraved. Don't watch the Huns too much."
Nietzsche
KEEPERS:
Shagger - 5/10
Wears the vacated look of a haunted Morris Minor abandoned on an industrial wasteland. What a spangle sweetie from the 70s would be like if Pixar animated it.
Often a very good - bewilderingly so - goaltender, but had a stuttering moment at the Jones goal where you could lip-read his challenge to Jones as he edged off his line: 'Fuckin...Hit...i... Basturt!"
Caught out by the shot, weak hand to it; should have done better, lol.
Killie Goalminding Beast Bachmann-Turner Overdrive - 8/10
Like Hodor from Game of Thrones in both appearance and heroic value - he too held the door closed against the zombie hordes and revelled in the spotlight.
Felt he needs to express himself more - like when he resisted the urge to rip off Morelos's head after he slapped the ball into the net with his hands; don't hold back next time, son...
DEFENCES:
Killie - 7/10
Terrible start, static, ball-watching, never laid a glove on them. Once they'd ridden their luck, confidence grew and they got tight, made the tackles, stood up to some rank decisions and generally performed as well as the cabin full of kids in the first Evil dead movie - led and marshalled by big Tshibola dropping deep from midfield to form a five-man rearguard; their own Ash, and even completed the metaphor by throwing on one of the former Evil Dead - the notorious Microwave Egg-Bomber of Hun Hell-hole, Drungan, Ayrshire - Kirk Broadfoot.
THE HUNS - LOL/10
I thought they'd banned animal circuses? Not so at Rugby Park as ringmaster (so rumours have it...) Slippy G and his sidekick Squidward McAllister rolled into town with their performing troupe of werewolves and junkie sloths.
Strange human/moulting fur coat hybrid Worrall - only gets a game cos Slippy thinks it's 'the Wirral' - got his hooves tangled up and slapped his knob on the big red PANIC button just as the Huns were cruising, allowing new honorary IRA brigade mascot Eammon Brophy to live the dream of millions and poke it in the net before
jogging along an entire stand of frothing Orcs with hand cupped to his ear.
Kudos to him for not also masturbating, which is usually how my own such dream ends. Happily.
Beautiful reverse-pedal synchronised dance move by their backline when Jones advanced to score the winner. Andy Halliday was playing, so the comedy handicap was in place.
General all-round incompetence still bemuses me with the fact that mob actually beat us last month. Poses two 'How'questions: 1 - Just, How??? 2 - How bad were we???
MIDFIELD:
Killie - 7/10
From non-existent to quick-pressing and dominant when they forced the issue. Interestingly they didn't go at the Huns the way they seem to go at Celtic on the plastic.
They were content to stay disciplined and play neat stuff when they got possession. They reek of good coaching getting the most out of journeymen. Power was their outstanding midfielder - a Broony-type perfromance that broke up Hun patterns and nullified their strengths. Another mention for Fenian upstart Brophy here for getting away with a Hunnish studding to the achilles of Jack - giving back some love; They didn't like it up 'em.
THE HUNS - 6/10
Eventually lost the midfield war after getting ahead in a few early battles. But they couldn't capitalise on superiority and once Killie's coaching kicked-in properly, Ersefield and Jack looked lost. Match them man-for-man and have more space in there and they crumble.
They have no pattern to their play - it's sporadic and off-the-cuff, their rotation is almost non-existent and straight runs are easily picked off; the flair required to do damage is only provided by Kent or another dropping deep and offering options. Davis is there to keep it rigid (Missus...), he won't offer much guile.
We played only 2 in against their 3. Had we matched them or outnumbered them with creative players as we've done every other game we'd have pummelled them. Again, how the fuck did we lose to that?
FORWARDS:
Killie - 8/10
Well, they made it count. Set-up to counter, they got the big moments spot-on and hardly pressured an unsightly Hun defence that still folded anyway.
THE HUNS - 6/10
Aww... Bless. All so rosy after a quarter hour. Hideous gimps in the stands bouncy-bouncying, sloshing through the fenian blood as Defud did what he's paid ludicrously to do, and the Colombian drug mule cracked a post, Killie looking like going under... Then it all went wrong. Kent - he is one, you know - disappeared into his shell; quite literally, as his father was a slug and his mother a crustacean hooker.
Service dried up some. They threw on their own boaby-flasher, but big classless Kyle isn't the measure of Jamesy
(see what I did there, size queens?) and all he offered was a back-pass whilst performing a Buster Keaton arse-flop.
The real rueful moment came when the lovechild of Pluto from 'The Hills Have Eyes' and an Aztec witch (the Aztecs were a Pre-Columbian Mesoamerican people, historical pedants; put that pointy finger down
) attempted to steal a goal by palming the ball into the Killie net as he faked a diving header. Busted and booked, the grunting wee piggy consoled himself by winning the Kilmarnock Burnsfest Gurning Contest by a clear gruesome mile. MANAGERS:
Killie - 8/10
Stevie Clarke's stroke of genius came via watching the dire 'Bird Box' on Netflix - sent his players out wearing blindfolds to counter the sheer ugliness that faced them.
Only problem was they couldn't see each other either and played like it for the first quarter. Still, coming up against the Champeeuns Of The Wuruld is never easy for a team living on Defud's lunch money, but once they took a good look at what was in front of them, threw up, and got stuck in, you could sense the momentum shift.
One thing Catholic Steve From The Other Place - as he's known in the witch-ducking village of Kilmarnock - has instilled in his players is formidable mental discipline; they minimise errors and do nothing on the pitch with too much risk attached. They will play a major part in the league outcome. We must negotiate them with caution, pay as much attention to them as a tricky but winnable Euro qualifier. They are the Rosenborg of the SPL.
THE HUNS - EyEyCalmdownCalmDownFucksayyyyke/10
Slippy and Squidward combined to throw away an easy three points in the most satisfying fashion. Chilling Echoes of Tony Mowbray and the first game after the Robbie Keane transfer window when we went to Killie all new guns blazing and flopped to a 0-1.
This Hun team looked like they thought it was over after the quarter hour - the league, that is. Like their choirs of hate, complacency and triumphalism replaced urgency and hope. Now they'll feel the pressure from the Monkeys to play catch-up. They looked a disparate bunch at the end last night, some of that newly-acquired self-belief slipping away like snow off a dyke - incidentally, a suitable metaphor for how fast the Monkeys will desert a lost cause campaign or how fast their cash funds are depleting; like frost off a hot lesbian, indeed....
OVERALL - 10/10
Schadenfreude overload to brighten up the dirge of a month that is January. The perfect re-start for Celtic. The perfect impetus for our players' self-belief, which must have taken a battering since the nightmare 29th. The Huns are as dangerous as a Devil Dug on methamphetamine - BUT, only if you un-muzzle it; Keep the bite caged and you can boot it in the baws a few time at your leisure without fear of injury. We play as we can, they are kept muzzled, the TEN looms large. We slack off, we've seen what happens.
Onwards.
