One of our periodic semi-final appearances came and went with the, by now, traditional 'Raping of the Anuses.' The Cliffnotes version goes like this.
Both teams came onto the park and, despite competing as well as third rate monkey people can compete, it was fairly obvious that there was a sinister atmosphere as there always is when it comes to games against Celtic. The referee was, as usual, the ringleader in this brutal, pointless assault, and it was equally obvious that he was just waiting for any excuse to begin with the rapings and the buggery.
18 minutes in and the referee literally, and I do mean literally, literally rips the shorts off little Andy Considine, and with absolutely no provocation whatsoever starts fucking the Dons defender right up the arse. With a flourish of a red card, for little more than standing in the same general vicinity as a Celtic player... the aptly named 'Hooper' (Because he's a fucking hoop), the referee smacks wee Andy on the back of the head and proceeds with the unprovoked buggerings.
Women were screaming, children were crying, grown men were calling out for someone, anyone, to step in and stop the whole brutal, frenzied attack. But it just went on and on and on for the remaining seventy-odd minutes.
We knew it was coming, god help us we knew it was coming. It always happens that in a semi-final, regardless of the opposition, our boys are going to suffer through 90 minutes of humiliation and sexual assault, leaving the boys in red bloodied and sobbing. It doesn't even matter the opposition. A team comprising of nothing but Smurfs, My Little Ponies and magical Unicorns would end up pinning our players to the ground, ripping their shorts off and fucking them over and over and over again with their little blue Smurf cocks, and their sparkly My Little Pony cocks, and their wondrous, fantastical Unicorn horns.... and cocks.
At some point during this mass, officially sanctioned, gay gang raping of our innocent little boys, Celtic were able to find the time to score the traditional four goals against us, just to rub salt into the wounds. The bloody, gaping, savaged anal wounds.
Craig Brown came out and did the usual that successive Aberdeen managers have done for the last 16 years. He donned the ceremonial stiff upper lip and praised the ineptitude and subservience with which his Aberdeen team had accepted the arse fuckings.
"I thought the lads did very well," said Craig, probably. "I was particularly pleased with the way we once more capitulated in a cup semi-final, just exactly like the bunch of frightened, 16 year old bitches we are."
Craig went on to say, "Actually, I'm happy about everything. Honestly. Try getting me to say something's shite or just plain fucking unfair... Go ahead try. Ask me about Hitler. Hitler? Well I think he was a lovely man. Referees? Tremendous examples of the human spirit, particularly when they're sending our players off for no reason whatsoever. Nuclear war? I think nuclear war is a wonderful, wonderful thing, and I won't say a bad thing about it."
He went on to tell the BBC Scotland reporter that he was 70 years old, you know, and that he still has all his own teeth. and everyone clapped in a thoroughly patronising manner.
Next up for Aberdeen, a bit of a relegation battle.
So that's nice.
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