We done got ussels a draaaaw!

HAMILTON 1- 1 ABERDEEN

Well, a ringydingdang, and a pingpangpoke!

Our special little boys done gone and got themselves one of them thar draaaaws!

In a game where the boys in red had a chance to beat the supposedly worst team in the league, and guarantee SPL football for another whole season, whoodeefuckingdoo, we conspired to go a goal behind and injure our own goalkeeper in a few seconds of football SO inept that I swear the ghosts of the Keystone Cops were taking notes on how fucking up in spectacular fashion should be done properly.

Now, I know I said 'we' conspired.... but in reality this was all about Zander Diamond, baby.

And here's how he did it.

Finding himself with the football, and with enough time to write a hundred page thesis on 'Shit Defenders Shouldn't Do, Because If They Did They Should Be Fucking Shot' Mr Diamond, allegedly a defender... fuck it.. allegedly a footballer... did exactly what would have been written on page 1 of aforementioned hypothetical thesis.

With all the time in the world, ZD passes the ball straight to Dougie Imrie.  Nothing unusual about that, you might think... well, you'd be wrong.  Doogie Imrie, you see, is a Hamilton striker.  And Zander Diamond is an Aberdeen defender.....  are you spotting the thing what Zander did wrong?

That's right.. what Zander did wrong was turn up for fucking work that morning.

Anyway, not happy with simply gifting the ball to Dooooogie Imrie, Zander decides that what will REALLY put the icing on the cake is to smack some cunt in a really vicious manner.  So, desperate to make up for the error of 2 seconds earlier, Zander launches himself at a certain Jamie 'Jamie Langfield' Langfield.  And to be fair to Zander he caught the fucker a beautiful knee right in the face.  You could hear the crack on King Street.

Now the only real problem with this is that Jamie 'Jamie Langfield' Langfield is the Aberdeen keeper.  And Zander Diamond is...?

That's right, an Aberdeen defender.

So while Imrie and his fellow Hamiltonians wheel away in celebration, we're left a goal down, with a badly injured goalkeeper, and Zander Diamond unhurt.  A triple whammy of bad news.

Still, Derek Young was still on the park, and unhurt so... oh.. a quaduple whammy.

Immediately the crowd start chanting Zander's name in a bid to boost his confidence.

"Diamond! Get ye tae FUCK!"  the crowd screams.

Craig Brown, bless the 70 year old man, clutches at his chest and looks as though he's simultaneously having a heart attack, shitting a hedgehog, giving birth to octuplets and remembering that one time he came face to face with a zombie grizzly bear in a broken lift. None of those things appear to have pleased him much. He sinks his heid into his hands and sobs uncontrollably.

The team rallies, though, and they immediately try to string two passes together.  It didn't come off of course... Christ, not even close.... but you could tell they were trying.

Actually, that last bit is a lie.  Despite going a goal down to their fellow relegation candidates, this magnificent Aberdeen team increased their work rate not one fucking iota.  In fact they noticeably slowed down.  Terrified of the ball, and even more terrified of the consequences of doing something with it, the Aberdeen players immediately began trying to run as far away from the ball as they possibly could.  Waves of Hamilton attacks now commenced, thwarted only by the fact that Hamilton... and let's be completely fair to them... are absolute fucking shite.   That they scored even one, gifted to them though it was, is something miraculous on a par with the resurrection of Jesus Christ as a tap dancing armadillo.

Ordinarily a team as bad as Hamilton would sit back and defend this precious one goal lead, but Hamilton were aware that this was Aberdeen they were playing, not a proper football team. Jerel Ifil may have gone, but Zander Diamond remains.... and let's be frank, a team of blind quadriplegics would fancy their chances against a side with Zander Diamond in it.

Watching Hamilton batter ineptly at an Aberdeen side so bad that only a team as bad as Hamilton could fail to find the net a second time... it was a lot like watching a really stupid dog trying to find a way past a hedgehog's spikes so it can bite the fucker. The antagonist doesn't know what the fuck it's doing, and the 'victim' is too scared to do anything other than curl up into a ball and hope for the best.

In a last desperate gamble, Brown threw on a striker. A black man with the VERY unimaginative name of Blackman....

...mind you it would be fucking funny if EVERY Aberdeen player was named after their most obvious trait.

The black man would be Blackman, Derek Young Would be Derek Yung... oh... and Zander Diamond would be Alexander Shite.

Anyway, within one femtosecond of being on the park Blackman has the ball in the net, has almost set up another, hits the woodwork, delivered three babies in the Merkland Road Stand and single-handedly saved the match and Aberdeen's SPL status.

Immediately after the game Brown congratulated Blackman by telling him to fuck off back to England.

I bet you think I'm joking.

But I'm not.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/scot_prem/9464479.stm

The SPL. It's the fucking BOMB!

So two pieces of news from last week, one pretty straightforward, the other simply unbelievable, disgusting, insane and fucked up.

First, Neil Lennon, manager of Celtic, was sent a fucking LETTER BOMB by unknown agencies, otherwise known as Rangers supporters. A fucking LETTER BOMB. Designed to KILL the fat, ginger fucker, obviously. Now, yes, he's a despicable piece of shit, and yes his very existence hinders most right-minded people's breathing, but a fucking LETTER BOMB?

And now for the fucking unbelievable piece of news.

Darren Mackie, possibly the worst attacker to have played long-term for Aberdeen, is up for a testimonial.

10 years, and still only in double figures as far as goals are concerned.  Not even close to notching a hundred goals. In fact, going by the stats, he'll have to be here for another decade before he sclaffs in number 100.  And by that time he'll be getting ANOTHER fucking testimonial.

Now in all honesty it's hard to begrudge 'The Lioncub'* his testimonial.  He's always given the impossible, though oft-touted, 110%.  People seem to forget that 110% shite actually equates to 10% more shite than if he was only trying 100%.  Logically it would be better for everyone if he only tried, say, 50% of the time, because then he'd only be half as shite.

I think that's how it works.

Anyway, letter bomb to Lennon?

Yawn... tell me something I WOULDN'T expect the Old Firm scum to do.  Like NOT send a fucking letter bomb.  Now THAT would be a fucking surprise.

But a testimonial for Mackie?

Jesus, the world has gone mad.


*Without a shadow of a doubt the gayest nickname for any player, ever.

Kick, kick, kick, kick, punch, punch, kick, kick, punch, punch, kick, punchpunchpunch!

CELTIC 4 - 0 ABERDEEN

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.

Match report: http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/scot_cups/9454893.stm

We Came.. we saw... we lost.

ABERDEEN 0 - 1 RANGERS

A reasonable effort from the goons in red against the west coast, rat-fucking scum... Rangers to the uninitiated... ended in a few half chances and another beating.  We get beat more often than a red-headed step-child, but defeats to the forces of darkness always rankle.

If you're unfamiliar with Scottish football then some kind of an explanation of what Rangers is would seem to be in order.  Probably the best way to describe them is this.

Picture Adolph Hitler.  Close your eyes, and just imagine Adolph Hitler.  Got him?  Okay, now imagine that Hitler is a sectarian, hatemongering pedophile and  rapist, as well as an anti-semitic mass murderer with all the morals of a rabid weasel in a box of chickens.

Are you imagining that?

Good.

Now, try to imagine something about a million times worse than a kiddy fiddling, jew-murdering rapist NAZI. And try, if you can, to imagine the stench of stale piss, shit, beer and cigarettes.  Now put those images together.

Now put a blue and white scarf around the neck of whatever you're imagining.

And now have it say, "We arra peepul, byraway bigman, but!"

Okay, we now have a working model of how a Rangers supporter looks, smells, and sound.

If the Devil were real, rather than the fictional evil counterpoint to the fictional sky-daddy in the clouds, then it's safe to say that even Satan himself would cross the street.. fuck it, he'd cross a thousand lane motorway, just to avoid coming into contact with a Rangers supporter if he could.

So, anyway, a single goal was enough to see off the challenge of the Special Kids in Red at Pittodrie.  Though only about 11,000 people bothered turning up to watch the ritual slaughter, despite it being one of the biggest matches of the year.

A lot of factors contributed to the small attendance.  Nothing to play for, no-one wants to watch Aberdeen, no chance of a top six place, no-one wants to watch Aberdeen, a lot of injuries to the squad, no-one wants to watch Aberdeen, a low key build up, and of course no-one wants to watch Aberdeen.

Watching Aberdeen try to play football is a lot like watching a blind puppy try to negotiate an untidy room. You're rooting for the little fella, but the best it can do is fall over its own feet and shit itself in desperation.

We are that blind little puppy covered in shit.

We still smell better than the Huns though.

Match Report: http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/scot_prem/9454874.stm

Another Day Another Kick To The Balls

ABERDEEN 0 - 1 HIBERNIAN

Super Duper, another defeat.  This time at the hands of Hibernian FC, the team from Edinburgh that has made a habit... nay, a TRADITION... of being absolutely shite.  Sure, the media will have you believe that Hibs is the reincarnation of the Milan team of the 80s, but the truth is that they haven't been a force in Scottish football since the days of Georgie Best, when they won... absolutely fuck all.  True, they've won 3 league cups since 1972, but seriously?  The League Cup?  You can buy a box of 6 League Cups for ten quid from ASDA Portlethen. I've got one I use for Smarties sitting on the kitchen table.

Anyway, Craig Brown, Grand Master of Footballing Wizardry (Tactics Division), and current manager of AFC decided that today he was going to try something different. So confident of a win was our new manager that he decided he would be a good sport and play our wingers on the wrong sides.  Aluko, you tricky left winger you, you go stand on the RIGHT hand side of the pitch.... no, the RIGHT. Yep, that's it. And Little Petey Pawlett, I'd like YOU to go stand over on the LEFT hand side of the pitch.

What's that, lads?  You're going to be forced to check inside every time you want to put in a cross, meaning the flow of any attack on the wing is going to be broken up?  Well, fuck you very much... who has the coaching badges?

Magennis, you used to be a goalie, right?  Well I want you to play up front.  Fucking top banana.  This'll level the playing field sure enough. 

So anyway, we lost.  A goal to nil to Hibs at home.  We did hit the woodwork though.  Three times, in fact.  If there were awards for NOT putting the ball in the net we'd be 3 points better off.  Unfortunately those aren't the rules, so big fucking whoop for hitting the post and bar instead of the net. 

I'm sure Craig won't be happy about that, but then I'm not very fucking happy that he doesn't know his left from his right, so stick them apples in yer pipe and smoke em. 

Anyway, the team continues to show why only St. Mirren and Hamilton are lower in the scheme of SPL things this season. Although I do quite fancy St. Mirren to pass us in the next week or two, leaving us the luxury of looking down at Hamilton Academicals and going, "Hey, you lads are pish, eh?"

It's always nice to have someone to shit on, even if it's only Accies. The number of sides we can ridicule and taunt in a semi-vicious manner becomes smaller by the year.  Without investment there's going to be a whole league of teams above us looking down and going, "Hey, how's the weather in the First Division, Spunkbandits?"

And we'll be like.... ".... Shit."

http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/scot_prem/9450585.stm

We're Fucking Terrible

ST. MIRREN 3 - 2 ABERDEEN

Another game, another defeat.  This is starting to get pretty fucking depressing, especially when you consider that the latest team of no-hopers to rape us, in a footballing sense, happens to be St. Mirren.  If football teams were animals St. Mirren would be a three legged fucking donkey.  And they beat us. At a canter. Because we're fucking terrible.

Still, at least we might not get relegated. Unless something unforeseen were to happen, such as, say, and for example, the bastards decide to decrease the league to 10 teams, relegating us, St. Mirren and Hamilton Academicals.

On the plus side, the manager seems to be a fairly cheery kinda cunt.  Unless you piss him off, in which case he'll turn into a Tasmanian fucking Devil and chase you around the pitch like a sort of septuagenarian whirlwind, gnashing his teeth and trying to take a bite out of your arse.  Moral of the story, not that I told you a story, is that you fuck with Craig Brown at your own peril.

I wouldn't mind if these defeats were just bad luck, or if every decision was going against us. Unfortunately the truth of the matter is that we've assembled a team so fucking awful that the human brain simply isn't capable of processing just how utterly fucking terrible they are.   If just your basic, standard, run-of-the-mill fucking terrible was, say, the size of a peanut, then the team that has been brought together from the four corners of the British Isles (and sometimes beyond) to comprise the current Aberdeen squad is so fucking terrible that it would be a fucking terrible about a hundred and fifty thousand times larger than the pile of gold Stewart Milne has stashed in his Fort Knoxian fucking basement beneath his 23 bedroom mansion at an undisclosed, secret, Aberdeenshire location.

Don't ask how I came to that figure, because it was the culmination of several nights of intense scrutiny, fueled by wild speculation, randomly assumed notions, and large amounts of imported beer. Just know that the accuracy of that figure cannot be debated.  Largely because I refuse to enter into a debate about it.

So where do we go from here?

I'd like to say onwards and upwards, but I'd be lying like a motherfucker if I did.

Onwards and upwards it is, then.

http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport2/hi/football/scot_prem/9446460.stm