It's official. There are just 25 hours to go until the transfer window closes.
That's just 25 hours to find out which 6'' striker will give it all up for Swansea, the Sarajevo of the West.
I can hardly wait.
BREAKING NEWS
Doncaster are closing in on Celtic forward Chris Killen, according to Sky.
Another nonsense football hack phrase.
It's not like you can 'close in' on things in many other walks of life. Can you 'close in' on a bag of chips? Or a pretty blonde? No, you'd murder the first and nail the second.
As if the whole of Doncaster Rovers FC are engaged in some kind of highly elaborate pincer formation with poor Chris Killen the prey at its centre; Neil Sullivan and Graham Stock carefully exchanging coded arm gestures while Sean O'Driscoll is nose to the turf sniffing out Killen's scent.
They're not closing in. They're thinking of taking a kak striker on loan because he can't get in the Celtic team.
24 hours and 39 minutes to go. Who's going to sign Tal Ben Haim this time?
24 hours 40 minutes. Any second rate Premier League teams going to bid for Joe Ledley?
OK, how about a third rate Premier League team?
Not even Hull then?
BREAKING NEWS
I've got to go and make calls on my TEN mobile phones so I don't miss anything.
The big news of the day is not that Eduardo was charged for diving. Nor that Arsene Wenger cried about it.
It's not that Boro's Jacko-haired Turkish striker Tuncay signed for Stoke.
It's not that Lee Trundle re-signed for Swansea.
Seriously.
Paul Sousa, who's all Europeans and that and wears ill-fitting suits that just have to be described as "sharp" on account of his olive skin and fulsome hair, nevermind that he might just be the Portugese equivalent of Dai Hunt when it comes to couture. Paulo Sousa, who's only Swansea manager because Paulo Sousa sounds more Spanish than Aidy Boothroyd. Paulo Sousa, who should have retired when life was good after The Usual Suspects. Paulo Sousa... actually thinks that chunky lump of Trund is in the missing link in Swansea's beautiful tippy-tappy football aesthetic. That's like saying Jordan is the missing link in the mystery of who was Jesus' real mother.
Anyway, the big news of the day is not even that Joe Ledley is thinking about maybe perhaps signings a new contracts at Cardiff.
Because Darcy Blake is going to Plymouth.
No, Darcy. It's not a "trip".
You're actually going.
And frankly, I'm not disappointed.
For a long time the best thing about Darcy Blake has been, well, his name.
And even then, fans don't bother to whoop and geer it in anything like the same way Giles Barnes arouses period drama inspired excitement up and down the country.
Because Giles Barnes looks like he might just be able to pull off the aristocratic cravat-wearing thing.
Whereas Darcy looks like he should be jostling for position at the bar in the Ninian Stand at half time with the other potato-faced muckers. Which is where he'll most likely end up unless this loan thing to Plymouth actually works outs.
It's not that Boro's Jacko-haired Turkish striker Tuncay signed for Stoke.
It's not that Lee Trundle re-signed for Swansea.
Seriously.
Paul Sousa, who's all Europeans and that and wears ill-fitting suits that just have to be described as "sharp" on account of his olive skin and fulsome hair, nevermind that he might just be the Portugese equivalent of Dai Hunt when it comes to couture. Paulo Sousa, who's only Swansea manager because Paulo Sousa sounds more Spanish than Aidy Boothroyd. Paulo Sousa, who should have retired when life was good after The Usual Suspects. Paulo Sousa... actually thinks that chunky lump of Trund is in the missing link in Swansea's beautiful tippy-tappy football aesthetic. That's like saying Jordan is the missing link in the mystery of who was Jesus' real mother.
Anyway, the big news of the day is not even that Joe Ledley is thinking about maybe perhaps signings a new contracts at Cardiff.
Because Darcy Blake is going to Plymouth.
No, Darcy. It's not a "trip".
You're actually going.
And frankly, I'm not disappointed.
For a long time the best thing about Darcy Blake has been, well, his name.
And even then, fans don't bother to whoop and geer it in anything like the same way Giles Barnes arouses period drama inspired excitement up and down the country.
Because Giles Barnes looks like he might just be able to pull off the aristocratic cravat-wearing thing.
Whereas Darcy looks like he should be jostling for position at the bar in the Ninian Stand at half time with the other potato-faced muckers. Which is where he'll most likely end up unless this loan thing to Plymouth actually works outs.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)