Game 6: ICT vs Aberdeen

Aberdeen visit the Heilan Chiels for the sixth league game of the season, and with the Dandy Dons sitting in a quite astonishing third place in the league here's a chance to consolidate our position up there in unfamiliar territory.

Known for being a great big bunch of hammer-throwing shitbags, Inverness will be looking to kick the Dons off the park at every opportunity, you can bet your tits on that. However we will be dazzling them with our close control, our tight passing, and our fantastical darting runs from defence.

While the Dons go with a fairly adventurous 4-5-1, the teuchters are going with their favoured Buttplug Formation.  The fuck is up with that?

There appears to be a fairly raucous Casual element in the ground today, so let's hope they can behave themselves and not get up to any sort of shameful sheninniganry. We'll be keeping an eye on them. And if they DO get up to their hi-jinx then a certain Jamie 'The Grass' Langfield will be on the blower to the Rozzers right quick and no mistake, Guv.

Anyway, time to get this show on the road, as they say in showbusiness circles.  Unless it's Jimmy Savile, in which case they say, 'Let's grope this underage lassie's tits and that, jingle jangle."

The only molesting going on today will be some lucky sheep, though... two sets of sheepshagging bastards in one tiny stadium makes for a lot of potential sheep-worrying. Still, if they didn't want it they wouldn't be standing there taking it.  And anyway, who's to say that sticking your dick in a sheep is necessarily a bad thing?  Not that I'm sticking up for people who bang farm animals... I'm just saying if that's what two consenting adults of admittedly different species want to share a few moments...  Oh, right, the fitba....

With the Dons in third and the Highland Huns only one point behind in fifth there's everything to play for. If, by 'everything' we mean '3 points'. Which obviously we do.

Okay, enough of this fucking jibba jabba, as Mr T used to say on the A-Team. I pity the fucking foo, he used to say that too.... enough of this fucking jibba jabba, let's get fucking started and I ain't gettin' on no fuckin' plane piloted by no crazy fuckin' foo.

And we're off...

Inverness come out of the traps swinging like a mentally deranged retarded kid on too many Sugarpops™, flying at the Aberdeen defence from the off. It's a storm of epic proportions, and the shitkickers from North of Everywhere threaten to blow the Dons away in the opening few minutes under a literal hurricane of attacking soccer.

Desperate goal-line defending is all that prevents the 'Nesians from taking the lead, and it isn't until the 23rd minute before the deadlock is broken.

A scramble in the packed Dons box for the umpteen and eleventh time sees the ball worked out to the right hand side of the box a quick pass inside to former Heart of Molestors XI star, Rudi Skacel, and the ball is in the net.  It's a great goal, it has been coming and the dons are 1 - 0 down but not really.

The referee has seen some kind of imaginary infringement, and the goal is chalked off.  Aberdeen survives for a few more minutes at least.

3 minutes from the break and it looks like the Reds might have weathered the shitstorm, but for some unfathomable reason, following an ICT corner, the referee decides to award the Caledonians a penalty just because.  The Dons fans are enraged at this act of random penalty-awarding, and Daytripping and his mates, as suspected, throw some smoke bombs onto the pitch in a bid to interefere with proceedings.

This is shameful... a lascivious display of hot-headed, not to mention criminal, behaviour of the sort that will see you arrested in any civilised country. Settle the fuck down, eh?

Foran steps up, and the Oirish lad who Aberdeen once deemed as having too much personality to sign for us slots the ball calmly into the Aberdeen net.

1-0 the Fermers, and it's an entirely deserved lead.

Half Time: Inverness 1- 0 Aberdeen

After a serious half time bollocking, the Dons come out firing on all cylinders.  The cautious, backs to the wall pish of the first 45 minutes are dispensed with, and a more cavalier 'Everyone Forward' approach is deemed the best way to get back into this game.

Immediately from kick off the Dons win themselves a free kick 25 yards out, and ugliest team member, and former ICT Potato Person, Little Johnny Hayes steps up with the curler... straight into the back of the Caley net and we're all square. Suck that goal-cock!

This sets the Dons up nicely, and led by Hayes the impetus shifts from the Sons of Butcher to the rampant Dandies, and within minutes the Dons are 2-1 up following a Shaughnessy bullet header from a quickly taken corner. Surely this is too much goal-cock for even Terry Butcher to swallow.

FUN FACT: Famous for his Head-Periods, Terry Butcher is a former England International, though most famous for kicking a door at Pittodrie like a petulant little bitch after his team took a good old-fashioned raping at the hands of the greatest team the world has ever seen.  

Lazy play sees Low, for the mumblemumbleth game in a row, losing the ball in midfield, and the Rabber Bampers fly up the park, desperate to get back on level terms before their boss starts kicking them inna.

Some fine interplay, what used to be known as good passing, has the Invernesians taking a static Aberdeen defence to pieces, with Sutherland firing the ball into the net with only 15 minutes left to play.  The Highland fans go mental, emulating the bouncy-bouncy that the fans of more sophisticated clubs used to like doing about 25 years ago.  Invernesians, if nothing else, are on the very cutting edge of trendiness.  They'll be getting step-cuts and Paisley Pattern dungarees next.

Their mongoly celebrations are, however, cut short by this god of a referee. The goal is chalked off and Inverness are furious.  Screaming at the referee in whatever fucking language they speak up in Inverness, Gaelic or Greek or Gibberish... whatever... doesn't help their cause.  Fuck any team that paid Ross Tokely to be a footballer, that's my opinion.

With the match winding down, Mad Niall MCGinn O'Messi bears down on goal, but only a brave, brave save by the Invernessy goalkeeper prevents Aberdeens 2 goal-cocks becoming a great, bloated 3 goal-cock scoreline.  Take that in the face, Terry.  Take it all.

Final Score...

Inverness 1 -2 Aberdeen.

That puts the Dons in second.  Fuck me with a big fat dildo... it'll never last.  Enjoy it while you can.

http://youtu.be/pdlZLU_d9Lg

Att: 4958

Game 5: Aberdeen vs St Mirren

This match report shall be performed in the style of an American sports commentator.

I'll be your host, Chip Budweiser, brought to you by BLAMMO! America's Favorite High Sugar Diet Beverage! Get back down to 500lbs with BLAMMO!*

It's game five of the Scottish Premier League of Footballing Soccer, and The Dandy Dons of Aberdeen are taking on the popular St Mirren of Paisley, nicknamed the Buddies. Gee, that's a swell nickname.

Aberdeen Soccer Club are energized by a recent 5 scores to 2 victory in the League Cup of Scottish World Soccer, Offensive Goal Attacker Scooter Vernon converting four of those scores and earning MVP accolades.

(I watch a lot of MLS and SL, and believe me this is what it's like)

The Dons sit in their traditional 9th place spot in the Scotch League, but a win today will see them climb the table, while a loss won't. That's how this crazy league works, with 3 points for a win, no points for the loss, and a point awarded for teams who are tied after regular time. No overtime will be played in the event of a tie, which is a goofy way to run any sport.

With the Aberdeen Dons playing a traditional, some say archaic, 4-4-2 formation, St Mirrens of Paisley start with a more adventurous and modern 4-3-3 with Goncalves playing the role of forward offense.  For Aberdeen, Bodde teams up in midfield with the ageing Gavin Rae.   Jaime the Clangers Langfield is dropped for being, quote, "Pash". Hopefully the goaltender can recover from that quickly.

The early exchanges in the match sees the Buddies midfield trio taking control of proceedings, but a good piece of play between Suazo, Vernon and Milsom sees the St Mirren goalwatcher forced into a diving save. The resulting corner goes nowhere, and the next ten minutes involves the Dons players watching St Mirren pass the soccer ball around like Juventus, Italy.

K, done with the Americanisms....

Aberdeen continue to chase shadows, despite having been told to hassle their opponents and give them no room to play. In my day that would have literally meant, snap them fuckers ankles.  Players today, however, are frosted-tipped fuds, with all the combative qualities of Bambi, if Bambi had been a bigger faggot than he already was. So standing off and not tackling is the order of the day.

33 minutes gone, St Mirren rattle the post after some unrealistically sweet play. The Dons defence is posted missing, the keeper is beaten, but the ball whacks off the woodwork and back into play.  There's a goal coming, you can feel it in your water.

...and on 41 minutes gone, following a period of sheer one-way traffic, the ball is worked into the box to Goncalves, who makes no mistakes with the finish. A deserved lead for the team that prior to this game could have been considered relegation favourites.

0-1 to the Murrn,  and this shit needs sorted out in half two as the first half winds down... even a Craig Brown team would be doing better than this but it wouldn't really.

After much re-tacticsing at half time the Dons team comes out all fired up and shit, and proceeds to still be played off the park by a St Mirren team that looks like it's playing a combination of La Liga and Harlem Globetrotters exhibition shit.

Despite the St Mirren onslaught, the 67th minute sees Niall McGinn clip a ball to the advancing Giraffe-necked Dutchman who curls a typically continental shot into the back of the net. It's 1-1, which is fairly unbelievable given the one-sided nature of this game, but we'll take what we can against the west coast Juventusians.

Bodde appears to have picked up a knock, he was always an injury risk, so we'll see how that turns out.  Hopefully nothing the giraffe vet can't fix with a plaster.

St Mirren immediately switch to a 4-4-2 formation, obviously seeing how awesome the Dons are with their 4-4-2, and hoping to emulate our towering defensive godliness in a bid to lose no more goals.

74 minutes gone, and a 60 yard upfield punt finds the head of Vernon, who aimlessly heads the ball into the air in the general direction of the St Mirren box.  Incredibly the St Mirren keeper stands perfectly still and does nothing to prevent the ball trundling slowly over his line.  Vernon clearly didn't mean it, but he celebrates like he's scored the winning goal in a World Cup final, rather than an unintentional header.

It's now 2-1 to the Dandy Dons and League Title here we come!

The remaining 16 minutes sees Aberdeen comfortably pinned back onto their goal-line, frantically clearing an avalanche of St Mirren attacks into the stands. No more goals, St Mirren blow it, and the Dons rocket up the table to... I don't know because Steam just returned a fatal error and crashed the game.

Fortunately I saved it first... but hopefully there's not some fucking fucked up shenanigans going on here.

I think I need to reboot here... Steam's going fucking mental.

EDIT: Okay, 3rd.  We're up to third, but can't connect with steam network, and I cant take any screenshots.

Game seems to be running fine, but I'll have to see what's going on here.

Anyway, 3rd... YAY!  YAY! etc.

League Cup R2: Aberdeen vs Stranraer

Aberdeen vs Stranraer

With the Dons proudly occupying their traditional 9th spot in the SPL, cup fever hits the city of Aberdeen like an epidemic of contagious Bad AIDS.  No-one really fucking cares.  And given the club's usual inability to promote itself, there's probably only a couple thousand hardy souls who even know there's a game on today.

Anyway, let's struggle on through this pointless fucking cup competition, even if it's only for teh lulz.

Today we take on the might of Stranraer, a team that plays its football in, fuck, I don't know... the fourth division or something. Suffice to say they're pish and we should beat them.  We do make a habit of self-fucking when it comes to "teams we should beat in the cup" however, so let's take nothing for granted, otherwise this is the kind of shit we can fully expect from our day.

Depressing but commonplace. Fuck our club.

Langfield is dropped, given we've signed a real goalkeeper (fingers crossed) and Ramovic goes straight into the squad as all my signings do. Langfield is on the bench, and if all goes well the gipit prick has played his last game for THIS fucking club, and no mistake.

Straight to it then?

With a little over 5000 die-hard Dandies in the ground, but not the URDS, because we don;t have enough fans to fill that particular white elephant, we're off.

The first real action of the match sees Nial McGinn, the Emerald Wizard, slot a delicious, gravy-soaked through ball to Scott 'No Goals' Vernon. Vernon swivels on the edge of the box and blasts the ball high and wide.

...wait... fuck me, no he doesn't. He swivels and powers a magnificent bastard of a goal past the flailing arms of the Stranraer keeper, whatever his name is.  1-0 to the Dons and only 6 minutes on the clock.

Two and a half minutes later, and Reynolds knocks another through ball to the feet of Vernon, who holds off the challenge of a 'defender' and rifles his second of the game into the net. Haha... get in there. Look at us scoring goals and playing fitba like a proper team.

17 minutes in and a stramash in the box turns into kerfuffle, rapidly descending into a clattering, and it's a penalty for the Dons.  Who else but Scott 'The Manager Had Complete Faith In Me From The Off' Vernon steps up, hammers it to the right, and it's a hat-trick inside of 20 minutes for the man who looks like Beaker aff the Muppets.

Hat-Trick Hero! Beeweeweeweeweewee!

You'll probably remember me saying earlier how Verno was going to be our main striker this season. Big Vern.  The Vermeister.Vernorino. He'll be responding to the faith I've shown in him, is what this is.

Minutes later and Ramovic flaps at a loose ball, he recovers to get back to his goal just in time to not save Moore's box from 3 yards out.  Fuckers have pulled one back, and is a collapse on?  I wouldn't bet against it with this particular team of spineless whores.

3-1 The Dons.

Within 3 minutes the Dons recover their 3 goal lead... a Naysmith cross finds McGinn's napper, he heads it back across goal, and Vernon is there to bang in his fourth.  Well, fuck me sideways, someone found their shooting boots. Good on you, you muppet-looking fuck. 4-1 Aberdeen, 4 goals for Vernon, the next round beckons.

With time running down in the first half, giant-mouthed Considine puts the tie beyond any doubt with a short, stabby shot at the near post from a McGinn cross. 5-1 and this tie is over.

As is usually the case, however, losing a few goals usually has the AI playing like Barcelona, regardless of what team they are, and true to form the second half sees Stranraer play like Stranraercelona.  The only real moment of interest being a second goal for the Scottish Catalans from some lad called Borris.

We won't be Russian to sign him, though... hahahahahaha... ah, I crack me up, me.

Anyway, 5-2 the Dons, we're through to the next round, and here's the highlights with Pibull.

Game 4: Aberdeen vs Hearts

Game 4: Aberdeen vs Hearts of Ukios Bankaruptcy

Flats, flats, glorious flats!

With the exciting news of Hearts' impending doom filling the back pages of newspapers around the country, they travel to Pittodrie for game 3 of the season.  Presumably they'll be hitching a lift north from Auld Reekie, because Ukio Bankas owns their team bus as well as their stadium.

Our new midfielder will be playing his first game for us, some dude by the name of Ferrie Bodde. Aberdeen fans will remember him for not being worth signing, even though he was later the subject of a 2 million pound approach (which was rejected, it should be noted).  Anyway, better late than never, and the Dutchman with the long range shot has signed up for the Dons at the second time of asking. He goes into our midfield, and if I haven't mentioned it already I've punted Stephen Hughes because he's... well.. because he's Stephen Hughes.

The thing I like most about Ferrie Bodde is his tiny head and his weird neck.  He'll fit in perfectly with his Aberdeen teammates, who look like the cast of Babylon 5.

Tiny head, fat neck. Hello, I am being Ferrie Bodde. Schmoke and a Pancake?

Like Suazo, he's about as fit as can be expected for someone who hasn't been playing lately.  Obviously Bodde's a major injury risk, but I'm prepared to accept that any freebie is going to have a major flaw.  So long as he doesn't have a basement full of dead hookers, I think we can chance his signing.

With Suazo once again partnering the shirt-filling Vernon up front, let's hope we can put these fuckers firmly in their place. 

Game 4 is under way, and from the start it's... let's put it this way, the first thirty minutes can be summed up thusly.

Head tennis, head tennins, misplaced pass, cross to no-one, punt upfield, head tennis, head tennis, tiny head, tiny head, misplaced pass.

It isn't till the 30th minute that a glorious 40 yard diagonal pass by the gorgeous figure of Cillian Murphy finds Nicky Low Choo-choo-training into the box like the little engine who could. Without breaking stride, Low smashes a left foot volley clean into the fucking net. Haud 'at, ye fuckin Jambo cunts!

...but what's this?

The bastard in the black is pulling play back. The goal has been chalked off, and we're denied a glorious goal of the season contender, simply because this twat of a referee can't see past his own fucking nose.

There's literally nothing else to mention this half.  Watching this virtual Aberdeen team is a bit like watching the real Aberdeen team, inasmuch as I sit at my computer with a bored expression on my face, periodically going, "Jesus."  and "Fuck me" and "This is pish."  So I do take my hat off when it comes to the authenticity of the matchplay.

Half Time: Aberdeen 0 - Hearts 0

Pawlett is on for Hayes, McGinn is on for Vernon.  Let's see if fresh legs can make some inroads.

Apparently they can't.

This is grim.  with an hour gone the only point of note is Rae's decent ankle-snapping challenge that sees him 'earn' a yellow.

67 minutes gone and Hearts have the ball in the net.

A Grainger free kick finds Sutton, and the Hearts man plants it easily under the slow-motion dive of Jamie the Vegetable. It's 1-0 to the Hearts, and the crowd goes.... wait... it's being chalked off by the over-zealous referee.  Apparently there's an infringement, and I completely agree with the decision.

Four minutes later and Hearts have the ball in the net again.  This time It's Grainger sweeping the ball into the box, with Sutton placing a great header past the slow-motion dive of... deja vu. Exactly the same move, exactly the same players, ball in the net for 1-0 to Hearts, and the crowd goes... wait... it's being chalked off by the over-zealous referee. Apparently there's an infringement (again) and I completely agree with the decision.

Two identical goals in four minutes for the Jammies, and both times the referee decides to take his whistle and shove it up Hearts' collective arsehole.

Good on you referee.  Good on you.

Sutton celebrates prematurely... twice. Ricky Foster realises he's came to the wrong game.

So with three perfectly good goals chalked off by a bampot of a referee, this game ends in an exciting 0-0 draw, with neither side able to put the ball in the net and make it stay there. 

On any other day that would have been 2-1 to the Bankrupt Submariners of Midlothian, so we should count ourselves lucky to escape this fucking fiasco with a point. 

Onwards and upwards. 

Game 3: St Johnstone vs Aberdeen

Game 3: St Johnstone vs Aberdeen

Boasting a mighty one point from our opening two games, it's just possible than I might need to bolster this shower of shite of a team, and being firmly of the belief that attack is the best form of defence, as well as being the best form of attack, I'm going to buy a new Striker.

A quick look at our scouting records shows that there's some Honduran dude by the name of Suazo just kicking his heels in the freebie market, and remember... thanks to the VERY healthy "Nae poonds and nae pince!" transfer budget Stewart Scrooge McDuck Milne has given me, the freebie market is EXACTLY what I'm looking at.

Fortunately Suazo is seemingly willing to work for absolute peanuts, and this is ideal because that's what we pay. Like they say, pay peanuts and you get monkeys.  I don't give a fuck, I just can't be relying on Vernon for the rest of the season, so if I have to play an actual monkey I will go to Edinburgh zoo and loan out Mr Biggles from the Monkey Hoose if needs be.

And I've just Googled Suazo and he's a black lad.  So now I look like one of those fucking racists you read about on the internets.  "That man called that black man a monkey! He's like one of those racists that you read about on the internets!" I hear you say. But in my defence, you can fuck off.

Suazo. Yup. Black lad. 

Anyway, Suazo is handed the illustrious number 33 shirt that so many fine Aberdeen strikers have worn before him.

So here goes, game 3... no wins yet, but surely to fuck just by the law of averages we're due a win?

Come on, Suazo... Daddy needs a new pair of shoes.

And we're off!

Suazo is straight into the team, despite being in no way match fit. Partnering the much maligned Scott 'I Nearly Scored' Vernon. McGinn is on the bench, why I don't know, I let the assistant pick the team. Seems like a bad idea to me, but I'm largely along for the ride here, so fuck, don't blame me.

Early St Johnstone (hereafter known as StJ to save typing all that out) pressure is dealt with easily by Considine, he really does have a gigantic gub, with Suazo looking lively and Vernon giving the ball away like a cock.

Vine picks up a booking for 'simulation' in the box, what we used to call diving... a yellow his only reward for trying to win a penalty. He's a fucking cheat. You watch yourself, son.  I know people.

Osbourne picks up a booking minutes later for a lovely and well-timed two-footed challenge on Abeid, and StJ start piling on a bit of pressure.  The change to an uninspiring 4-4-2 doesn't seem to be helping much, but it's early days.

20 minutes on the Timex, and Milsom finds Rae, Rae knocks it onto the new lad, and with three defenders around him Suarez seals the deal with a glorious goal on his debut.  I bought him, you know? It's like I'm weaving magic in the transfer market, if you ignore the useless goalkeeper I brought in.

Minutes later Suazo sends a great ball upfield to the feet of Vernon, and with a clear run on goal... nothing.

Are you seeing a pattern here? 30 odd games into this season and Craig Brown hadn't.

The rest of the half sees some weak attacking play by the Perth side, while Aberdeen look dangerous on the counter, with the new guy zipping around, putting in challenges and setting up chances. I like him already.

Half time arrives, and it's 1-0 the Dons.


Gavin Rae has been underperforming, by which I mean passing the ball straight to the opposition and losing out in challenges, so he's hooked and Low's on. Hughes is still injured, so I think I'm going to have to shop around for a new midfielder right quick. I wonder what the Young Brothers are up to these days?

Anderson's on for the injured Jack, and McGinn is thrown on inna. We're sticking at 4-4-2, maybe we'll get lucky.

The second half is dour affair, with no clear cut chances for either side, so that's your lot for this match report.

A solid 1-0 win for the Dons Soccer Reds of Aberdeen, 3 more points on the board, and I'm definitely  going to try to acquire a new midfielder, defender, and another goalie.

I Googled 'Aberdeen Fans' to highlight how happy the virtual dons fans were at the scoreline, and this is what I get.

Apparently this is the 52" Aberdeen Fan.  Seriously, a fucking ceiling fan comes up as the primary search result for 'Aberdeen Fans'/?   So, yeah, look at the jubilant Aberdeen fan.

LOOK AT IT!

Game 2: Aberdeen vs Ross County

So we try to pick ourselves up from our quite creditable slaughtering at the hands of the Little People (try saying that without imagining an Irish accent)... the Little People... and we're going to be up against the second worst shower of shite in the league, Ross County.  They sit above us only because they're one goal less shite than we are. If we're going to pick up the points needed to see us attain that glorious 8th spot by season's end we need to be beating teams like this bunch of fucking teuchters, and no mistake.

We're going to be keeping the attacking formation that stood us in such good stead against Celtic, we'll be man marking, but we'll be blootering long balls upfield because, frankly, our passing abilities aren't going to cut it.

The teams read:

Contrary to what I thought, this is our first home game of the season, not an away game.

We're going to be sticking with Clangers in goals, because according to the coaches this Briant guy I bought is even worse than Langfield. While I find that hard to believe, can you imagine if that turns out to be true?  fucking hell. Can't risk it... mustn't risk it... must sign traffic fucking cone...

So Game 2 of the season is about to get under way, and I have absolutely no doubts whatsoever that this is going to be pish of the highest order.  Are we ready?  Then let's begin.

Once upon a time....

Aberdeen vs Ross County

Well, deary me... this is dismal stuff.  Have you ever watched a bunch of five year olds try to play fitba? Well, imagine they're playing with a beachball, and they're all seriously mentally handicapped.  That's how bad this is.  Our long ball blootering doesn't seem to work, and County have the better of the opening few minutes...

The first 'highlight', and I use the word 'highlight' only in the loosest of loose terms, is when U21 starlet, and next young player to fuck off to England on the promise of 5k a week and a flash car, Ryan Jack, loses the ball in midfield. County's Vigurs skins the Dons lad, eventually the ball finding its way to Brittain, who slices the Aberdeen defence open with a brutal pass to Rocco Quinn, who controls the ball and hammers it into the net at Clanger's near post.

Well, look at that.  Beaten at the near post.  That wouldn't happen in real life, eh?

Ex QotS man Quinn cups his ears and runs along the RDS, taunting the casuals and mouthing 'Wankaaaas' like he's the cock of the walk.

It's 1-0 to the sheep shaggers.  To clarify that... 1-0 to County.

Chris Clark tangles with Rocco Quinn. "Not in the face!" squeals Clark like a fucking girl

I must stress that our game plan hasn't fallen apart, however. This is largely because we have no game plan. I do plan on shouting at them at half time, though... that aught to work.

We immediately go on the offensive, but our ineffectual attack is typified by Naysmith's 50 yard backpass when we should be applying pressure.  The fuck?

The first half toddles towards its unexciting end, and the score stands at Shaggers of Sheep 0 - Shaggers of Sheep 1

Half time sees the promised shouting, and Rae is pulled for being absolute gash. Low takes his place with orders to not be shite.

The second half sees us come out of the traps like narcoleptics at a comfy bed convention, with County dominating us like they're 11 lovely, fluffy pillows. A snap shot from Wohlfarth forces a save from Langfield inside the first couple of minutes, and Clangers immediately maintains the pressure on us by throwing the ball straight out for a County throw. He might look like the bastard lovechild of Terri Schiavo and a fairground coconut, but he's not even that good.

Here's that in visual form, in case it wasn't clear.

Despite Langfield and Reynolds' best efforts, however, we are coming more into this game, and on 53 minutes two corners are won in quick succession. The second finding the head of Considine, whose looping header defies County's Fraser and settles in the back of the net.  It's all square, and Aberdeen's solid defender, who kinda scares me to look at his face, has hauled the Dons back into this game.

Is it his mouth is too big for his face? Is that what scares me?

Anyway, 1-1 it is and we are definitely on the ascendancy here. 

66 minutes played and McGinn carves the County defence apart, finding the left boot of Vernon... he's clear of the County defence, he shifts the ball from his left foot to his other left foot, and with the gaping goal at his mercy....

....and so it remains 1-1.

Aberdeen continues to dominate the closing minutes, but with Hayes and McGinn both busy this game peters out to a 1-1 conclusion. 

Well, it's better than last week's result, but I think Vernon is going to be warming the bench if he doesn't sort his shit out right quick. I don't have much patience for fannybooting around like this.  It should have been 2-1 to the Dons, but Vernon... you let us down.

The good news is that our fabulous draw sees us creep up to within one place of Craig Brown's favoured position of 9th in the table. 

We sit in 10th spot.  Who can stop us now?

Well, it's St Johnstone in Perth next, so the answer is probably "St Johnstone"

Game 1: Celtic vs Aberdeen

Season 2012-13:  Game 1  Celtic v Aberdeen

This is it... Gamo Numero Uno of the 2012-13 season, and it's a toughie.  They don't get any toughier... it's the potato-eating munchkins from Glasgow Celtic of Ireland at their 400,000 capacity Stadium (Seville Calculator) The Parkhead Tattiedome.

Celtic: This is all you need to know about Celtic.

Since the demise of the Blue Filth, the Green Filth have upped their game and been twice as fucking obnoxious to make up for it. Led by tactical 'genius'  Neil the Ginger Potato Lennon, a man so ugly he's been described as EEEEEEK! by medical experts, the Glasgow Potato of Ireland Celtic are expected to romp the SPL without even fielding 11 players.

While this is probably true it would be nice if we could stick it right up the arses of all 5 million screaming Timmy retards (Seville Calculator) at the Parkhead Potatodome.

Let's get this game fired up and see what happens, shall we?

The teams line up as follows. Just ignore all the extra shit, this screencap came from the end of the game.  It's the best I could do without putting any actual effort into it. That's going to be something of a theme, btw, halfarsedry. That's a good word.  Halfarsedry. Anyway, as usual, click on the image and it gets bigger. How good?

The referee I assume looks at his watch, Mickey Mouse's hands say it's something o'clock, and the game... and the season.. are under way.

The early pressure, as is to be expected, is all Celtic's as they race forward like Celtic supporters at a Free Buckfast Morning at their twelve kids' nursery school. On they come, led by Freaks reject Scott Brown.. and just to bring this up, because I notice no fucker in the media has, how similar to the Freaks in the movie Freaks does Scott Brown look? I can't be the only one to have noticed this, surely?

Surely to fuck someone else has noticed?

LOOK OUT! THERE'S ANOTHER SCOTT BROWN BEHIND YOU!

Fucking Mong.

Anyway....

It's all Potato People in the early exchanges, as they hammer at our shaky defences like... I don't know... something hammery, I can't be fucking arsed thinking of simile. Suffice to say the cunts are all over us like a fat kid on a bar of chocolate. Oh, there's one.

It's only a matter of time before our defences are breached, and with 6 minutes gone it's the mong himself who engineers the goal.  Wanyama and Brown exchange passes, before Brown whips in exactly the kind of lovely cross that he's not known for in real life, and Hooper rises like a jumping salmon on a Spacehopper fitted with Rocketboots, to nod the ball past Jamie Langfield, and that's the opening goal. It was coming... oh, it was coming more definitely than a Polish sailor on my whore ex's tits was coming... that's how inevitably it was coming. But, fuck me, Hooper literally jumps 6 feet off the ground to get to the ball?  That's not even physically fucking possible, is it?  Who programs this fucking game? Fuck off.

I'M RICKY ROCKETPANTS!

So with the still warm Polish jisms running down our big old titties, it's 1-0 to the boghoppers, and there's 84 minutes of unresisted tittyfucking still to go.  Kids, if you're reading this, Uncle Kelt has a dirty mouth, so don't repeat anything you read on this blog in the presence of an adult.  Not even the word Tittyfucking.. that's a bad word. As is jisms. In fact, if you read a word and you're not sure what it means, just assume it's bad.

Anyway... it's 1-0 to Rashellick, and shit just got real, bitches.  That's Americaspeak.

Pareunia this for a game of soldiers. 
The Terrorist sympathisers seem quite pleased with themselves, and Fatty McLennon chucks another celebratory pie into his stupid, toothless gub, like Desperate Dan eating one of his famous Cow Pies.... if Desperate Dan were a ginger cunt. Johnny Hayes uses this moment of Irish Jubilation to take the ball for a run up the line, a run that terminates inside the Celtic box as the ball is punted out for a corner by some nameless Tim defender.  The corner is whipped in, it is unceremoniously humped up the park and falls to a retreating Gavin Rae who, unexpectedly, rifles in a 20 yard volley while backing away from goal.  Well, that was out of the blue, and an almost immediate if unlikely response.

Rape Face. This is what Gavin Rae's looks like. 

  Potatohead goes silent, and Lennon starts crying about how he wasn't loved as a child to every journalist within a ten mile radius. "Oi Jaaas waaaaned tuh beh looved!" he slavers in his disgusting Oirish accent. Saliva and pie dribble down the front of that two sizes too small tracksuit that he insists on wearing... and what the fuck is up with that tracksuit?  does he think he's still the svelt XXL he was during his playing days?  

Put on a bigger tracksuit you repulsive Pikey potato. 

So, incredibly, that's Celtic 1 - Aberdeen 1.

This lasts all of ten minutes.  Once more the Dons fail to deal with a cross, this time from Chalmers, and Lassad is there to head the ball in from point blank range.  Langfield can't believe it, he thought he had it covered, standing completely still and not attempting to prevent the ball from going into the net as he was. Surely Scotland's  best goalkeeper (if every other goalkeeper in Scotland suddenly died) will be kicking himself for not getting to that one.

What the fuck's going on here, do you reckon?

So, not incredibly, it's 2-1 to the Riverdancers.

Goal hero Rae picks up a booking on 37 minutes for apparently having had enough of looking at Brown's mental coupon, and does the only decent thing and decks the Celtic troglodyte just because. Even the Celtic fans applaud, because they have to put up with that face week in week out. Rae will have to be careful here, another booking and he can shoot up the road early before traffic gets bad.

With only a couple of minutes of the half left, the Brown Hooper combination... ever had a brown hooper?  Of course you have... the Brown Hooper combination combines once more to create the stuff of goals. A Brown flick on baffles the Aberdeen defence, and Hooper charges through to bury his second and Celtic's third.

This is more like what I expected.  Maybe I'll change things at half time.  Maybe not. The excitement is overwhelming.

Half Time: Celtic 3 - 1 Aberdeen

The second half sees a slightly improved Aberdeen, with several good looking moves down the flanks. The referee and linesman are programmed accurately, however, and any time it looks like we might be putting something together the match officials find some obscure reason to halt play and give possession back to the fuckers in green.

It isn't until the 73rd minute of the match before another goal is scored, and it's a cracker from bearded Greek ladyboy, LadyBoy Georgios Samaras.

McCourt picks up a loose ball in the box, and with three Aberdeen defenders watching him decide what to do, he eventually dinks an unchallenged ball onto the boot of Georgina, who gratefully rifles a shot into the back of Langfield's bag of onions.  It's 4-1, and there's a good chance we may lose this game if I were to be entirely honest here.

And, indeed, that does it for this game.  A crushing 4-1 trouncing at the filthy hands of the inbred Leprechaun people.  A quick look at the league tells us, oh, we're bottom.

Sack Kelt

The Highlights, should you be interested, are up.

Well, that didn't go according to plan, and our aim to finish above previous manger Craig Brown has suffered an early setback. Still, there's lots of games to go, and with a positive mental attitude and a fuckload of good fortune we may yet climb our way up to that mythical 8th spot before the season is out.

The only bright spot is that the goalkeeper hasn't had a save to make.

Next up, away to Ross County, the team above us by way of being one goal less shit than we are.

So that should be pish.