Thursday, September 30th, 2010 « Untold Arsenal: Arsenal News. Supporting the Lord Wenger in all he does
Arsène’s huge down under
By Bruce
G’day all you whingeing Poms from the land Down Under, a paradise of amber nectar, aerial ping-pong and white pointers!!
Just stumbled upon your site as I was googlin’ Arse, now don’t get yer knickers in a knot, it is strictly research for my own gratification like and I red on a bit.
Just got back in from the pub with a gut-load of piss, been flat out like a lizard, drinking. Minding my own business watching Kylie the barmaid doling out the four X, great arse Kylie, when she walks looks like two dwarfs fighting in a sack.
Bloody oath I bumped into to some tiny blow-in dill , bit of a raw prawn if you ask me looked like a good root and a fart would kill him. Strange looking mongrel, all pale with a head on him like a sucked mango. Strangest thing, he had a picture of a cock on his shirt.
Well blow me I thought, I’ll be buggered if I turn me back on this wombat. Looked as trustworthy as a Pakistani cricketer in bookies if you ask me.
Could tell for sure he was as cunning as a twitchy shit house rat and not enough brains to give him-self a headache. He was as miserable as a bastard on Father’s Day. But just to be hospitable like I lent him an ear while I tucked into me Heart Starter..
Strewth that fella could talk, even for a two pot screamer, I swear he never stopped yakking even when I strode off to the dunny to siphon the python.
Started bitching like a love sick sheep on a drovers holiday about some fella up in Pomgolia who manages the Arse who is dead set doin real well for himself and his work mates.
Last time I met a bloke like him, was when I was burgled, took nothing of value but emptied the rubbish bin and me dog got pregnant.
Anyways, I was just finishing me 12th schooner when he’s calling you Arse’s ‘about as useful as tits on a bull’ and how his ‘Harry has you by the short and curlies’ and it’s as obvious as a shag on a rock, youse blokes will end up ‘skint in the old trophy department’.
No worries mate I said, I go and have a Captain Cook at this as the chance of him shouting a round looked as scarce as rocking horse shit.
So I threw a couple dozen tinnies in the old Holden Ute, for medicinal purposes only and shot through back to the farm.
Made it home in double quick time with a bit of the old lead foot and boy was I stoked, thought the missus had left me there for a minute.
But after a moment or two I remembered the old ambo driver had taken the Sheila to the hossie.
Recovering from a fair dinkum sex session where she was left walking bandy legged you ask…..?
Na silly cow burned herself on the Barbie, roasting a few snags and shrimps for me tea, so I reckon its starvation rations ‘til brekkie when she gets out. I am so hungry I could bloody well eat the horse and chase the rider.
So here I am sat in me budgie smugglers as popular with the wife as a brown eyed mullet in the backyard pool checking you blokes out.
Well after considerable effort, reading ‘til I thought I would chuck, I reckon the bloke was so full of shit his eyes were brown. All that yak about you blokes being lower than a centipede’s scrotum was just a snow job.
The guts of it as I see it, is this.
You got a couple quid in the bank.
The Manager is spot on.
The competition is stuffed.
Get your slackers to go walk about.
Team is looking spunky.
Stop sooking like a sheep-shagged Skippy in a pink singlet and go and win.
I’m off down the TAB and put a couple a bucks on it.
Don’t let the bastards drag you down, I’ll check in again to see how youse get on.
Bruce
The Media Influence on Supporters (includes our first list of Sky Sports advertisers)