That was the week that was…

Premier League Roundup

Happy Birthday, John!

Forest 3 Brighton 0 – on my birthday too! Course, the latter happens every year, but the other – well, you know what I mean. Plenty of other merriment too – going one better than the Haye fight, Old Trafford was headlined firstly by a boisterous bruiser stamping on Zlat’s bighead, followed by Ibra’s aggressive elbow in the next round. But then to top it all, Noddy missed the late pen, vainly trying to ruin the Cherries’ day – not mine, though, great result. Hope the FA don’t live up to their initials, and then we’ll see what the Mousmen can do without Big Beaky for a change.

Old Gunnerial disease proverb: no Axels means wheels fall off. The Poolgame ended more positively for the homers after pre-match German puzzlement was greatly relieved when the opposition line up was revealed. Another defeat, and as the old Frog’s star settles (too) slowly in the North London skies, while everyone at the Emirates contemplate non-Euro finishes, the vultures are circling amid tales of nuclear fall out on the training field: is will-to-win the Chilly issue? Might explain a few things… Meanwhile down the Lane, horrid nearby neighbours are nosing away upwards, six superior points innit, mate, with the Harralli twins now making silly hand gestures to rub sodium chloride into raw Red wounds.

Swans fans are getting their money’s worth, eh? Swing the big crosses over and Viva España! That’s even letting Gray coloured opposition who normally don’t travel well lead the way, before Swalian ecstasy erupted in injury time. Has the well-travelled black-coated man found his happy home at last?

Goals you want? Vicarage Road saw a seven goal cracker with the Hornets stung 3 – 4 by that barmy Saints side – you know, the same lads who just lost out in the Awful Cup Final a few sad days ago. Saddos? Nah, Nathan Redmond was brilliant, and of course Gabbo did it again. Question: how do they do that?

Shakespearean subplots have confused everyone at that King Stadium and everywhere else, especially in TV studios – step forward idiotic Martin Keown, he president of the van Nistelroy Baiting Society. Hunlucky Hull hurt here by Foxy feelings of déjà vu. Huge Humberside hangover again on Sunday, Tigers licking their wound in t’middle of bankrupt ‘Borough and suffering Sunderland. The Black Cats proved no match for Sane—powered City. Regal result for Palace at Tony’s Hawthorns, big Sam at last doing what BS does best, easing away from the Dreaded Drop Department with a gritty 2 – 0 win: Zaha and Townsend’s goals both gems. Baggies still eighth though, ‘snot bad, TP…

Mundane Monday: normal service was resumed ‘oop top, boring old Chelski Hammering the nails into Slav’s lads and the rest of the Prem at the London Stadium, the old firm of Hazard and Costa doing the business – the Blues are ten points clear now. At this rate I’ll be supporting United in the Cup (only joking…) to stop a(nother) Bridging double – now that would hurt the Mancunian Miserable One. Happy Days!

Did I mention Forest won?