Pedantic_Hibee
29-01-2010, 11:00 PM
Good evening my little dumplings,
Well I hope you are sincerely enjoying the appointment of CheerUp tonight.
Of course, his appointment epitomises everything that is crass and classless at your club; announced only hours after Csaba Laszlo got the chop. Only a fool would be naive enough to think Hearts moved THAT quickly to replace the Hungarian filibuster.....don't forget it took you two seasons to appoint Csaba having employed a Lithuanian undertaker who scared the **** out of me, a satsuma in a shellsuit, a convicted sex offender and StarJumpEddie amongst other luminaries.
There's no doubt been some underhand dealings from Uncle Vladimir whereby your sordid little club have sought out CheerUp way beforehand to gauge his interest whilst poor wee Csaba was still praying for that elusive striker that's escaped your grasp for the last 843 transfer windows. Below the belt indeed. Talking of below the belt, CheerUp's bumbling mumblings tell us that he was contacted by phone whilst in a cubicle.....well I hope he closely watched the ***** that just left his erse because his career and reputation is about to follow it doon the pan once he wakens up to Uncle Vladimir's behaviour.
If he thought he was undermined by the Killie chairman, wait until he sees what the Vladimir the Tinkerer has got in store for him, after all, the Tinkerer's already showed no class in booting out the erererTinkTinkTinkTinkererer and shoe-horning CheerUp into the job with, I imagine, promises of 100% autonomy on all things football at HoMFC (I'm sure wee Rodney will get that down to 60% without you daft bell-ends batting an eyelid at the next AGM).
Whilst I can't access JKB as your two-bob server can't handle 400,000 maroon mutants logging on, you're no doubt back-slapping each other as you welcome home a "legend" and once more offer Vlad your erse, your boyfriend and shares in your income (roughly translated; blindly handing over £400 a year and complaining about it for 9 months solid).
Of course, as is the norm for you deluded little fuds, you'll all unite and proclaim that Csaba was killing the club every day that he was there and how glad you've got rid of him as well as that Werner Burger chap (has anyone ever seen him and the leading chimp from Bigfoot and the Hendersons in the same room). 'cos that's your style isn't it? Everyone that leaves the club was a villain, anything that goes wrong is a conspiracy and not, I repeat NOT, the fault of Vlad.
You'll no doubt now be looking forward to days of glory as CheerUp returns home and leads you to world domination with your young superstars (what happened to Rapnik, Copil and Kostadinov?) as well as the signing of Darren Barr.....I thought we showed no ambition in signing players from a team that were nearly relegated? Funny how opinions change to suit agendas.
You'll also be presuming that us wee teamers will be bricking it that you've brought back your Hero (He's our hero too, who else would give us 0v7, 6v2 and 5v1) and how your "rightful position will be restored soon".
Fact of the matter is, your classless, dignity stripped club are in their rightful position at the moment; middle of the league. Mediocre.
That is what your club deserves, nothing more and nothing less. And who's to blame for that? Answer - You.
Don't get me wrong, Vlad is an erse (although us peg-sellers love him...hell, even I'm considering getting his name tattooed on my back), but it's the meek, pathetic surrender of you all that has left your club in the sorry state that it is in. And the return of CheerUp won't change that (although you'll convince yourself that it does).
Delusions of grandeur have come back to bite you on the bahookey, BELIEVING that you were far bigger than you were, spending way over the odds on second-rate players who made a mockery of your club as they strutted around in the once famous maroon shirt.
Everything your once proud club stood for has had the heart and soul ripped out of it for the past 5/6 years by one man; can you blame him though? No, no you f****ng can't. And why not? Because all you muppets have stood back and let him, too scared to oppose the regime.
Instead, you do a whopping 180 degree turn and hand your money to him at the turn of a new season, signing up for a season of eye-bleeding football and giving Uncle Vladimir creative licence to spend the next 9 months making a pig's erse of your "football club".
From top to bottom, you're in disarray. The fact that the repayment of £17.6m in just over a week's time isn't at the foremost of your thoughts shows how detached from HoMFC you have all become.
If that were at Hibs, it'd be a different story. In fact, it wouldn't even be up for consideration because WE (the fans) would never let it get that bad in the first place. We were once under threat and we rose like a phoenix from the ashes, we stood tall in the face of closure, we united and rallied against a regime that wanted to strip the history, identity and traditions from OUR football club.
Not so long ago, Chris Robinson made a slight alteration to your club badge and to a man, you all went tonto over it. Uncle Vladimir rode in on the crest of a wave in 2004 and ever since then, he's turned your club into a laughing stock up and down the country without a whimper from you (save for some fat bassa kicking a hat and two of you happy-slapping each other in a car park). He's turned you into a club that's arguably hated more than the Old Firm. He's wreaked havoc with your long-term future with his whimsical hirings and firings and his frankly maniacal decisions. He's doubled your debt and gave you nothing to show for it bar a Scottish Cup (you can have your 2nd place in the league as well, but try and remember next time that it's not protocol to blast the Champions League anthem from the tannoys in a qualifying round, wait until you're in it proper. Fuds).
Was it worth £20m? 'cos if it is, I'd rather live without it so I can support a club that maintains it's integrity, pays its bills (and its players), has a board of directors that direct, has a manager that's allowed to manage, has coaches that are allowed to coach and has players that are bought/sold and selected by the manager that's paid to manage.
You f****rs can do what you do best and bury your heads in the sand and continue to allow your club to be made a mockery of by a merry band of non-English speaking lackies that spread malaise throughout you.
I cannot think of any fans from any other club in Britain who would so willingly drop their keks and silently accept the beasting that Vladimir inflicts on you at a regular interval.
But Vladimir's the man you have to love, he's the abusive husband who you cannot help but give one last chance. He beats the pride and affection out for you but then you sweep it under the carpet as he turns up at your door once in a blue moon (in this case Tynecastle) and says it with flowers (new stand/striker/manager/autonomy for manager - delete as applicable).
Because you've got to love him, there's no other option; he's the man who can do whatever he likes with you. He's the man that's defaced you so badly that no other man would want you such is your state of affairs. He's the man that has you over a barrel. He's the man that no matter what he does wrong, it's always someone else's fault. He's the man that swept you off your feet and told you he would sort you out financially (doubled your debt). He's the man that, despite the warnings from your friends, he could do no wrong in your eyes. He's the man that promised you a trip abroad every year (where you going this summer?). He's the man that promised you implants so you had an enviable top two (David f****ng Witteveen and Christian p1ssing Nade?). He's the man that said he'd buy you a £51million mansion (still in that wee wooden shed?). He's the man that said he'd get you full membership to the gymnasium ("12 o'clock, we're on now"). He's the man that said he'd wine and dine you with the good life (one night in Bar Roma for you and your mates to bond....and charged you for it).
He's the man. He's still the man. He's the man you love to forgive, he's the man you can't help forgive, he's the man that in your eyes saved you, he's the man that you think makes you look good, he's the man that puts you on a pedestal and whispers sweet nothings in your ear (who cares if they're broken promises....at least the thought was there). He's the man.
He's the man that's broke you down, battered down your defences, removed every ounce of pride, integrity and dignity that you once had yet somehow made you feel fortunate that he's in your life. Even when he smashed your vintage bottle of Portuguese wine (Aguiar) and re-appeared a month or two later with a £5 bottle of Tesco's Spanish Red (Suso), you were thankful.
When everyone else in the world can see that he's the wrong man for you, you still can't see it. You still defend him to the hilt, to such an extent that everyone else has turned against you yet because he's brainwashed you into his way of thinking, you've built up a siege mentality and erased your past life from memory decrying it's worth whilst convincing yourself that you can make it, so long as he's with you.
Well I hope you are sincerely enjoying the appointment of CheerUp tonight.
Of course, his appointment epitomises everything that is crass and classless at your club; announced only hours after Csaba Laszlo got the chop. Only a fool would be naive enough to think Hearts moved THAT quickly to replace the Hungarian filibuster.....don't forget it took you two seasons to appoint Csaba having employed a Lithuanian undertaker who scared the **** out of me, a satsuma in a shellsuit, a convicted sex offender and StarJumpEddie amongst other luminaries.
There's no doubt been some underhand dealings from Uncle Vladimir whereby your sordid little club have sought out CheerUp way beforehand to gauge his interest whilst poor wee Csaba was still praying for that elusive striker that's escaped your grasp for the last 843 transfer windows. Below the belt indeed. Talking of below the belt, CheerUp's bumbling mumblings tell us that he was contacted by phone whilst in a cubicle.....well I hope he closely watched the ***** that just left his erse because his career and reputation is about to follow it doon the pan once he wakens up to Uncle Vladimir's behaviour.
If he thought he was undermined by the Killie chairman, wait until he sees what the Vladimir the Tinkerer has got in store for him, after all, the Tinkerer's already showed no class in booting out the erererTinkTinkTinkTinkererer and shoe-horning CheerUp into the job with, I imagine, promises of 100% autonomy on all things football at HoMFC (I'm sure wee Rodney will get that down to 60% without you daft bell-ends batting an eyelid at the next AGM).
Whilst I can't access JKB as your two-bob server can't handle 400,000 maroon mutants logging on, you're no doubt back-slapping each other as you welcome home a "legend" and once more offer Vlad your erse, your boyfriend and shares in your income (roughly translated; blindly handing over £400 a year and complaining about it for 9 months solid).
Of course, as is the norm for you deluded little fuds, you'll all unite and proclaim that Csaba was killing the club every day that he was there and how glad you've got rid of him as well as that Werner Burger chap (has anyone ever seen him and the leading chimp from Bigfoot and the Hendersons in the same room). 'cos that's your style isn't it? Everyone that leaves the club was a villain, anything that goes wrong is a conspiracy and not, I repeat NOT, the fault of Vlad.
You'll no doubt now be looking forward to days of glory as CheerUp returns home and leads you to world domination with your young superstars (what happened to Rapnik, Copil and Kostadinov?) as well as the signing of Darren Barr.....I thought we showed no ambition in signing players from a team that were nearly relegated? Funny how opinions change to suit agendas.
You'll also be presuming that us wee teamers will be bricking it that you've brought back your Hero (He's our hero too, who else would give us 0v7, 6v2 and 5v1) and how your "rightful position will be restored soon".
Fact of the matter is, your classless, dignity stripped club are in their rightful position at the moment; middle of the league. Mediocre.
That is what your club deserves, nothing more and nothing less. And who's to blame for that? Answer - You.
Don't get me wrong, Vlad is an erse (although us peg-sellers love him...hell, even I'm considering getting his name tattooed on my back), but it's the meek, pathetic surrender of you all that has left your club in the sorry state that it is in. And the return of CheerUp won't change that (although you'll convince yourself that it does).
Delusions of grandeur have come back to bite you on the bahookey, BELIEVING that you were far bigger than you were, spending way over the odds on second-rate players who made a mockery of your club as they strutted around in the once famous maroon shirt.
Everything your once proud club stood for has had the heart and soul ripped out of it for the past 5/6 years by one man; can you blame him though? No, no you f****ng can't. And why not? Because all you muppets have stood back and let him, too scared to oppose the regime.
Instead, you do a whopping 180 degree turn and hand your money to him at the turn of a new season, signing up for a season of eye-bleeding football and giving Uncle Vladimir creative licence to spend the next 9 months making a pig's erse of your "football club".
From top to bottom, you're in disarray. The fact that the repayment of £17.6m in just over a week's time isn't at the foremost of your thoughts shows how detached from HoMFC you have all become.
If that were at Hibs, it'd be a different story. In fact, it wouldn't even be up for consideration because WE (the fans) would never let it get that bad in the first place. We were once under threat and we rose like a phoenix from the ashes, we stood tall in the face of closure, we united and rallied against a regime that wanted to strip the history, identity and traditions from OUR football club.
Not so long ago, Chris Robinson made a slight alteration to your club badge and to a man, you all went tonto over it. Uncle Vladimir rode in on the crest of a wave in 2004 and ever since then, he's turned your club into a laughing stock up and down the country without a whimper from you (save for some fat bassa kicking a hat and two of you happy-slapping each other in a car park). He's turned you into a club that's arguably hated more than the Old Firm. He's wreaked havoc with your long-term future with his whimsical hirings and firings and his frankly maniacal decisions. He's doubled your debt and gave you nothing to show for it bar a Scottish Cup (you can have your 2nd place in the league as well, but try and remember next time that it's not protocol to blast the Champions League anthem from the tannoys in a qualifying round, wait until you're in it proper. Fuds).
Was it worth £20m? 'cos if it is, I'd rather live without it so I can support a club that maintains it's integrity, pays its bills (and its players), has a board of directors that direct, has a manager that's allowed to manage, has coaches that are allowed to coach and has players that are bought/sold and selected by the manager that's paid to manage.
You f****rs can do what you do best and bury your heads in the sand and continue to allow your club to be made a mockery of by a merry band of non-English speaking lackies that spread malaise throughout you.
I cannot think of any fans from any other club in Britain who would so willingly drop their keks and silently accept the beasting that Vladimir inflicts on you at a regular interval.
But Vladimir's the man you have to love, he's the abusive husband who you cannot help but give one last chance. He beats the pride and affection out for you but then you sweep it under the carpet as he turns up at your door once in a blue moon (in this case Tynecastle) and says it with flowers (new stand/striker/manager/autonomy for manager - delete as applicable).
Because you've got to love him, there's no other option; he's the man who can do whatever he likes with you. He's the man that's defaced you so badly that no other man would want you such is your state of affairs. He's the man that has you over a barrel. He's the man that no matter what he does wrong, it's always someone else's fault. He's the man that swept you off your feet and told you he would sort you out financially (doubled your debt). He's the man that, despite the warnings from your friends, he could do no wrong in your eyes. He's the man that promised you a trip abroad every year (where you going this summer?). He's the man that promised you implants so you had an enviable top two (David f****ng Witteveen and Christian p1ssing Nade?). He's the man that said he'd buy you a £51million mansion (still in that wee wooden shed?). He's the man that said he'd get you full membership to the gymnasium ("12 o'clock, we're on now"). He's the man that said he'd wine and dine you with the good life (one night in Bar Roma for you and your mates to bond....and charged you for it).
He's the man. He's still the man. He's the man you love to forgive, he's the man you can't help forgive, he's the man that in your eyes saved you, he's the man that you think makes you look good, he's the man that puts you on a pedestal and whispers sweet nothings in your ear (who cares if they're broken promises....at least the thought was there). He's the man.
He's the man that's broke you down, battered down your defences, removed every ounce of pride, integrity and dignity that you once had yet somehow made you feel fortunate that he's in your life. Even when he smashed your vintage bottle of Portuguese wine (Aguiar) and re-appeared a month or two later with a £5 bottle of Tesco's Spanish Red (Suso), you were thankful.
When everyone else in the world can see that he's the wrong man for you, you still can't see it. You still defend him to the hilt, to such an extent that everyone else has turned against you yet because he's brainwashed you into his way of thinking, you've built up a siege mentality and erased your past life from memory decrying it's worth whilst convincing yourself that you can make it, so long as he's with you.