Hello, munchkins. You might be wondering where was I gone. Well, turns out a double blow of bottling a final and Kolo leaving can really have a toll on a man. I was in a cave, drinking my pain away. I’ve become friends with rats. I actively tried to sell my kidney online just to buy the new God-awful Liverpool away kit with a bunch of red skidmarks on the sides. If anything, it was a very regular summertime for me when I was gone.
But now, a new chapter beckons. A new chapter for Liverpool to do something great. The time to do that is commonly known as the…
And of course, Liverpool are totally going to boss it. Because we have loads of fucking money. We have Jurgen fucking Klopp. And the press never lies.
HAHAHAHAHAHAH FACKIN HELL SURE WHY NOT
We are going to bloody boss the whole lot. But while we are waiting for our new signing Messi to piledrive John Stones so hard he lands in the Etihad, let’s see what else was happening while I was bawling my eyes out in a cave in Uzbekistan.
A Polish guy who isn’t the Polish guy we were all looking for, Piotr Zielinski got us into the most depressing transfer saga since that one this year. And the one last year. And the one the year before.
Giving us more hints than a drunk girl in a Magaluf nightclub, this little barfly was spotted wearing our shirts, praising Jurgen Klopp and (possibly) trying to sing “Poor Scouser Tommy” in a packed funeral ceremony. Having a two-month old saga over Piotr Zielinski is like buying a brand new BMW and losing 40 pounds just to have an outside chance of shagging Katie Hopkins. Ironically, Katie Hopkins probably hates Piotr, because his name isn’t Barry and he isn’t a typical Englishman plumber from Croydon. Also he isn’t a brain dead moron, which is kind of a dealbreaker for her I believe.
Of course, he is being mentioned as a ‘bargain’. Colour me surprised. Jurgen Klopp still treats the fucking transfers as if his budget is collected by his director of football scoundreling the local fountains and picking up pennies from unsuspecting children.
“You attract their attention, I’ll grab the ginger one and go through his pockets looking for coins. Capeesh?”
Yes, Lewandowski might have come from the Polish first league but so has Wlacek who has a part time job as a cleaner in the same God-forsaken club he’s banging goals in for.
Listen up, Jurgen. Even Crystal Palace are rolling in more dough than whoever’s fucking the Michelin man. Go on and spend, mate. Get excited! Jurgen Klopp is really fucking cheap. Don’t believe me? His famous hair transplant is dog hair he’s received from one fluffy pupper as Zeljko Buvac was chatting up his owner.
A fucking treat for every bisexual in the planet, Mario Gotze is possibly the worst cartoon character who’s ever come to life. He must be the weirdest fucking gal in the whole of this county fest. A man who definitely spends his Thursdays dressed up in drag, this ex-decent German has apparently agreed literally everything with us and coincidentally (gasp!) decided to fuck off right after we lost the Europa final.
Now let me get this straight, you miserable punching bag from Orange Is The New Black. You decided to fuck us off because we lost the final? The final we’ve had around a 50% chance of winning? Hmmmmm. That sounds like a logic which would get you stabbed in your very own jail cell. Would you jump with a rope if it had a 50% choice of snapping? (after you rejected us, I know I would :( ) Would you fuck a woman who has a 50% chance of getting you AIDS? Would you eat this great cream eclair which has a 50% chance of making you shit yourself during a football game? Would you go partying with a Liverpool player if there was a 50% chance you’d have to go out with Jordan Henderson, the boring fucking bastard?
You don’t take those risks of no fucking reward. So I’ll tell you what, you poster boy of accidental boners, so be it. We’ll have someone from Southampton instead.
‘I MADE AVIS FOR YOU MAN. I MADE FUCKING EDITS. YOU PIG. I’LL NEVER FORGIVE YOUUUUUU
When I was a child, I didn’t want to drink medicine. Now, when I’m grown up, I’m popping pills like Smarties. What does that mean? I grew up. I grew up as a person and I understand that when it’s time to get fucking turnt, it’s time to get fucking turnt. Turns out, even with years of vast experience, Liverpool are not as grown up as I imagined. Because even when there’s some great medicine for our defensive woes available in the market, we don’t seem to give a single fuck.
I’m talking about Jonas Hector. Oh, you know. Jonas Hector, Germany’s first choice left back? Oh you know. Jonas Hector, a non-liability kind of a player who probably doesn’t even own a hoverboard, bless his soul? Oh you know. Jonas Hector, a man who’s banged in the winning fucking penalty through Gianluigi Buffon to send his team to the semis? No biggie, really. But you can stay here, Liverpool. You can stay here in bed and be sick. Or you can take this pill, take this shot and be a fucking man. What it’s going to be, Liverpool? You know I only want good for you.
“Stop being a little bitch, Liverpool. It’s only so you’d be strong once you grow up.”
I have a certain passion wishing LUSTFULLY for a player I didn’t know about three months earlier. Liverpool fans seem to be on the same wavelength. Because ever since we’ve been linked with a 20-year-old with nice hair this spring, he’s turned from “a promising fella” to “WE MUST HAVE HIM HE’S A STA-AAA-AAAR”.
Do not underestimate the ability of Liverpool fans to turn players into undeserved stars, mind you. We collectively hosted the biggest ever episode of “Punk’d”, where we managed to make Manchester City think Raheem Sterling is worth 50 million pounds
(maybe now he is, fucking thanks, Brexit)
“Hi, I’m Ian Ayre and today we’re going to fool a bunch of unsuspecting billionaires!”
So of course, no doubt we’re going to make Dahoud seem like a superstar.
What I don’t get is just one thing. What the fuck do we want —-
- Do we want Liverpool to sign experienced, proven players?
- Or do we want Liverpool to sign raw, interesting talent?
Please let me know in the comments or on Twitter what should we aim for. Because I know the fact we’re linked with Dahoud should infuriate me. I just don’t know for what reason. Am I angry because he’s young? Or am I angry we can’t sign him? Or am I angry because Twitter is the only place I can channel my frustrations of the real world? God, this internet thing is difficult.
Therefore for now, I’m just going to enjoy having him on Snapchat and sending pictures of my dick with “LFC” drawn on them like the rest of you lot.
Because if he joins, I may as well just imagine that was because of me. And my dick. And your dick. We are one, Mahmoud. We are one passion. You will never walk alone. And you will get loads and loads of dick pics from the fans all around the world.
Isn’t that what football is all about?
See you next time, when I’ll talk about more football players. I only talked about four and it’s already over 1300 words. If I wrote about every single one, this column would cost 4.99 on Amazon and none of you would pay.
Catch me up on @Kolology on Twitter to see the remainder of the meltdown that is my life.