Posted on Sunday, 2nd September 2012 by lordofthewing
F*ckin’ terrible Celtic BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
Och, I gie up.
Did the butchers have a great deal on mince as it seems the vast majority had their brains replaced with it? I thought in a week that saw us qualify for the Champions League, earn riches of Richie Rich, sort out all our money worries and strengthen the squad we would have been a happy bunch willing to accept a dodgy second half with a squad that is down to the bare bones?
Oh, how wrong was I. The Billy Big Time Butt Munchers were out in force. So how did we come to annoy them?
By breathing most probably.
We lined up as such. Forster, Matthews, Wilson, Lustig, Izzy, McCourt, Wanyama, Twardzik, Forrest, Watt & Hooper. The subs were Zaluska, Commons, Slane, Irvine, McGregor, Chalmers & Fraser. The bench was sponsored by bum fluff.
Hibs? A tame yellow away top by their recent standards and an attempt to attract any confused Livingston fans. A new bunch of unrecognizable underachievers who on this evidence will live up to the low standards of the previous. They get marks off for not playing Shefki Kuqi. Do they not know that this is meant to be entertainment?
We kicked off and attacked. This was a feature of the first half. Us attacking with vigorous verve. Problem was we became wasteful due to gallusness and being far superior to the mellow yellows. We scored scored from a corner.
McCourt picked out the lurking Lustig. Lustig did what any Swede with a perfectly sculpted mustache would do. He put on Roxette and got dressed for success as he stroked the ball home. This got your war correspondents juices flowing as in his bid to be a betting millionaire by Christmas he had backed Lustig first goal and Celtic to win 4-0 at 175/1.
The truth is we should have been at least 4 up by half time.
Furrowing Forrest left a trail of yellow destruction in his wake and feed the beast that is Tony Watt. Watt failed to score or get it on target. His eye was out all day. It was a predictable drop off in form as he can’t be deadly and devastating every week.
Wanyama wandered into the box and stung the keepers gloves like a particularly angry bee, McCourt dashed and dummied a ball to Watt who aimed high. So high we ducked in the top tier behind the goal.
Hibs had a chance. Leigh Griffiths had an overhead kick, which I applauded. I like acrobatics on a football park and also I quite like Griffiths. I’m glad that he can play football a bit or he would never get a burd and would lead a lonely life probably stacking shelves in Lidils. He’s living Derek Riordons dream.
Watt scuttled through on goal. This was his moment. He shanked it by the post. His punishment was to be sent out to the wing for the whole of the second half were he cut a lonely Pettaesq figure. That move also punished us. Hooper headed home but the pesky post got in the way. As the half time whistle went the only mutterings was how much were we going to win by not that we may only leave with a draw stuffed up our jumpers.
But…..we started the 2nd half badly. This is a trend with us.
Yeah he looks like a painting, Jackson Irvines number 36, Come into the forest and taste the trees, The sun starts shining and I’m hard to please. The young lad came on for Wanyama. It meant we had two 18 year olds as our engine. Those who are hard to please wrote the lad off after a slowish spooked start the kid had. For me that is understandable they can’t all be as unflappable as Watt and Twardzik.
It is the experienced ones who should be looking in the mirror. Our poor start to the second half was caused by Izzy diddling, Hooper and Forrest sulking and ill communication between Forster and Lustig. Just because you have a loaded gun you don’t need to fire it.
Hibs had hit the post before they scored. It would a damn lie to say that you felt the goal was coming as it wasn’t. It was a long hoof which saw Lustig escort his date back home only to leave her to walk up the garden path herself. Before she was safely delivered to the door she was swept off her feet meaning that Lustig won’t get a second date. Forster should have meet them at the garden gate and it was a bit windy but it was a monumental Chuckle Brother moment.
Both to blame.
Did it wake us from our slumber?
Well, not quite. The Champions League Hangover hit the players and we wandered around a bit like we were shaking off heavy session. We were still better than the yellow pearls. Watt headed over, Paddy went jazzy but lazy with his finish but it wasn’t zestful. No one was cooking the breakfast and we were willing to go hungry.
Twardzik fired in a meek free kick which Ben Williams spilled like all good Hibs goalkeepers do. Lustig reacted quicker than most to slide in and blow the ball goalwards. In their attempts to be look interested a yellow one put into his own net. 3 goals in the game and two of them comical.
We allowed Hibs back into the game like a gracious host. Matthews was too busy checking his IPOD or some other gadget to be bothered to tackle a yellow toddler who stroked the ball home with Hibees only 2nd shot on target. It was an unjust equaliser and an unjust result. All our wounds were self inflicted but we still could have won it. Twardzik humffed a scrambled egg onto the ceiling and Commons had a go deflected by the post.
And that was that.
A game off two halves and we were the better side in both. We gave game time to our young players who gave performances that ranged from genuine hope to reminders of their age, Wilson was wily and Lustig looked lively. There was positives and certainly didn’t deserve to be booed.
I booed last night when the pub closed. That was the only thing that deserved to be booed yesterday. But then I’m not a total idiot.