wearealldoomed

That doesn't rhyme with "tea". Noel would be all flummoxed.

Why has a thread about pumping suddenly turned into a group quotation of the lyrics from Digsy's Fucking Dinner?

This thread has taken a rather disturbing turn.

"Gingey" seems to have spread it's tenticles thoughtout the Greater Glasgow region now. Shall have to see if any c'nt I work with knows of "glass cheque". Most of Glasgow and a good bit beyond is represented there, so someone must know where it originates.

Anywhere else in Scotland, that would be it's primary use, aye. Glad to hear that Lanarkshire's rich patois has rubbed off anyways. Is that the East End equivalent? I've heard of the phrase, but never heard anyone in Glasgow use it.

I thought you meant the plural of "rammy", which is a Coatbridge word for a returnable soft drink bottle. I assumed Adam had picked that one up whilst working in Whifflet years back. In other parts of west central Scotland, shit words such as "gingey" and "hector" are used instead.

Only folk who have some connection to Coatbridge and parts of Airdrie would know what that means. It wasn't until my early 20s that I reealised that it wasn't used in that context anywhere else in the land.

Why? There's f'ck all I can do to influence the direction of the club unless I find a spare £500K lying in the street and buy JB out. I don't particularly like the way the club is going, but as my only involvment is deciding whether or not to cough up £15 on any given Saturday, I don't really have any right to challenge the board. You an your fellow Trust types thoughout the land have a different take on the game. Each to their on and all that, but I suspect you're cvastly outnumbered by folk whose only interest is the on-pitch spectacle.

None of that explains why they would give a f'ck as to how the club came into being. I enjoy the game of football, and couldn't care less about football politics. I wasted enough attending dozens of meeting when Airdrieonians were hitting the skids to know that I have absolutely no interest in the internal workings of clubs. If at the age of 12, I'd found out that Hitler, Mussolini and Pol Pot had previously sat on the board of Airdrieonians, that wouldn't have prevented me from following the team. A 12 year old Livvy fan should bear no guilt over shit that they have sod all responsibility for.

Are you still pished? I remember nattering to you for a wee bit, but I've f'ck all idea what was said. In fact, that sums up the entire evening.

I'm fucking rough today. Pitching up at Walkabout after 6 pints and half a bottle of wine seemed a good idea at the time. Still, what I remember about the night seemed good fun.

We'd be looking at 200-250 extra away fans on average, which would likely cover a couple of additional players. Even with that, we'd still be running with a squad of 17-18 rather then last season's 22-23. Even last year's big-ish squad still left us playing various players out of position throughout the season. Tis all very well having the youngsters filling in against Stenny or Arbroath, but not against full time opposition. With three or four key players missing, there would be every chance of getting our arses handed to us by competent first division teams. I'm not looking forward to next season, but would rather watch us have a pop at the second division than another scramble for survival in the first. My gut feeling is that the SFL will run with complete first and second divisions, and a gap in the third. Spartans might be ready to go, I suppose. Ach well, there are some belting days out in the first next season, even if we do struggle.

Considering we'll be running with a squad of 15 full timers supplimented by U-19s, attempting to compete in the first division next season would be insane. Crowds are falling off a cliff as it is without the added attaction of 6-0 home defeats to Ross County. A decent season in the 2nd will see crowds level off at 800-1000. If we were getting tanked playing a sub-standard squad in the first, I reckon we'd be lucky to pull in 500 home supporters.

Was it a good indigenous British midge that bit you, or one of those horrible malaria carrying darkie c'nts from Africa?

I was chortling at that. F'ck knows what was going on there. That said, if the standard of written English on P&B is any guide to the level of literacy amongst Scotish fitba' fans, perhaps the Oxford English Dictionary should be handed out free of charge at all games here.

That wuld be no more ludicrous than a good 50% of the office wide circulars in here anyways.

I'm thinking that a placard would be more appropriate.

I appear to have acquired a midgie bite on my left nipple. Repeatedly scratching one's tit whilst sat in an office full of women is likely to land me a place on the register.

F'ck that. This is when it gets entertaining. When the season starts, I'll be duty bound to discuss Airdrie's latest 0-0 draw with some non-entity in the seaside league. I much prefer car-crash posting and the enthusiastic trading of personal insults.

The only remedial action you'll be taking is a hair of the dog pint at opening time. If you have fucked up the lawn, you could always dig it up and re-plant it in Tate Modern's "Turbine Room". It would be no less pointless than 90% of the other guff exhibited in there. I think I'll attack the lot with a spraygun when I'm back in London next month.

Thank f'ck it's not just me. The place feels like the aftermath of a nuclear test caried out exclusively on OF fans. You've cut your grass in the pattern of an eight foot paipier-mache boaby?

Correct. I did find Accies' "Dougie Imrie Die!" chant amusing in a juvenile way though. Choosing not to posed veiled references to alcoholism after his every tenth post he makes isn't exactly difficult either. The three worst hangovers I've had all involved Buckfast, albeit in conjunction with other drinks. I should do a wee experiment by chucking shitloads of caffiene, some "vanilla extract" and a couple of voddies into my bog standard red wine to see if the effect is the same. In reply to Adam's comment, the mentioning of a football team was latching onto an easy target. Weanish, I know, but I didn't get where I am today by rising above petty shite like that.

Oh, for the days when a bottle of Bucfast didn't provoke a hangover that lasts into the early hours of the following morning. I am indeed a vindictive little shit, and I'm prone to stooping to personal abuse from time to time. The difference is that I don't stalk folk around the internet to persue this. Edit: If anyone wishes to debate the actions of Liverpool fans at Heysel and Hillsborough, I can't be arsed, frankly. My best mate (a Liverpool fan), and I have fallen out over this often enough, so I don't really give a f'ck about the opinions of a bunch of plastic Scousers on the internet.

He does come across as a particularly vindictive little shit. I suppose anyone who "supports" a shower of murdering b*****ds is quite likely to be a cockfarmer.

The Andrew Peace one had been in the offer today, but they were all gone by the time I arrived. Had I known that the good ones were all gone, I'd have saved myself the walk and went to Haddows (100 yards) or the Co-op (500 yards). Ach well, I bought some posh sausages and fruit juice in addition to guff wine, so it wasn't a totally wasted journey.