I'm not going to pretend these two are the best in the world, but there's something about this photo that makes me want to grab Granny Danger by the breasts, plant my nut right between his beady wee eyes and scream Derry Rhumba as he leaves his circus orca frame in the cobbled ground.
Maybe, we could get Hooleys tear stream when we romp to victory at Tannadice to act like the old 'cannonball' at the Olympia and send Orca Danger right down the Hulltoon and back into the sea as he falls.
Two c***s in that photo that know the club and will fucking love it if we do them Arab b*****ds in the league this year.
This is what football is missing in the English top tier. A bit of raw passion you fucking disgrace to the game b*****ds. That champions league final was a fucking disaster, but that's the way football is going ladies and gentlemen.
Listen, I'd of rather have a video of Susan Boyle strumming her goods than any clips from last season. But I'm not going to slip off and start supporting an English club for some success. People dancing up the paves of Stobswell as Liverpool lift the cup. Fucking good ane you muppets. A bit of euthenesia wouldn't go a miss folks.
It's not all about money and foreign players, it's about passion and me leaping over the seats of the Derry with my arms spread wide to the dayglo filth as they disperse back to Angus in their droves. That'll do me. It really fucking will.
Arbroath away fucking lovely day out. Prime time to slap someone over the pus with a smokie too if anyone pipes up. Dunfermline brides. Inverness scenery. Greenock heroin. Alloa... That's enough.
Fucking c'mon Dunde, let's tear these animals apart this year. No mercy, but many merci's.
Thank you very much.