NUFC win away! United show class and grit as the Villains are downed

Joy of Joy’s! Oh what fun it is to see Newcastle win away – Oh! Thank you very much for three points Villa, thank you very much, thank you very, very, very much. Are you watching Big Fat Ron? You’re not laughing anymore! So many great songs over the years savoured in victory over the claret and blues of Aston, so little time. Aston Villa, sounds like a classy apartment on the Mediterranean – in reality it is a God forsaken hell hole, a filthy skid mark of place, bleak and full of urban decay. So much so if there was a dental practitioner to repair said decay, there in its place would be a full new set of veneers. No doubt about it, you wipe your feet on the way out of Aston.

On a night of tension and drama in the battle for survival Newcastle United actually did not fluff their lines – for once, just. A first victory on the road was long overdue, but never the less we are grateful. After all beggars cannot be choosers. No doubt the biggest winners of the night will be all underpants retailers in the Newcastle region, as the squeaky bum-ness of the whole occasion may have gotten the better of several nervous watchers. I nearly blew a hole in my Y-Fronts with joy as Cabayes worldy flew in the old onion bag. That’s front and back! But in the circumstances I would happily soil myself on a twice weekly basis in the name of Newcastle climbing the league. Be honest now, who would not make that sacrifice? Ok, maybe not for everyone, but who cares I am overjoyed at the 3 points.

All the sweeter that it was against fellow strugglers, led by a man who to the English ear is almost unfathomable. His sour face and Glaswegian drawl will no doubt get him far in the game, just needs to top up on the ruddy-purple nose if he wants guaranteed success and potential Knighthood! The fact he prowls the touchline in his country’s national costume of shell suit and trainers makes me smile, leaping up and down like a drunk with rubber arms and legs attempting to climb a moving ladder. If you listen carefully he is not barking instructions, merely shouting “MAGGIE!” repeatedly.

For some of our new die hards to start or at least play some part in this game after only being at the club one week, speaks volumes for the character and fitness of the players newly arrived. First half was a breeze, second not so, the Villains waking from a slumber – surely after a severe scudding from Lambert. And did you ever doubt that we would concede just to raise our blood pressure and pulse to dangerous levels? However the penalty was very dubious, seems the ref was feeling sorry for them. The timing terrible, forty one minutes of dodging a possible coronary. But at the end of the day the mighty black and whites go home triumphant, and the fans also taking an extra glow from the small sliver of chilled sweet revenge taken.

The foreign legion did their bit and battled it out. A message loud and clear from “Le Toon army” should be – regardless of race, colour, nationality or creed, we will welcome you with open arms as long as you wear the shirt with pride, give it your all and ultimately win football matches. Ideally I would like to see more British if not even local lads in the team, but the problem is that the game has changed (not necessarily for the better) it’s global. All bollocks really, global bollocks. As Oz from Auf Wiedersehen Pet would say – “Double bollocks!”. Never the less our platoon of foreign dragoons brought home the bacon against the Villa in a fixture that was barbed, and had more potential pitfalls in it than the ill-fated Gary Glitter home for vulnerable children in Jersey.

Sissoko had been talked about, but until you see them with your own eyes you never know – but looks a hell of a player. Pace, power, touch and an eye for a pass. Could Mr. Carr really have bagged the “new Vieira” for 1.5m? One of the resident, old guard foreign contingent in Papiss Demba Cisse on the score-sheet too, getting us on our way from Sissokos expert pass, happy days! We need to get him firing on all cylinders once more.

Auf Wiedersehen Villa, bonjour 3 points

Auf Wiedersehen Villa, bonjour 3 points

Villa has been a relative happy hunting ground over the course of our time in the PL. In our last 21 visits we have won seven (including Tonight)so a 33% or a win every 3rd visit is pretty damn good regardless of just how utterly shite the opposition is. Let us cross fingers, toes, legs, eyes whatever and hope that this is the springboard that rockets NUFC back up the league to a position of relative safety, preferably ahead of the great unwashed. So here is hoping we take some fight and flair in against another team full of foreigners, the gold gilded powder puffs of West London – Chelski. They are very dangerous on away soil, away from the poisonous atmosphere at their own home games, the venom produced by the home “support” and reserved to rasp at the “fat Spanish waiter” Benitez. Let’s turn them over too, and while we are at it slip the ball boys some knuckle dusters – just in case! Until then friends. HTL




NUFC, the danger that lurks in the Midlands

Well here we are, living the life of a yo-yo, or the flea resting on the fiddlers elbow. We are back on the rollercoaster that once admitted you can’t get off. It’s a bit like Broadmoor, or the Scientologists, once you’re in you aren’t getting out. Unless you decide to wear that wooden overcoat you have been avoiding and turn to pushing up daisies. So are we on an up or a down? Easy to say down, probably just as easy to say up as we the fans (myself included) are intoxicated on the heady fumes of transfer frenzy. The air this week has been filled with the pheromones of bristling Magpies, and it has been as easy as left follows right to slide hurtling deep into this heavenly and self-prescribed opiate. But, is this the calm before the storm?

Can the Mags heap more misery on the Villa?

Can the Mags heap more misery on the Villa?

As we have all deliberated, Reading was a must win game, which somehow we confounded to lose. So is Villa the next must win game, or the next must not LOSE? There is no doubt about it, Villa are an absolute shambles and the confidence of their young bucks must be lower than a pythons posing pouch. But, on the flipside NUFC have been absolutely shocking away from home this season, no wins at all including Europa League failures on the road – they do not fill me with any confidence. NUFC are the only PL club not to have won on the road! Villa have recently turned in a 0-3 away victory at Anfield, a feat not achieved by the mighty toon for over two decades.

To me this is the quandary, the nightmare that lurks. The kind of nightmare where you wipe your steamed mirror to reveal Glenn Close boiling a bunny, but under closer inspection it’s not the 80’s psychotic blonde bombshell, but Niall Quinn in a basque and blonde wig clutching a bottle of rohypnol, the pupils in his come to bed eyes oscillating like Brownian motion. This game has the chance to right royally shaft NUFC. It could feasibly dry hump the be-Jesus out of our new found confidence.

To wake us from our nightmare season Ebenezer Ashley has after several pleas from Alan Crotchet Pardew tossed his lowly subordinate some more coal for the fire. These 5 burning embers need to ignite a team that seemed to have been quenched after burning so fiercely last season. The 5 Legionnaires of French origin by birth dare not fail on their first outing. Will Pardew start them? I hope so, he must. How the Southern hacks will roll around laughing, smearing themselves in their packed lunches of jellied eels should Newcastle’s all or bust tactic falter at the first hurdle.

To make matters worse a French outcast with dubious mentality, plenty of talent and an axe to grind against his former employers has a penchant for saving his best for the hands that formerly fed – Charles N’Zogbia. How many times have we succumbed to the sword of former swashbuckling mags? The list is endless. Please do not let this be the case on Tuesday night. If there is a God of football, let him smile on Newcastle United on a ground where the natives revelled in our misery in 2008 upon our public humiliation and meek submission to the Championship. There is a famous football song in the Midlands sang by the Blue noses called “Shit on the Villa” – I for one hope we drop a huge pile of steaming Geordie manure on their heads – they are owed one. Come end of 90 minutes on Tuesday night; let it be Newcastle laughing at the demise of another big club being ran poorly by a skin flint billionaire. The similarities are too close to home. Prediction – away win and a clean sheet. Put it this way in the words of Special K – “I would fucking love it if we beat them”.

NUFC, shock, awe and the French Connection.

So the silly season is here. And for once it seems NUFC have been caught up in all the sillyness. So much so that the shackles have been removed from Mike Ashleys Wallet.  In my head I have got images of a wallet the size of a whale lashed to the floor with guy ropes and wooden pins – keeping its cargo door from flipping open and squashing a number of poor unfortunate serfs beneath it.

Fashioned from the leather of 100 unfortunate beasts, it groans as rope by rope is released sharply from its tether by a sharpened blade in the hands of a biblically dressed Pardew. The release is a mixture of the noise of a whip cracking and the springing boing only a mouth harp can replicate.

Finally it opens. I am in shock, I think we are all in shock. The timing of it could even be the route cause of the earth quake measured by scientists in Birmingham – 3.2 on the Richter scale! That is small on that particular scale, but to the thousands of NUFC fans seemingly resigned to another transfer window of doom, the shocks were seismic and the aftershocks are still being felt.
Not one signing, not two, nor three, four or five – but conceivably six if you are to believe everything being written. Are we rejoicing in the streets? No we are not. There is still a sense of disappointment that this was not looked at in the summer, a move which would have hopefully prevented this fall into our perilous position. There is also the disappointment that all these guys are French and are untried and no matter how good they appear on paper – gambles. Not all foreign imports are instant successes, look no further than our very own Captain Colo and young Davide Santon. We with fingers crossed and breath baited hope this belated gamble works and that they hit the ground running. They need to.
At least we can now (maybe) escape the circus and hullabaloo of Transfer Deadline Day. I say maybe as I for one will probably end up watching it, if only for the ever increasingly ridiculous Jim White. The Scot after last year can feasibly only top his entrance into the studio in a couple of ways. The first , I have discounted, is to be lowered into the studio on a stage with dancing girls and the exhumed corpse of James Brown dancing in a soul style donned in the garb of Apollo Creed from Rocky IV. The option I can see him being suitable for is being wheeled into the studio shackled in orange boiler suit, and masked like Hannibal Lecter. After all on these manic occasions he is regularly seen to froth at the mouth like a hydrophobic camel eating sherbert flying saucers. Perfect.

The preposterous nature of the whole occasion will hopefully this time not be the stage of last minute sales of our best players, and surely not an occasion where we sit gazing at the screen as the clock marches towards the deadline only to end up signing Antoine Sibierski’s Sister. No offence to Gerty. No, done and out of the way nice early and settled will do me. Even if we are a window late, lets get behind them and pray to the Geordie Gods these gifts are not false idols.

As in every January, it is historically a notoriously difficult time to land true bargains and not the dross you would find in a Sports Direct Bargain Bin on Boxing day. Will we be taking home a fine piece of objet d’art, or the Jive Bunny Mega mix cassette your Mam bought with Green shield stamps in 1985? Only one way to find out! I for one cannot knock this gamble, it was a necessity. Let’s hope the notorious casino high rollers hit the jackpot.