B-more Mag

THE WELSH ROCK!

We're all going to end up schizophrenic by the end of this season.

Oh yeah meme.

What do we call the fizzy-pop league now that it's the n-power Championship?

Not everything's coming up Milhouse.

My irrational blind faith tells me Swansea are going to buck the odds and win.

How utterly pathetic that we're in a position where we can't be confident that we'll win against a club with a grand total of four wins and 29 goals from 36 games. Ridiculousness.

I've just flipped on irrational blind faith mode.

The damn hope creeped in again. Stop it, hope.

It's startling how few of our players I'd want to see wear the shirt again, if we get relegated (or if we stay up, for that matter).

Not sure we need 1-7 anymore. Could could probably get away with "Fuck you, Pardew," "I'm going to fuck your wife, Pardew," and "God help you, Pardew, for I will spend every living breath hunting you down for that one sweet moment when I first feel the warmth of your blood on my hands." Or something like that.

Our goal difference now compared to Norwich and Wigan.

Seriously, Allardyce, the skinny part is longer than the wide part.

Oh four minutes. Super.

I need better arteries.

Allardyce stole that tie from a midget?

Noose.

Gosling! You couldn't make this shit up. I mean you can, because we're doing it. But you shouldn't.

MOTHERFUCKING MOTHERFUCKER!

And this is why we should never ever hope.

Blurry Shadow One passes to Blurry Shadow Two.

Get off here and pay attention to the game, Alan!

Can't figure out whether this is a jinx or a reverse jinx.

Motherfucker.

That was a goal!