Irish soccerball nil - That boy Bazunu will save us (Part 1) 🐐

[anon78624367]

Why did you come back to the failed state as you put it?

[Halfpipe]

The rugby crowd have really lost the plot if they are categorizing McGrath as an Englishman. If that is the case then at least Irish soccers record scorer is Irish as are their 3 most capped players of all time, neither of which is the case for Irish rugby.

[GeoffreyBoycott]

I met a Waterford woman.

[Fagan_ODowd]

@GeoffreyBoycott

I read that particular piece of information about Eire before the 2014 World Cup. Both of the two new participants in 2018, Panama and Iceland had squad members from their domestic leagues.

Wales had any number of players in their squad on their lone appearance in 1958 playing for Cardiff City and Swansea City including two of their top players Ivor Allchurch and Mel Charles.

I took the liberty of looking up the position pertaining to Canada. Canada’s goalkeeper for their opening match against France at the 1986 World Cup, their lone World Cup appearance, Paul Dolan was playing for the Edmonton Brickmen.

Geoff, Canada played in the 1986 World Cup. The Canadian Soccer League wasn’t founded until 1987. From 1985 until 1987 the Edmonton Brickmen played in a challenge series against teams in the Western Soccer Challenge Series.

[Enrique]

Another masterclass from @GeoffreyBoycott. I don’t know how he does it.

[Fagan_ODowd]

@GeoffreyBoycott

I cleared that up. Canada goalkeeper in the 1986 World Cup, Paul Dolan was playing for some crowd in Edmonton with a funny name. Canada is also incorrect.

See above Geoff.

[Enrique]

So he only played domestically then. That doesn’t contradict what he said.

[GeoffreyBoycott]

I’m weary of soccer at this stage mate. I got asked earlier was I going to the Waterford Football Final on Sunday. It’s beginning to sound like an attractive proposition at this stage.

[Fagan_ODowd]

@Enrique

So he only played domestically then. That doesn’t contradict what he said.

It does. He specifically referred to a domestic league

[Fagan_ODowd]

@GeoffreyBoycott

I’m weary of soccer at this stage mate. I got asked earlier was I going to the Waterford Football Final on Sunday. It’s beginning to sound like an attractive proposition at this stage.

I’d say you are alright

[flattythehurdler]

@peddlerscross

I wasn’t in Lille, but as a friend who was there told me, “I went to heaven that night”.

Fucking hell.

[Enrique]

The point he was making was referring to players playing domestically (in whatever the prevailing competition is) or in a foreign country, normally a foreign league. His point stands.

[PhattPike]

Outstanding internetting all round here. @GeoffreyBoycott playing a blinder.

[Tank]

VERY BORING SHORT STORY THAT YOU ARE UNDER NO OBLIGATION TO READ ABOUT HOW I IMAGINE @GEOFFREYBOYCOTT TO BE

@GeoffreyBoycott was the only man in the village who wore a suit everyday. The Carlow locals smiled and wished him good morning when they saw him walking to his law office. They felt charmed when he smiled and greeted them back. Mr. Boycott seemed always to be smiling. The Carlow people were secretly very pleased to have such a well-dressed gentleman living amongst them. It seemed to give the place a bit of a lift. He usually wore pinstripe and his tie was perfectly tidy.

He was a man in his mid forties, not quite handsome but still trim. Mr. Boycott’s image of perfect professionalism was completed by his sharp English accent, a remnant of many years spent in London long ago. This was enough to guarantee that he was held in complete reverence by the village people. Although Mr. Boycott had lost his Carlow brogue during his time across the water, he had kept the Irish twinkle in his eye.

Mr. Boycott was both the village’s solicitor and accountant. The village people occasionally speculated to each other on whether such a talented man would eventually be drawn into politics.

Mrs. O’Toole was a simple Carlow farmer woman. She was a widow of 75 who loved alone on her tiny 10 acre farm. She had three grown up children, only one of whom, Sinead, still lived locally. She scraped a hand-to-mouth existence together. A kindly woman of few words, she took great pride in her independence and the hand-to-mouth existence which she scraped from her fields. Her chief social outlet was the vigil mass on Saturday evenings.

One day Mrs. O’Toole visited Mr. Boycott in the village to see about making a will. Mr. Boycott smiled greeted her warmly and she had great trust in this kindly English man. He reminded her of the big landlords of rural Carlow when she was a little girl. He was very respectful to her and listened to everything she said very carefully.

“So I’d like to leave my first field to Sinead and my second field to Patrick and my third field to John and my first field to Patrick,” said Mrs. O’Toole. Suddenly she was unsure about what she had said. Did she want to leave the first field to Sinead or Patrick? And what about her husband Willie? Oh, Willie was dead.

Mr. Boycott’s smile suddenly developed a slightly hungry edge and he seemed to recoil backwards, like a cobra getting ready to strike.

“You said you want to leave your first field to me?” he asked.

“No, that’s not what I said, I said to Patrick and Willie…” she trailed off and tried to remember. Wills were so confusing.

“Oh but that is what you said Mrs. O’Toole” sneered @GeoffreyBoycott. “You remember your exact words, don’t you?”

When Mrs. O’Toole looked at @GeoffreyBoycott, she felt ashamed and small. This was so awful to be judged by him, how she just wanted this entire nasty experience to be over. Mr. Boycott, with a smile reminiscent of a tiger, edged Mrs. O’Toole’s will across the desk to her. Mrs. O’Toole really didn’t know what she had done wrong anymore. He was just so condescending and nasty to her. Maybe she should just sign this document so she could go home. She picked up the pen, squinted at the page and signed her name.

The next morning @GeoffreyBoycott walked to his office dressed very smartly in his pinstripe suit and tie. The locals he passed smiled warmly and wished him good morning, entirely unaware that he was a spoofer cunt fraud.

THE END

[Little_Lord_Fauntleroy]

Genius

[Tassotti]

he has them hopping like sausages in a frying pan

[PhattPike]

I’d say it’s all hands on deck at the offices of The Wikimedia Foundation in San Fran as they try to cope with the extra load on the servers this morning.

[Ashman]

He is the Archbishop of Banterbury .

[HBV]

No cunt will read that. Did you remember to include the bit about halfwits in china and Australia asking you about Robbie keane?

[Tank]

Maybe I’ll put that in another story.