He'd do all the prep, all the technical stuff, then drop it onto the floor when faced with the slight updraft from opening the oven door.

Went to see it in Stockport at weekend. My dad described it as "the saddest ending to a film since Old Yeller."

Refuse to believe there's a wall big enough to have that fat cunt McKennie's shirt on it

Who decorated that? Tommy Fucking Robinson?

A role tailor made for the lad.

Man behind the wall? Stops 0 goals ever, looks stupid - ALWAYS DO.

Man on the post at corners? Stops many goals and prevents left back bullet heading into his own net - NEVER DO.

There's an Ulster flag dangling over the bridge near the height. Fucking morons can't even do performative patriotism right.

Hey, cut them some slack. They nearly had a shot on that power play.

It's the total lack of urgency and intensity that I'm enjoying most.

Did you predict Rat Bastard to score in OT? I did. It was written in the fucking stars.