Sandman’s Definitive Ratings – Champions v Coronation Chickens

SANDMAN’S DEFINITIVE RATINGS: CHAMPIONS v CORONATION CHICKENS…

‘The Coronation service begins with Samuel Strachan welcoming King Charles to Westminster Abbey with the words “Your Majesty, as children of the kingdom of God we welcome you in the name of the King of Kings.”

– Royal Bootlicker drag queen affirms the recognition of Henrik Larsson as Ghod himself.

ROXIE – 6.5/10 – Total command of his box, and the crowd. Nothing unfocusses Big Joe on title day and he was damn sure his defence was going to be on their toes as a siege emerged. Done with a smile because he knows he’s landed in nirvana in the twilight of his illustrious career.

GREGGS THE BAKER – 7/10 – The industry’s back and clicking once more. The hardest-working Hoop has managed to align his mojo with his go-jo, whatever the hell that means…But we’re seeing his tireless baker’s endeavour translate towards meaningful end-product once more after that troubling injury upset his pastry-skills.

STAR LORD – 7.5/10 – As Guardians Of The Glaxy 3 blows minds and emotions with its heroism and heartache, our Star Lord revels in the entertainment and also the responsibility of forging a new defensive partnership. He took it upon himself to guide his cohort through a rocky start with some exquisite defensive timing; reading of the game becoming evident as his true forte. They’ll think they can prey upon him next Saturday but those rancid vultures may be in for a shock. Rocket Racoon salutes you.

MR.KOBAYASHI – 5.5/10 – So in he came, big big boots to fill, looking cool but completely flustered at the same time; a Japanese speciality…Settled into some competence after a first 45 of overtly deliberate play which involved dallying on the ball and poor distribution. But, hey, that’ll be fine given the overall context, and a decent warm-up for next week’s journey into darkness.

TONY THE TIGER – 6.5/10 – Right in the faces of the wannabee orcs that were scattered about the poorly populated home stands like Satan had vomited up a lunch of apostates’ jizz. Not a ball thrown in the face could faze the Tiger from his mission to rattle the cages of the screeching monkeys and his disciplined performance closed down any onanist fantasies of theirs involving a comeback.

CALMAC – 8/10 MOTM – Victim of Bealebaw tactics by ‘shavedbaw’ Naisy, Calmac was wrangled by swarming macaroons for most of the first half. But you cannot defy the conductor for long when the orchestra’s tuned
and in he came with some perfectly-timed prompts to set up the ultimate victory; His turn-and-pop-it pass to put Reo in for Kyogo’s opener is probably the most erotic thing you’ll find on pornhub this week. Not that you’ll be looking. Or me…

Jamesy, take it from here…

THE BUILDER – 5.5/10 – Nah, Matty couldn’t get into it today. Probably sick of the sight of these replicants and their henchmen and knowing he will be venturing into the shadowlands next week; it seemed all to much for him to get to grips with.

HAKUNA HATATE – 7/10 – Floated around ineffective for the early part, like last Sunday, but by the hour mark this time he was sharpened and ready to let somebody feel the razor’s edge…That came with a perfectly-timed burst behind their lines, allied with a glance and swift cut to wrap up the title. Reo’s getting into it, folks, and the ring’s getting taken back to Mordor. Meltdown Saturday coming…

LORD KATSUMOTO – 7/10 – Whoosh! Too fast to track, too troublesome to trip…But tripped he was and teeth were gnashed knowing he was clean through; you’re not catching Daizen at that pelt onto that ball – trust me I know from Sunday League pursuit, the only option in such circumstances was a grappling hook and launcher. Crazily, those are now outlawed by the snowballing pansies in charge of the game and a clip of the heels was the only remedy to the Daizen-clean-through problem; red correctly called, eventually…Any objectors (yes, YOU, embittered, tearful Zombie interlopers…) watch big Nir Bitton getting blitzed by Bobby ‘St.Mirren, honest’ Madun
at the Reichstag back in ’21 after a mild grapple with ManBearPig somewhere out on the flaming wing. Anyway, Daizen’s consistent trouble when he’s in the mood, like today; and he’s our consistent trouble. Another honourable, incessant, enigmatic outing.

KILLER MUSHROOM – 7.5/10 – A point for every touch. And only took a half-touch of guile and genius to stab them in their soulless royalist hearts. Just as you were wondering when Oh was going to take the wee mhan’s place…Bam! There he was, seven touches, seventh goal against those degenerate tramps in their Zombie-hand-me-downs, fiftieth for the Hoops, 30 for the season, I think, too many flaming numbers…But there’s only one Kyogo.

NOTEBOOK – 6/10 – Last week’s match-winning magic evaded him, not for want of trying; nothing ran smoothly for him. But the Brazen Heid Begbie legacy played out in amazingly, cryptically metaphysical Trainspotting style as he wiped out archetypal snivelling Zombie-Jambo rat, ‘Walkawaysey’, in the avenging name of Broony. Karma.

SUBS –

OH BHOY – 7/10 – OH! HerOH! The bhoy likes an impact and we got a mirror of Kyogo’s first as he flew in to poke home the killer right in front of their rancid stained butcher’s apron behind the nets. Sweet. He certainly has an interesting and impressive stats kill-rate; able to take the vast percentage of clear chances that come his way in his short time on the park. Only that Motherwell snapped-heider miss stands out as the solitary one that got away.

ABADASS – N/A – A farewell? Back in the fold for the run-in, we shall see if it’s the desert-spider’s final scamper.

TONIO IWATAO – N/A – We humped the Minis 5-1 in Japanese passport poker when he got on.

MOOEY – 6/10 – Yul ‘Broad Black’ Brynner sidles on and sweeps through them with a sumptuous bit of pass-and-move to set-up Oh.

HACKY SACK – 6/10 – Those beguiling dancing feet of his were totally in tune with the baldy layabout Aussie baller to play his part in the second.

ANITA DOBSON – 10/10 – The Big Mhan. Magnificent. Magnanimous. Magic. Suited up for his coronation as True King. An Aussie-Greco fleckye to the slavering schizophrenic grotesqueries baying for our blood, before half-time
came and they had to get off to the pub to watch their ‘big team’ take on The Sheep. Nothing fazed Ange – he waited like a Great White for the sprats to expend their energy and luck and then got his bite in with a sharper, punishing second-half ask of his lads.

Now he’s a CHAMPION again and his hunger grows with the adoration of the fanbase of millions. Later, a Champions League plan to concoct; more immediately a trip to the Ninth Circle Of Hell and a guard of honour to amusingly request; and then a Cup final against Heelan’ throbbers who’ll be the only resistance in this legend’s quest to be a treble-winning Celtic manager. Good luck with that, ya monster-hiders.

MIBBERY – 1/10 – A surrender, of spectacular magnitude. Mr. C of The Shamen gets sent off after a VAR check; surely it was Bear-on-Bear incest then? No! It was against us! Little Nick could hardly believe it. Gollum coughed it up like a furball. We laughed at the charade, then laughed incredulously as the red came out. They’ve had enough, and they’ve finally taken the knee to the righteous Kings.

OVERALL – 2/10 – Because that’s where we are – 2 in a row, 8 to go. CHAMPIONS! And somewhere in-between might best summise a 6-7 rated total effort where the Gorgie festering menace rattled about us for the entire first-half and the Bhoys took a while to get it together. But they knew the score, managed the game, and left it at 2 and home and hosed for the justly-deserved honours.

CHAMPIONS! It might have appeared that a reasonable delay to our crowning was coming on this Slaver Empire Coronation weekend. But soon as the MIBs switched the Butcher’s Apron for the white flag, the Bhoys put the foot to the gas, took off the seatbelts – a fitting tribute to Diana – and smashed the final nails into Lizzie’s XI’s coffin.

CHAMPIONS! Ah, what a memorable, historical weekend it’s been. Capped at night by the ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ rendition in Charlie’s tax-funded concert, that left the entire Zombie establishment shuffling uneasily and gazing at their shoes as big bad and blind genius Andrea Bocelli belted it out so beautifully across the swathes of monarchist gimps. “That’s for the flaming 97 Reds and the Champion Hoops! Roon yeez imperialist dugs!” he bellowed out in archaic Tuscan lingo at the end, missed by many.

Now we look ahead to TEN once more, by my calculations just around 2030 as the Zombies choke on their new King Billy…Oh, the syzygy…

Go Away Now, CHAMPIONS

Sandman

About Author

The Celtic Star founder and editor, who has edited numerous Celtic books over the past decade or so including several from Lisbon Lions, Willie Wallace, Tommy Gemmell and Jim Craig. Earliest Celtic memories include a win over East Fife at Celtic Park and the 4-1 League Cup loss to Partick Thistle as a 6 year old. Best game? Easy 4-2, 1979 when Ten Men Won the League. Email editor@thecelticstar.co.uk

1 Comment