A Week In Football : ABU LOL | Manchester United News

A Week In Football : ABU LOL

A Week In Football : ABU LOL

Despite being very old I still manage to use Twitter and to a lesser extent Crapbook. I also manage to send and receive e-mails and text messages. My main annoyance with all of these mediums is the use of abbreviations, acronyms and emoticons, although sometimes I may use “FRO” or “YSW”. How many people that type “LOL” are actually laughing out loud, and to be honest (TBH) who fucking cares? And those that are actually “PMSL” would be better spending their time practising pelvic floor exercises than broadcasting their incontinence to the whole world. It may be an urban myth, but the only time LOL has entertained me is when a mother misunderstood the abbreviation. She allegedly thought it meant “lots of love” and sent this text to her son, “Hi Love, sorry to have to tell you like this but your Nan died last night. LOL”

In the days since the Manchester derby I have seen lots of tweets littered with “LOL” and “PMSL” and even occasionally “lololololo” or “looool”, although I can only assume they were typed by extreme window lickers as they make no sense whatsoever. Laugh out out out out out loud??? This brings me smoothly onto one of my other hates; ABU’s or “Anyone But United” people. I can understand the bitters revelling in their dismantling of United and I can assure you all had the boot been on the other foot (or had Phil Jones booted David Silva off the pitch) I would certainly have enjoyed telling the world about our greatness. I actually haven’t had much grief from Citeh fans, the ones that I come into contact with have been very gracious in victory; instead I have had more taunting from fans of other clubs. I even had a Leeds United fan, immediately after their 0-5 bumming by Blackpool, tweeting me asking if I had a sick swan. Of course I don’t own any swans at all, they are viscous creatures that can break your arm with a flap of their wings. The poor retard didn’t even realise what he was doing, making himself look like the kind of weapon that is more concerned about revelling in the misfortune of Manchester United than the utter shite that his own team has served up.

In my younger years I worked in a village pub in Worcestershire (any ABU’s reading this have just ejaculated with absolute glee in the knowledge that I am not from Manchester) and most of the locals were at least three years older than me, thus meaning that they were all of course Liverpool fans. Clearly not enamoured by the standing of Worcester City, they had chosen the dark side. Every Saturday in the days BS (Before Sky) we used to have the teletext on and were all literally glued (not actually literally, that would have been silly) to the screen. If ANY team scored against United there was a huge cheer from the bar, no matter how the scousers were doing. By full time it didn’t matter how Liverpool had got on, as long as United had failed to win they were happy. I even remember Liverpool getting battered one afternoon, yet they all left content in the knowledge that United had drawn. In 1999, I went to said pub as a customer to watch the final day shootout between United and Arsenal. I got waylaid on the way and walked into the pub just as Spurs scored, the roar of delight was deafening and the abuse I got would have made Chubby Brown blush. Of course, United went on to win the game and the title, and Liverpool finished in the heady position of 7th. A few days later was the FA Cup Final and the bar was curiously flooded with “Geordies for the day”. Again United were victorious and I enjoyed celebrating their success, alone.

The defining moment of that season was the Champions League Final, and yet again the pub was full. I was working that night so I was at the mercy of all their ridicule as Basler struck the opening goal. I couldn’t quite understand how so many people had gone out of their way to go to the pub to watch a team they hated contest the Champions League Final; there was even a Citeh fan in attendance. I was resigned to defeat as the clock ticked on and had begun drinking heavily to blot out the pain. This was working nicely and I had even begun to insult the customers (something which I was known to do from time to time) when the incredible happened. As Ted poked the first goal home there was an audible gasp, followed by a wealth of cussing. Yet the undercurrent was of disguised joy because all those that were allowed out only to watch the football thought they were going to get an extra 30 minutes drinking time. I was just pouring myself another Kronenbourg to settle my nerves when Ole put the ball in the Germans’ net. The pub literally emptied in the same way it did almost a year earlier when England had crashed out of the World Cup against Argentina. The only person left in the bar? The Citeh fan. He was absolutely chuffed to bits, viewing the result as a victory for Manchester. We sat together and enjoyed a very large single malt whisky. I nearly spewed, he “lol’d”.

I have always encountered this kind of abuse. I once started a job and when being introduced to the warehouse staff my new line manager introduced me as “a fucking United fan”. Cue hoots of derision and abuse from all the West Brom and Wolves fans. Even though United were streets ahead of everyone that season, when they did get an unfavourable result all the warehouse guys were waiting for me on a Monday morning, crowing about how crap United were. This despite the fact their teams were playing in the Haribo Reserves League at the time. The week after the derby my boys were attending a football camp at their school and on the day they went in their United shirts I equipped them with some retorts to the abuse they were sure to get. If a Liverpool fan said anything they were merely to count audibly up to 19 and then walk away. If the perpetrator was a Citeh fan they were to ask why their fans dressed as plastic seats and so on.

So in summary, any ABU’s can FRO and spend their time constructively supporting their own club rather than use up energy hating United. Also, if you are a “lol’er” or someone that pisses themselves laughing, perhaps try not advertising those facts to the virtual world.

In other news, poor old John Terry has done it again, allegedly abusing the other Ferdinand during Chelsea’s defeat. Curiously, some people are defending his honour claiming that Terry isn’t a racist, probably basing this on the fact that he plays with Cole, Drogba, Anelka et al. He may or may not be a racist, but he surely is a vile, repugnant, shit-eating thug who would do a poo on his grandmother if he thought it would result in any kind of payment. At the same time Suarez is facing the same allegations; what a shame he isn’t facing some alligators instead, a dozen angry alligators in a small room with a locked door. That would be a real battle of the teeth. Carlos Tevez, meanwhile, has apparently been handed an olive branch by Rupert (scarf reference) Mancini. This is quite a backtrack from a few weeks ago when Mancini claimed that Kettleneck would never play for the club again, and I am sure that there is no truth in the rumour that Mancini wants to use him solely for sprinting practice. Cruel rumourmongers have alleged that to assist the Citeh players in their speed work he wants to tie raw meat to their shorts and let Tevez try and chase them down.

And what of our old friend Dobbin van Horsie? He has been banging the goals in all over the shop; he even treated us to a hat-trick against Chelsea, leading John Terry to call him a “clog-wearing edam guzzler”. How has he managed to stay off the treatment table? Well, Arsenal have simply hit upon a winning formula. They are using spare parts off other players to keep him healthy. You may have wondered why Arse-Shaving is so poor recently, or why Chamakh rarely plays. They have simply been butchered for body parts and are now just shadows of their former selves. The club loaned Bendtner in the summer as there was sadly nothing they could harvest from him.


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