attila
1997 Club
Schadenfreude: noun. Malicious pleasure in the misfortunes of others.
19c: German. From Schade - hurt and Freude - joy (Chambers 21st Century Dictionary)
Remember Paul Hardcastle’s crap disco hit ‘N-n-n-n-nineteen..?’
N-N-N-N-NINE NIL (The Selhurst Park Remix!)
Tuesday September 8th 1989 began like any other day in the footballing calendar, with newly-discovered Team of the 80s, Crystal Palace, travelling to Anfield to test their Colditz-like defensive qualities and mesmerising attacking skills against the sacrificial lemmings of Liverpool. Now football is a funny game, as the utterly retarded cliche goes, and on this particular evening it proved to be a very funny game indeed, in fact a positively hilarious, side-splittingly humourous one, even more mirth-inducing than David Beckham trying to define existentialism or Michael Portillo attempting coitus with a paper-shredding machine. For while Palace’s much-feared rivals Brighton and Hove Albion were thrashing Wolverhampton Wanderers 4-2, at Anfield the final score was Liverpool 9, Crystal Palace 0. Liverpool 9, Crystal Palace 0. N-n-n-n-nine nil, nine nil. N-n-n-n-nine nil, nine nil. And following those fateful n-n-n-n-ninety minutes on that hilarious Tuesday night the hapless halibuts from Selhurst Park were subjected to fierce and merciless ridicule from the rest of the football world and many of them are still living out their experiences to this day. Even now the South London branch of the Samaritans receive mysterious phone calls where the only audible sounds are donkey-like voices braying bewilderedly ‘Nine nil. N-n-n-n-nine nil. Ee-aw! Nine nil. N-n-n-n-nine nil. Ee-aw! And when the Palace players got home, obviously in need of moral support and counselling following their torrid n-n-n-n-nine nil experience, none of them received a hero’s welcome. None of them. None of them received a hero’s welcome. N-n-n-n-none of them. The long term effects of such an unbelievable n-n-n-n-nine nil annihilation are hard to predict, but it seems likely that many of the Crystal Palace squad may have been be so demoralised that they may have been forced to leave professional football and sign on. S-s-s-s-sign on. Sign on. S-s-s-s-sign on. S-s-s-s-sign on, sign on. S-s-s-s-sign on, sign on. A worse fate even than this may well have befallen the Palace goalkeeper Perry Suckling, a man who, rather like the Queen Mother, wore gloves for no apparent reason, for his intense feelings of humiliation may well have led him to emigrate, and sign on in Vietnam. V-v-v-v-Vietnam. S-s-s-s-sign on. V-v-v-v-Vietnam. S-s-s-s-sign on...........
(repeat ad nauseam)
19c: German. From Schade - hurt and Freude - joy (Chambers 21st Century Dictionary)
Remember Paul Hardcastle’s crap disco hit ‘N-n-n-n-nineteen..?’
N-N-N-N-NINE NIL (The Selhurst Park Remix!)
Tuesday September 8th 1989 began like any other day in the footballing calendar, with newly-discovered Team of the 80s, Crystal Palace, travelling to Anfield to test their Colditz-like defensive qualities and mesmerising attacking skills against the sacrificial lemmings of Liverpool. Now football is a funny game, as the utterly retarded cliche goes, and on this particular evening it proved to be a very funny game indeed, in fact a positively hilarious, side-splittingly humourous one, even more mirth-inducing than David Beckham trying to define existentialism or Michael Portillo attempting coitus with a paper-shredding machine. For while Palace’s much-feared rivals Brighton and Hove Albion were thrashing Wolverhampton Wanderers 4-2, at Anfield the final score was Liverpool 9, Crystal Palace 0. Liverpool 9, Crystal Palace 0. N-n-n-n-nine nil, nine nil. N-n-n-n-nine nil, nine nil. And following those fateful n-n-n-n-ninety minutes on that hilarious Tuesday night the hapless halibuts from Selhurst Park were subjected to fierce and merciless ridicule from the rest of the football world and many of them are still living out their experiences to this day. Even now the South London branch of the Samaritans receive mysterious phone calls where the only audible sounds are donkey-like voices braying bewilderedly ‘Nine nil. N-n-n-n-nine nil. Ee-aw! Nine nil. N-n-n-n-nine nil. Ee-aw! And when the Palace players got home, obviously in need of moral support and counselling following their torrid n-n-n-n-nine nil experience, none of them received a hero’s welcome. None of them. None of them received a hero’s welcome. N-n-n-n-none of them. The long term effects of such an unbelievable n-n-n-n-nine nil annihilation are hard to predict, but it seems likely that many of the Crystal Palace squad may have been be so demoralised that they may have been forced to leave professional football and sign on. S-s-s-s-sign on. Sign on. S-s-s-s-sign on. S-s-s-s-sign on, sign on. S-s-s-s-sign on, sign on. A worse fate even than this may well have befallen the Palace goalkeeper Perry Suckling, a man who, rather like the Queen Mother, wore gloves for no apparent reason, for his intense feelings of humiliation may well have led him to emigrate, and sign on in Vietnam. V-v-v-v-Vietnam. S-s-s-s-sign on. V-v-v-v-Vietnam. S-s-s-s-sign on...........
(repeat ad nauseam)
