pasty
A different kind of pasty
Easy 10 said:
Thats just one of the reasons we should have an English manager. How can a Swede get passionate about England winning a game of football.
Probably the BEST pre-match statement of the entire campaign...
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Thats just one of the reasons we should have an English manager. How can a Swede get passionate about England winning a game of football.
Franks Wild Years
New member
We will fight them in the tunnel, we will fight them on the pitches, we wil never surrender. Never in the field of human bull has so much been spouted to so many by so few.
(Good speech though,lets hope he can do the same on the pitch)
(Good speech though,lets hope he can do the same on the pitch)
Scarface
New member
http://www.weathersa.co.za/Commander said:
Currently between 13 and 23 degrees. Isnt the one after next in the Americas before the new rotation gets back to asia in 2018?
Mr Banana
Tedious chump
Credit to Gary Neville that such a blustering, Churchillian rant can smash all previous attempts to tease coherant literacy (with the possible exception of Joe Cole) from the squad.
In a very non-English way, I just want Neville and everyone else to desist from such empty blatherings immediately. We won't take Northern Ireland lightly, you'll see an improvement in our performance against Trinidad, and the ultimate folly - that somehow we can rattle Ronaldinho and Ronaldo by putting eleven good players out and talking louder and prouder than anyone else. I dream of our bunch of frauds spending less time swivelling gallantly in the media centre and more time thinking about how they can actually implement the sort of guile they need to beat the technically superior sides we will face from now on.
But then I realise that actually there's something genuinely essential about this sort of tosh. The truth is that we don't want to win, we just want to be the nation that built ourselves up the most, lost most heroically and were most heartbroken by our failure to act upon our words. The team symbolises those days when you get up in the morning and visualise all that you could achieve over the course of the day, before failing miserably to capitalise on your shimmering potential. Or when you go to bed promising that tomorrow, TOMORROW you will rewrite the horrors of today. England are the tomorrow team. We know what we can do tomorrow. Our diet is always tomorrow. For now we wear our flag, sing songs to Honda adverts and have a tear in our eye.
Or maybe a few words from a gormless Mancunian gobshite really will save us from another single goal tragedy. Either way it's all very entertaining, and there'll be heroes and villains for us to hang our comfort hats on.
In a very non-English way, I just want Neville and everyone else to desist from such empty blatherings immediately. We won't take Northern Ireland lightly, you'll see an improvement in our performance against Trinidad, and the ultimate folly - that somehow we can rattle Ronaldinho and Ronaldo by putting eleven good players out and talking louder and prouder than anyone else. I dream of our bunch of frauds spending less time swivelling gallantly in the media centre and more time thinking about how they can actually implement the sort of guile they need to beat the technically superior sides we will face from now on.
But then I realise that actually there's something genuinely essential about this sort of tosh. The truth is that we don't want to win, we just want to be the nation that built ourselves up the most, lost most heroically and were most heartbroken by our failure to act upon our words. The team symbolises those days when you get up in the morning and visualise all that you could achieve over the course of the day, before failing miserably to capitalise on your shimmering potential. Or when you go to bed promising that tomorrow, TOMORROW you will rewrite the horrors of today. England are the tomorrow team. We know what we can do tomorrow. Our diet is always tomorrow. For now we wear our flag, sing songs to Honda adverts and have a tear in our eye.
Or maybe a few words from a gormless Mancunian gobshite really will save us from another single goal tragedy. Either way it's all very entertaining, and there'll be heroes and villains for us to hang our comfort hats on.
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Parson Henry
New member
The Large One
Who's Next?
http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/football/world_cup_2006/teams/england/5130880.stmIcy Gull said:Where is this quote from, is this an EASY 10 rallying call dressed up as Neville?
Barrel of Fun
Abort, retry, fail
"I am Barrel of Fun. And I see an army of my countrymen,
here in defiance of tyranny! You have come to fight as free men. And free man you are! What will you do without freedom? Will you fight?"
"11 men against 11?"
"No! We will run - and live!"
"Yes! Fight and you may die. Run and you will live at least awhile. And dying in your bed many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days from this day to that for one chance, just one cahnce, to come back here as young men and tell our enemies that they may take our lives but they will never take our semi-final spot!!"
here in defiance of tyranny! You have come to fight as free men. And free man you are! What will you do without freedom? Will you fight?"
"11 men against 11?"
"No! We will run - and live!"
"Yes! Fight and you may die. Run and you will live at least awhile. And dying in your bed many years from now, would you be willing to trade all the days from this day to that for one chance, just one cahnce, to come back here as young men and tell our enemies that they may take our lives but they will never take our semi-final spot!!"
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The Large One
Who's Next?
Actually, I remember Gary Neville being a pundit for ITV during the 2002 World Cup, and I thought he came across very coherent, intelligent and thoughtful, and his insights were very interesting.
Far better than the usual grunts you normally get from footballers.
Far better than the usual grunts you normally get from footballers.
Dandyman
In London village.
Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!
Or close the wall up with our English dead.
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility:
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger;
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood,
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage;
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect;
Let pry through the portage of the head
Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it
As fearfully as doth a galled rock
O'erhang and jutty his confounded base,
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean.
Now set the teeth and stretch the nostril wide,
Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit
To his full height. On, on, you noblest English.
Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!
Fathers that, like so many Alexanders,
Have in these parts from morn till even fought
And sheathed their swords for lack of argument:
Dishonour not your mothers; now attest
That those whom you call'd fathers did beget you.
Be copy now to men of grosser blood,
And teach them how to war. And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;
For there is none of you so mean and base,
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:
Follow your spirit, and upon this charge
Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!