The foghorn sound of my snozzlers exploding once more erupts through the room. I have the plague, and I am dying. My throat is dry no more how much water is tossed down to it, my head aches no matter how many aspirins are taken, no matter how many walls it is banged against. And to top it all of my nose is rebelling and insisting on spurting a viscous, thick, green sludge out at high speed every minute or so. Little bastard. The very sound of my typing is disturbing by the occasional snot rocket and every tap of a button grinds another jigsaw of pain into my cranium. A growing bag of used tissues is at my feet, a loo roll at my side, as I lament at the current predicament I am in. Woe is me woe is me woe is me. The unending depression caused by my degraded position is made all the worse by the fact that this is a weekend. The only freetime I get, and I'm spending it bitching because I feel crap. Woopdedoo. Perfect for me to miss the game today.
Anyway, you probably don't want a self-pity ramble from me, so I'll try and direct my descriptive energies elsewhere, hohum. I could ramble about rambling in a ramblish kind of way. See? I suppose, I suppose, um, I typed that went away and lost my train of thought. Ah yes, I suppose I could talk about a game or something, extend my borders, reach out of the world of tissues and snot rockets. Good idea mate. Spot on. Right, so. Recently I downloaded the national association badges for Football Manager 08 (thanks to the lovely cgauld7) to replace the generic rounded flags, and they look good. They look really good, they give the game variation that looks good with the Flex skin and cut-out facepack. The game looks really really good. And so does my team. But after looking at the squad line-up in overview mode I saw that I had more Spaniards than Englishmen in my 2014 Liverpool squad. Seeing as I had attempted to roleplay Rafael Benitez in the game this didn't surprise me, but then I looked back at my past transfers, and I hadn't signed a player from an English club for three years, when I panic bought Matt Murray as a back-up keeper from Wolves. Wondering why, it was pretty easy to come to the conclusion that they were all overpriced bastards anyway, and my youth squad produced enough gems anyway. So I clicked on my youth squad, and my assistant rated my top five youngsters under eighteen, only one of them was English, one was Polish, one Scottish and the other two Irish. Bugger that, I really was a foreign outlet. All Liverpudlian youngsters though.
It was time to compare my English and Spanish players to try and observe any class difference, it was- Pepe Reina, Miguel Torres, Raul Albiol, Emilio Insua, Iago, Silva, Fernando Torres, Alfonso Guerrero (regen forward) and Antonio Barragan versus Jack Hobbs, Steven Gerrard, Paul Anderson, Adam Barnes (regen wonderkid), Justin Kelly (another good regen) and Daryl Fisher (regen who failed to live up to expectations). 9 v 6. Looking at that the standard was higher in the Spanish camp, but they were generally maturer players in their peak and internationals, while the English contingent had only two players between 22 and 30, the rest being either youngsters or older (Gerrard). It seemed that the Spaniard were generally better and first teamers, while the English ones would one day be, hopefully.
What a ramble, I probably lost a lot of readers with that, ho hum. You'd have to be dedicated to slave your way through that, and I will be gratified if you did. Muchos gracias, all of you. And I hope your not too bored out of your skull.