Howmanheyman

Pooetic, Poyetic, err, I thought I'd stretch it a bit, like.

The secret diary of Lee Ryder aged 44 and a half. 18/02/2015 Well diary, ah thought ah'd pay a visit to me Ma's to see how she was getting on, like. Ah was in the kitchen going through the fridge for some Marksys biscuits that she always gets when the door bell rang, me Mam went to the door to answer it as ah delved through the choccy biccies on my quest for a treat. A minute later me Ma opens the kitchen door to say that there was someone asking for iz. "Did he say who he was?" ah said to the Ryder Matriarch. Me Mam said that no he didn't say who it was but he looked a bit desperate, had a NUFC tracka top on, had a DVD copy of 'The likely Lads' in one hand and a Bobby Robson DVD in the other. "Fuck me!" Ah said, "What!!!!!?????" Me Ma replied with a death look on her face ah knew only too well, "Ah mean, dear me! It's gotta be John Carver! How did he know ah was here?" Anyways ah goes to the door and right enough it was Carvs standing there. "How's it gannin, Lee? Ah phoned the Chronicle and they said you'd be here. Can ah come in, like?" said the head Coach of Barrack Road. Ah asked him what he wanted and his face got a dark look about it. "Your fucking mate Neil Cameron, not exactly on board with me getting the job permanently is he? Ah'm needing you to go into overdrive, mate, Ah'm even hearing Rafa rumours now, man! Lee Ah need your help." Ah thought, nee way am ah going to stand by and see a fellow Geordie overlooked for the Toon managerial vacancy so ah says to Carvs, "Had your horses, John, chill oot! Ryder's fucking on it! But ah'm expecting the phone calls from SJP to come into Thomson House via the Ryder extension not the Cameron one, Capiche, Bonny Lad?"Carvs agreed all too easily and not only had ah secured the next Toon bosses aliegien, allergecienc, err loyalties but ah had also done Cameron up like a fucking Kipper! You just have to get up dead early in the morning to catch out the Knight Ryder, the premium man 'on the United beat' as me old mentor Ollie would say. An hour later Carvs sent round U21 player, Kyle Cameron to big up Geordie John giving youth a chance and also asked me to have a go at young Lubo Satka while ah was at it. "Why's Carvs pissed off with Satka?" Ah said to the Toon starlet. "He's not." Kyle replied, "Ah'm the one fucking pissed off. The Slovakian twat sent this lass ah fancy a text asking her out." Ah had to laugh, like, Big Andy Carroll said it with fists to my singing black and white canary, Stevie Taylor, but young Cameron was being a bit more subtle using yours truly for revenge, ah didn't think it was ethical, but ah divvent like these foreigners stepping on Geordie toes so ah did a hatchet job on the foreign love rat and got another Toon starlet onside which was another thing ticked off the list after me nark, Remi Streete fucked off to Ibrox. Three birds and one stone but that's all the ammo the Trinity group regional sports writer of the year needed to get Cams one and two plus Carver right where ah wanted them, ie, in me Levi's back pocket. Lol. Laters, diary, Ah've blagged Sir Les's phone number off Rob Lee, time for some easy Toon retro copy for me loyal Chronicle readers.

Officially Jel.

Joe Harvey took a holiday And went to Budapest Joe Harvey took a holiday And went to Budapest Those extra games in Europe Put our thin squad to the test So we won't do that no more Who's that cunt they call Mike Ashley? Who's that cunt we all abhor? Well we play in black & white But we couldn't give a shite Cos it's not worth watching any fucking more.

Everywhere we go! (Everywhere we go) People wanna know! (People wanna know) Who we are! (Who we are) Shall we tell 'em? (Shall we tell 'em) Who we are (Who we are) We're the financially, we're the financially, We're the, we're the, we're the financially stable mags.

'Gold' - spandeau ballet

We are the Geordies! The Geordie nice boys! And we are pleasant, And we are canny, We love John Carver, He's our own charva, And think Willo is definitely not a fanny.

Charnley wants us to sing this: "Ashley's dream! (Dream) Always believe in the dream, All for profit and just fuck the team, The cup's are quite terrible, Always believe iiiin..... (repeat)......

Lucky cockney bastards.

Am reading 'all with smiling faces' and these pioneers of football who made our club from nothing are the absolute opposite of this cretin who isn't fit to sell the half time pies to our support never mind lecturing them on conforming to the Ashley blueprint. Fuck off Charnley, when the club finally gets fumigated your role won't be forgotten.

I had a canny sup at a concert once. It was a Whitney Houston concert at the arena which I got roped into as one of the Wife's unreliable friends completely and unexpectedly couldn't make it which left me going with the Missus and stumping up near a £100 for the privilege. Once I realised you were allowed drink in your seats I filled my boots. As I was in the middle of a row so I thought I'd take turns which way I went to the bar so not to sicken anyone and be a pest but the very first time I got up a Mrs Bouquet look-a-like and her hubby gave me such a dirty look I made a point of going past them every time as well as going past them to siphon the python. I also, by pure luck, managed to drop my bait as I went past her one time. It wasn't right, but it was okay, as the late Miss Houston might have said.

Llambias is a fucking snake. I wouldn't wish him and his fat mate on anybody. (ok, they'd be perfect for Chelsea).

Any updates on our cup game?

1-0 Preston.

I'm watching that at the minute. I'm enjoying it but think it's definitely been overhyped. Soprano's is in a different league imo which I'm watching again.

Does Parky have any theories on these two...... leannenufc (31 Fry (30) Both share the same birthday and both were last online on the same day. Were they taken out in a double hit? (I'm bored).

This place is a graveyard. RTG having new threads popping up all over the place atm. Gus out, kernts, fuck off mag etc, etc.

You don't really do comedy do you?

How the fuck was the Bradford game not shown on tv but villa v Leicester was?? Anyway, absolutely lolz at the mackems. :lol:

How do you know the medical staff didn't inform Charnley of his previous injury record? How do you know the club didn't take a risk as they hoped he would get a good injury free run, show his quality and then make the club a profit when a more ambitious club bought him?

Bump. Many happy returns to the Messiah and Andrew.

Watched the second half of their game last night. As Gary Birtles would say, 'dear me'.

The secret diary of Lee Ryder aged 44 and a half. 12/02/2015 Dearest Brenda, as I sit here in this Dusseldorf hut I wonder how you are doing back home which I miss very much......Lol, just joking diary, it isn't Neville Hope, it's just your friendly neighbourhood Trinity Mirror group regional sports journalist of year reporter, Lee Ryder checking in forra catch up. Had a bit of a weird couple of days lately with people not paying the respect they should, namely a two bob cook and a Palace dogsbody who tried to shield the abdicated King, one Alan Pardew once of the throne of Barrack Road, from the Knight Ryder. Firsts off, ah got access in the tunnel at Selhurst Park after Carvs lads had fought for a valiantly hard won point at a tough place to go where we won 3-2 and 3-0 in the last two meetings. Ah was waiting for Carvs when ah spotted Pards walking past, being a journalist you learn not to let opportunities like this pass up, the ordinary punter in the street might get starstruck in these situations and stammer or ask for an autograph but Ryder spots the chance to get an exclusive Pards interview for the first time since the King had left the building. Ah was nee messing about with the silver Fox, ah said, "Alan! Alan! Hi mate! Great to see you again! great game tonight, it's me! Lee Ryder! Can ah have a couple of words if you're not too busy, like? The Chronicle's readers would love to hear from you, mate." Pards took one look and said, "Sure, Lee, would Lahve to have a natter, my old san. I tell you what, see that Palace PR geezer over there, tell 'im the King sent you and tell 'im to take you to the Longstand conference room. I'll see you in there in abaht ten minutes." Fucking champion! Pardew not forgetting our special relationship and a fantastic example of keeping good contacts in this crazy business of ours. Anyways, ah'm in this pokey Longstand conference room forra about an hour and a half, fuck me ah thought, is Pards tekking the piss here, like? how long is his fucking post match team talk going to go on for? Here was me waiting on him in this Longstand conference room which was just a glorified boot room where the lazy Palace players had just dumped their boots, bibs and cones, when finally a Palace employee opens the door and is about to turn the light off when ah dives in, "How! What ya deeing, man?! Ah'm waiting for Pards! " The Palace kid said, "I dahn't know who you are, fella, but Mr Pardew left for home 45 minutes ago and you shouldn't really be in here, Geordie." So that was the score, eh? The PR guy was trying to save Pards a Ryder grilling and ushered the ex-King out of the way, very cute ah suppose, credit to the PR kid, protecting his boss. Some you win, some you lose. The next day as ah finished up me match report ah decided to head down to the Thomson house canteen for some scran. Ah notice a new cook in there so ah says to him, "Alreet mate? Ah'll have three sausage, one black pudding, some bacon, give iz the crispy looking ones, some fried bread and beans. Cheers, mate." The cook said back, "Jamie Oliver doesn't get called 'mate' so divvent call me 'mate' ok?" Fuck me! the cheeky bastard! Ah says back, "Ah call Jamie Oliver a soft cockney wanker, do ya want me to call you a 'wanker' instead?" We stare each other out a bit before the Ryder glare gets too much for the kid and he serves up me bait. Fucking hell man, the company have to stop taking on these YTS catering kids, it's not doing the kids any favours thinking they can be lippy to old sweat, ex-terrace, away day Toon Army foot soldiers like yours truly. Anyways, respect, diary. Ryder and out.