I fell off my chair...
From Rawk:
Kuyt, Jova, Poulsen, Johnson, Skrtel, Agger, Carra, Soto, Lucas, Konch would all be gone if I had my way.
Sick of hearing people say that Johnson is actually a good defender, or that he offers anything going forward. On the rare occasion his cross doesn't hit the opposite by line on the first bounce, he offers something. Most of the time he is fecking shit. Merson is a c*nt and what Glen said about him was spot on, but Merson was also spot on about him. Two fecking dogshit defenders slagging each other off, one a gambling addict, one a toilet seat kleptomaniac.
Skrtel is a massive liability. He doesn't seem able to do anything at all. feck him off to France or something.
Agger used to be great but that player is long gone. All he is now is a semi-injured husk of a footballer. Get rid. We can't afford that kind of liability.
Carra is so far past it that when he looks back he can see Bruce Forsyth trying to catch him up. Give him a coaching job if he wants it, but dear god don't let him take to the field.
Soto can head the ball. There endeth the lesson.
Konchesky, the less said the better. If football's were women he'd be able to stare them away from our goal with his sinister face.
What does Lucas actually do? He doesn't break play up as well as Masch. He can barely pass, and when he does he does it fecking slowly. I know the lad has a lot of fans cos he's a cult hero, for being so shit. But seriously we have to get over this idea that he's a world beater. He's only good enough for Liverpool because of how fecking mediocre we are.
Poulsen cereal goes soggy before he puts the milk in. He's like a fecking Ent.
Jovanovic has no idea what to do when he has the ball so he just runs. Where does he run to? Nobody knows. And when that doesn't work he throws his arms about like an idiot and gets booked.
Kuyt is just a shit footballer. He is a decent athlete, he has great stamina. But he is a shit footballer.
His first touch reminds me of running into the springs when I played Sonic as a kid. Who the feck knows where the ball will end up?
