Arsenal
Get outta your safe house and get ready to fight
The Spurs running down "Gunners" with all of our might.
No effing guns for us; just fleet feet on the pitch
On Aaron, On Eidur, On Bale, Pav and Modric
In Cold war days it was said, "Better Red than Dead"
That was then and this is now: "Better Dead than Red"
Yeh Gunners, you're mired in muck and you really suck
Outta you we'll knock The You Know What, W.T.F.
Yeah, we Lilly whites have might and right on our side
Friggin Flying Emerites, we can not abide
You're from down deep where Satan and Red devils dwell
Last word to you: "Up yours, Arses, and go to Hell!"
Aston Villans
Aston Villans? Hell no. "Asston Villains" Hell yes! Your vile, villainous, villainy, is known in virtually every villa in all varieties of various villages from Vladivostok to Ville Platte. You're even vilified & vilipended by vermin!
Acorns your sponsor? "Live oaks from little acorns grow?" Is that your pathetic little moniker? Not in your short-lived friggin' Wigan life time: now 'til 11/28/09 when you're dead meat. Even voracious vultures will be repelled by your tainted rotten putrid flesh.
Don't gamble with Mansion.com; you'll loose every time. The cards are stacked against you. Our mansion rocks; your little Lupus-infested leprous-infected villa sucks. Aston, you're an asterisk in a historical footnote.
Birmingham City, FC aka "The Blues"
Hey, "Blues" of Birmingham City
When we're through with you we pity
You, all black and blue
You crying, boo hoo:
"We're itty bitty and shitty"
Blackburn FC aka as "The Rovers", "The Riversiders", "The Mighty Blue & Whites"
Red Rover, Red Rover, send "The Rovers" over; you'll be over and you'll roll right over cause Rover's bark is bigger than his bite. The mighty Spurs are waiting at the line for the kill. Along with Rover so goes Karl Rove(o)ver the hill and into the valley of Death.
Blackburn: Burn baby burn! You say you're "The Mighty Blue and Whites" but you're just black burning bloody brigand blackguards. Rover, you and your fellow Fidos are bedraggled black dogs barking and roving aimlessly across the field of play pathetically pawing crosses to set up nosers which only end up in nosedives. No goals for you!
Your latin motto "Arte et labore" "By skill and hard work" is laughable doggish doggerel, and doglegged dogma. Dog-"gone"-it! "Love's Labour's Lost", with apologies to Shakespeare, better fits the bill & kill cause you're losers and there's no love lost on you! Even your mothers run from you in disgust and revulsion and curse your birth and foul play on the field.
Your sponsor, "Crown Paints," can't paint over your cracked, collective crowns to cover up your congenitally, crooked, cowardly, crazed cretinism. You went up the hill too many times and let poor litle Jill come tumbling down after you. That was the crowning blow! Have you no shame? This time like Rover and Karl Rove(r) you'll be over and rolling down the hill with a broken skull for your lack of skill; we'll be waiting for the final kill.
Roll over, Rovers, you're dead FOROVER!!!!!
Blackpool FC aka "The Seasiders, The 'Pool', The Tangerines
Hey bloody blackguards from Blackpool
Just like rotters from Liverpool
Just waste and sewage
Not fit for drainage
Blackpool fools pooled in a cesspool
Bolton
Trotters?, Whites?, White men? Wanderers?
Philanderers and panhandlers
We'd say and Rotters not Trotters
Nor Whites, nor White men but buggers
We're the real McCoy the real Whites
You're cowards to boot and foot "Lites"
You've taken our name, that's YOUR game
Stolen identity! For shame
We remind you crime doesn't pay
With us you'll never have your way
There's no hope for rotters like you
You stink to high heaven, Phi-ew!
Burnley
There's a club out there called Burnley
Effetes who love crumpets and tea
Not beer but claret
Crush 'em and ferret
Out wussies and bash 'em with glee
Chelsea
So you think you're number one and really hot stuff?
Just wait; you'll soon be shouting "Enough is enough"
When we Spurs come barreling down on your pitch
All you'll want to do is hide and Tottenham ditch
"Pensionners" and "The Blues"; apt names for you Chelsea
When we're through with you, Friggin Hell! we shall see
You strewn all over the place; it will be bloody
With you on your knees crying: "We're fuddy-duddy"
You think you're the cat's meow and hoity toity
That's crap for sure; we know you're just hoipolloity
You're black, we're white, you're effing sots and we are pure
The sight and smell of you we can't for long endure
Everton FC, aka "The Toffees," "The Toffeemen," "The Blues", "The Peoples Club", "The School of Science" (from Liverpool)
Gee-Zuz Kuh-Wry-Uhst! Who the Hell are you? "Toffeemen?," "The Toffees?", "The Blues?," "The Peoples Club?", "The School of Science?"... .!!! You've got a friggin identity problem! Bi-polar? Hell no! Multi-polar! You're friggin' sickos and when we're finished with you, you'll be singing "The Blues" --not wearing them -- cause you'll be black (another one of your colors!) and blue from head to foot. Your headers will go no where, "Nowhere Men," and your feet will kill you. So much for your friggin footwork. You Toffees are "The Schizo Softees" from "The School of Cesspool from Liverpool." No more of this "School of Science crap."
So your sponsor is Chang Beer! Fuckin Falun Gong!!!! Now we know where "The Peoples Club" name comes from: CHINA. You're not only sickos but friggin' Commies "to boot." There are "Chinks" in your "armour."
Yeah, making Toffee is your real calling and is what you will be doing after next Sunday. You'll end up making toffee and selling it on the street corners of Liverpool. Everton FC? NEVERTON! Never ever Ever(ton) again.
Fulham FC aka "The Cottagers," "The Whites", "The Lilly Whites"
So you actually play at "Craven Cottage"!!! And you confess to being confessed cowards! You ADMIT you're CRAVEN! Jeezus! Not all confessed cowards fess up, so we'll give you your "due doo" right in your fulsome Fulham face for your want of courage and ignoble behavior.
Not only are you craven confessed cowards, but you're pernicious plagiarists to boot. You claim you're "The Lilly Whites" and/or "The Whites" but you've stolen and expropriated OUR moniker you friggin fallacious, false, fairy, fake, fraudulent, fetid, felonious, felons!
So you "cottagers" dwell in cottages making crappy cottage cheese! Cheese Whiz! You cottagers are like the drained curd of sour milk of cottage cheese but you stink more like Limburger.
We're sure that you illiterate ignorant bastards can't and don't read, so we'll have to give you the definition of "fulham", no shit, in the WEBster New Collegiate Dictionary: Slang, "A loaded die".
Cheesus, you're not only craven confessed cowards, stinking stench-emitting cottagers & purloined thieves, but also corrupt crooked gamblers as well. We'll safely wager that your defeat will be decisively devastating.
You're full of it Fulham, and we're not talking ham here.
Hull FC
There once was a League club called Hull
Who longed to be smart and not dull
Their wish was in vain
Cause numbskulls can't gain
Ground over the Spurs: 10; Hull: null
Liverpool FC aka "The Reds"
You may really think that you rule
But you're just proven fool proof fools
And when we're thru with you, you'll
have no tools nor family jewels
Poor "Reds" of the school of no rule
You're mere dREDful foolish poor fools
Just foolhardy fools of uncool
A cesspool gruel of loose stools
You are the worst wusrt liver-pool
And a poor match for Spurs' duels
No get up and go and no fuel
A cesspool gruel of loose stools
Bereft of tools and family jewels
A cesspool gruel of loose stools.
Manchester City
Let's get a few things straight right off the "ball." Let's clear the air and cut to the chase!!
Your Sponsor is Etihad Airways, the national air line of the United Arab Emirates. Right? The Chairman of your club is Khaldoon Al Mubarak, member of the Executive Council for the Emirate of Abu Dhabi. Right? And your owner is Sheikh Mansour bin Zayed Al Nahyan, the brother of the ruler of Abu Dhabi and a trillionaire. Right? And your song of choice, "Blue Moon", we've been told, is to be sung as "The Crescent Moon". And you're an ENGLISH Football Club!!!!???.
Listen "City", just what country are you "The Citizens" of? Not Manchester, England, for sure. Just citizens of the world, you say. Screw that!
Manchester United
Hey you MUFC'ers, yes that's what it looks like to us.
Not only MUCF'ers but whoa... . what gives with this football chant of yours?
Oh, Owen Hargreaves,
You are the love of my life,
Oh Owen Hargreaves,
I’d let you shag my wife
Oh, Owen Hargreaves,
I want curly hair too...
We Spurs are not psychiatrists but if you MUFC'ers love Owen Hargreaves, want his curly hair, is the love of your lives, and would let him shag your wives, who and what the hell are you? WTF, MUFC! Please Spur us the details.
What we do know for certain is that your sponser is AIG!! Not only are you morally bankrupt but financially corrupt. And your nickyname is the Red Devils. So (1) morally corrupt, (2) financially bankrupt and (3) inherently evil as well by consorting with the Devil. Need we say more? ... . Well, Hell, yes. Screw you, you moronic cretins.
Newcastle United aka "The Maggies" & "The Toon"
No coals just goals to Newcastle
An easy "feat" and no hassle
The "Maggies" so lame
When we Spurs take aim
Booting Newcastle, It's facile
The Portsmouth Wussies
Listen you bloody lilly livered listless ludicrous Liliputian last place laughing stock League losers. We're gonna kick your poor pathetic pestiferous pestilent Portsmouth pussy asses from Naptown to Kingdom come. You suck!
Stoke City Potters
Hey you blackguard slow poke pigs–in-a-poke blokes from Stoke. What a joke! You poor pathetic potty pot shot Potters pissing in your potties. Yeah, Stoke City Potties!
Little Itty bitty Stoke City!
Sunderland Black Cats
Hear this you Sunderland Black Cats. You may think you're the ultimate fat Black Cats but Halloween is over and you don't scare us. We know you're just puny, pitiful, prurient, pussy cats: pussy-wussie infelicitous felines. And guess who's going to let the dogs out? (Answ: Michael Vick, a new Spurs acquisition). Guess who's scared now!!!???
Sunderland, we're gonna cast you asunder, sunder you and rip you apart from paw to paw until we leave you limp, listless, & lifeless. You're not only lost losers but dead meow meat.* Unlike Lazarus, you will not rise from the dead. Jesus is on OUR side. Your Stadium of Lights is dark.
West Bromwich Albion aka WBA, The Baggies, West Brom, Throstles
Go back where you came from, Albion
The Premier League's too tough to be on
You're out of your class
Cause we'll kick your ass
from White Hart Lane to oblivion
West Ham United FC "Whufc" aka as "The Hammers", The Cockney Boys", "Tea Academy"
Okay you Whufc'ers, you actually play at Boleyn [sic] Ground!!
You named your stadium after Anne Boleyn!! Well, you know what happened to her! Friggin prophetic. The same fate awaits you at your ground when a sea of blood will spill over your headless bodies and detached severed heads -- all to be strewn across the battlefield of Boleyn Ground.
YOU won't be singing "I'm forever blowing bubbles" your team's anthem but WE'll be singing "With their heads (yours] tucked underneath their arms, they walked the bloody tower, .... at the midnight hour." No longer your bubbly anthem of old but your recumbent requiem of now.
You once thought you were the tough guys, "The Mile End Mob", The Inter- City Hooligans, The Hammers, etal. but now you're just headless nowhere men no longer blowing bubbles but but forever bubbling in hot water in Hell.
You lost your wager with us despite the fact that your sponsor is SBOBET, an on-line race and sports book where gamblers can wager bets. You lost BIG TIME. The deck was stacked against you: Henry VIII, Satan, Anne Boleyn but above all by the might & right of The Tottenham Hotspur Football Club!
Wigan Latics*
Whoa...... you Wigan whorelock [sic] Wiccans well into withcraft and worse by conjuring up your evil in celtic wigwams wrought with wickedness. You're not going to wigwag or wiggle out of your upcoming game with the Hotspurs, you wimpy, weasely, weekkneed, weakling, weenies of Wicca.
Tottenham isn't called the Spurs for n'owt; we'll be wearing them to kick into your bloody bloodied shins. Bloody Hell!! Your kinky garb of latex will excude a stinking malodorous milky fluid mixed in with your foul filthy infected blood which will ooze from your battered bodies and shins. Eyewitness accounts report that you lilly livered Latics lactate too!!! Holy Shit!!! Jeeesuz Christ!! Too pathetic to be pitied.
Your SPURious behaviour will be be SPURned.
COYS
*Latics is alledgedly a short form for Athletics but Latics we claim is really derived from latices, a plural form of latex, made from a milky fluid as in poppies and spurges that exudes a white thick substance when a plant is cut.
Wolverhampton Wanderers, FC aka "The Wolves"
Who's afraid of the big bad Wolves! NO ONE! Especially the third of the Three Little Pigs! Who's afraid of Virginia Wolf? YOU ARE! You'll want to commit suicide too, knowing that we Spurs can whip, whop, wilt, whack and whang you, you wretched waisted Wolverhampton wastrels. We'll wrest you from your worm eaten, wailful, woeful lairs & whip your middling Midland asses. But you warrant worse!. You'll cry wolf, but as wolves in sheep's clothing you'll be thrown to the wolves for your wolfy, wampus, washed up, waisted, woeful worthlessnes. Just wimpy whoremongers and washed up Wanderers, wantonly wandering aimlessly across the wreckage of the football battlefield.
Yeah, you may have eaten the first two pigs by huffing and puffing and blowing down their straw and stick houses but you couldn't blow down the brick safehouse. You think you're wily- and sly-like foxes but you're just stupid dumb-ass fucking wolves; you'll go down the chimney and end up in a tub of boiling water for the third pig's dinner. Your motto of "Out of darkness cometh light" (Jeezuz!!!) will forever be "Out of boiling water cometh a Wolfpack of boiled dead meat." Well, we won't want to wolf you down for our supper that's for sure. Your rotten flesh is too tainted by your foul play on the field. For the few of you who do escape the fate of the pot of boiling water, your species will be finished anyhow since no she-wolf wolverine nor wolverine whore, for that matter, will sleep with you -- not even for top pay! You're not only finished but extinct!!
Get outta your safe house and get ready to fight
The Spurs running down "Gunners" with all of our might.
No effing guns for us; just fleet feet on the pitch
On Aaron, On Eidur, On Bale, Pav and Modric
In Cold war days it was said, "Better Red than Dead"
That was then and this is now: "Better Dead than Red"
Yeh Gunners, you're mired in muck and you really suck
Outta you we'll knock The You Know What, W.T.F.
Yeah, we Lilly whites have might and right on our side
Friggin Flying Emerites, we can not abide
You're from down deep where Satan and Red devils dwell
Last word to you: "Up yours, Arses, and go to Hell!"
Aston Villans
Aston Villans? Hell no. "Asston Villains" Hell yes! Your vile, villainous, villainy, is known in virtually every villa in all varieties of various villages from Vladivostok to Ville Platte. You're even vilified & vilipended by vermin!
Acorns your sponsor? "Live oaks from little acorns grow?" Is that your pathetic little moniker? Not in your short-lived friggin' Wigan life time: now 'til 11/28/09 when you're dead meat. Even voracious vultures will be repelled by your tainted rotten putrid flesh.
Don't gamble with Mansion.com; you'll loose every time. The cards are stacked against you. Our mansion rocks; your little Lupus-infested leprous-infected villa sucks. Aston, you're an asterisk in a historical footnote.
Birmingham City, FC aka "The Blues"
Hey, "Blues" of Birmingham City
When we're through with you we pity
You, all black and blue
You crying, boo hoo:
"We're itty bitty and shitty"
Blackburn FC aka as "The Rovers", "The Riversiders", "The Mighty Blue & Whites"
Red Rover, Red Rover, send "The Rovers" over; you'll be over and you'll roll right over cause Rover's bark is bigger than his bite. The mighty Spurs are waiting at the line for the kill. Along with Rover so goes Karl Rove(o)ver the hill and into the valley of Death.
Blackburn: Burn baby burn! You say you're "The Mighty Blue and Whites" but you're just black burning bloody brigand blackguards. Rover, you and your fellow Fidos are bedraggled black dogs barking and roving aimlessly across the field of play pathetically pawing crosses to set up nosers which only end up in nosedives. No goals for you!
Your latin motto "Arte et labore" "By skill and hard work" is laughable doggish doggerel, and doglegged dogma. Dog-"gone"-it! "Love's Labour's Lost", with apologies to Shakespeare, better fits the bill & kill cause you're losers and there's no love lost on you! Even your mothers run from you in disgust and revulsion and curse your birth and foul play on the field.
Your sponsor, "Crown Paints," can't paint over your cracked, collective crowns to cover up your congenitally, crooked, cowardly, crazed cretinism. You went up the hill too many times and let poor litle Jill come tumbling down after you. That was the crowning blow! Have you no shame? This time like Rover and Karl Rove(r) you'll be over and rolling down the hill with a broken skull for your lack of skill; we'll be waiting for the final kill.
Roll over, Rovers, you're dead FOROVER!!!!!
Blackpool FC aka "The Seasiders, The 'Pool', The Tangerines
Hey bloody blackguards from Blackpool
Just like rotters from Liverpool
Just waste and sewage
Not fit for drainage
Blackpool fools pooled in a cesspool
Bolton
Trotters?, Whites?, White men? Wanderers?
Philanderers and panhandlers
We'd say and Rotters not Trotters
Nor Whites, nor White men but buggers
We're the real McCoy the real Whites
You're cowards to boot and foot "Lites"
You've taken our name, that's YOUR game
Stolen identity! For shame
We remind you crime doesn't pay
With us you'll never have your way
There's no hope for rotters like you
You stink to high heaven, Phi-ew!
Burnley
There's a club out there called Burnley
Effetes who love crumpets and tea
Not beer but claret
Crush 'em and ferret
Out wussies and bash 'em with glee
Chelsea
So you think you're number one and really hot stuff?
Just wait; you'll soon be shouting "Enough is enough"
When we Spurs come barreling down on your pitch
All you'll want to do is hide and Tottenham ditch
"Pensionners" and "The Blues"; apt names for you Chelsea
When we're through with you, Friggin Hell! we shall see
You strewn all over the place; it will be bloody
With you on your knees crying: "We're fuddy-duddy"
You think you're the cat's meow and hoity toity
That's crap for sure; we know you're just hoipolloity
You're black, we're white, you're effing sots and we are pure
The sight and smell of you we can't for long endure
Everton FC, aka "The Toffees," "The Toffeemen," "The Blues", "The Peoples Club", "The School of Science" (from Liverpool)
Gee-Zuz Kuh-Wry-Uhst! Who the Hell are you? "Toffeemen?," "The Toffees?", "The Blues?," "The Peoples Club?", "The School of Science?"... .!!! You've got a friggin identity problem! Bi-polar? Hell no! Multi-polar! You're friggin' sickos and when we're finished with you, you'll be singing "The Blues" --not wearing them -- cause you'll be black (another one of your colors!) and blue from head to foot. Your headers will go no where, "Nowhere Men," and your feet will kill you. So much for your friggin footwork. You Toffees are "The Schizo Softees" from "The School of Cesspool from Liverpool." No more of this "School of Science crap."
So your sponsor is Chang Beer! Fuckin Falun Gong!!!! Now we know where "The Peoples Club" name comes from: CHINA. You're not only sickos but friggin' Commies "to boot." There are "Chinks" in your "armour."
Yeah, making Toffee is your real calling and is what you will be doing after next Sunday. You'll end up making toffee and selling it on the street corners of Liverpool. Everton FC? NEVERTON! Never ever Ever(ton) again.
Fulham FC aka "The Cottagers," "The Whites", "The Lilly Whites"
So you actually play at "Craven Cottage"!!! And you confess to being confessed cowards! You ADMIT you're CRAVEN! Jeezus! Not all confessed cowards fess up, so we'll give you your "due doo" right in your fulsome Fulham face for your want of courage and ignoble behavior.
Not only are you craven confessed cowards, but you're pernicious plagiarists to boot. You claim you're "The Lilly Whites" and/or "The Whites" but you've stolen and expropriated OUR moniker you friggin fallacious, false, fairy, fake, fraudulent, fetid, felonious, felons!
So you "cottagers" dwell in cottages making crappy cottage cheese! Cheese Whiz! You cottagers are like the drained curd of sour milk of cottage cheese but you stink more like Limburger.
We're sure that you illiterate ignorant bastards can't and don't read, so we'll have to give you the definition of "fulham", no shit, in the WEBster New Collegiate Dictionary: Slang, "A loaded die".
Cheesus, you're not only craven confessed cowards, stinking stench-emitting cottagers & purloined thieves, but also corrupt crooked gamblers as well. We'll safely wager that your defeat will be decisively devastating.
You're full of it Fulham, and we're not talking ham here.
Hull FC
There once was a League club called Hull
Who longed to be smart and not dull
Their wish was in vain
Cause numbskulls can't gain
Ground over the Spurs: 10; Hull: null
Liverpool FC aka "The Reds"
You may really think that you rule
But you're just proven fool proof fools
And when we're thru with you, you'll
have no tools nor family jewels
Poor "Reds" of the school of no rule
You're mere dREDful foolish poor fools
Just foolhardy fools of uncool
A cesspool gruel of loose stools
You are the worst wusrt liver-pool
And a poor match for Spurs' duels
No get up and go and no fuel
A cesspool gruel of loose stools
Bereft of tools and family jewels
A cesspool gruel of loose stools.
Manchester City
Let's get a few things straight right off the "ball." Let's clear the air and cut to the chase!!
Your Sponsor is Etihad Airways, the national air line of the United Arab Emirates. Right? The Chairman of your club is Khaldoon Al Mubarak, member of the Executive Council for the Emirate of Abu Dhabi. Right? And your owner is Sheikh Mansour bin Zayed Al Nahyan, the brother of the ruler of Abu Dhabi and a trillionaire. Right? And your song of choice, "Blue Moon", we've been told, is to be sung as "The Crescent Moon". And you're an ENGLISH Football Club!!!!???.
Listen "City", just what country are you "The Citizens" of? Not Manchester, England, for sure. Just citizens of the world, you say. Screw that!
Manchester United
Hey you MUFC'ers, yes that's what it looks like to us.
Not only MUCF'ers but whoa... . what gives with this football chant of yours?
Oh, Owen Hargreaves,
You are the love of my life,
Oh Owen Hargreaves,
I’d let you shag my wife
Oh, Owen Hargreaves,
I want curly hair too...
We Spurs are not psychiatrists but if you MUFC'ers love Owen Hargreaves, want his curly hair, is the love of your lives, and would let him shag your wives, who and what the hell are you? WTF, MUFC! Please Spur us the details.
What we do know for certain is that your sponser is AIG!! Not only are you morally bankrupt but financially corrupt. And your nickyname is the Red Devils. So (1) morally corrupt, (2) financially bankrupt and (3) inherently evil as well by consorting with the Devil. Need we say more? ... . Well, Hell, yes. Screw you, you moronic cretins.
Newcastle United aka "The Maggies" & "The Toon"
No coals just goals to Newcastle
An easy "feat" and no hassle
The "Maggies" so lame
When we Spurs take aim
Booting Newcastle, It's facile
The Portsmouth Wussies
Listen you bloody lilly livered listless ludicrous Liliputian last place laughing stock League losers. We're gonna kick your poor pathetic pestiferous pestilent Portsmouth pussy asses from Naptown to Kingdom come. You suck!
Stoke City Potters
Hey you blackguard slow poke pigs–in-a-poke blokes from Stoke. What a joke! You poor pathetic potty pot shot Potters pissing in your potties. Yeah, Stoke City Potties!
Little Itty bitty Stoke City!
Sunderland Black Cats
Hear this you Sunderland Black Cats. You may think you're the ultimate fat Black Cats but Halloween is over and you don't scare us. We know you're just puny, pitiful, prurient, pussy cats: pussy-wussie infelicitous felines. And guess who's going to let the dogs out? (Answ: Michael Vick, a new Spurs acquisition). Guess who's scared now!!!???
Sunderland, we're gonna cast you asunder, sunder you and rip you apart from paw to paw until we leave you limp, listless, & lifeless. You're not only lost losers but dead meow meat.* Unlike Lazarus, you will not rise from the dead. Jesus is on OUR side. Your Stadium of Lights is dark.
West Bromwich Albion aka WBA, The Baggies, West Brom, Throstles
Go back where you came from, Albion
The Premier League's too tough to be on
You're out of your class
Cause we'll kick your ass
from White Hart Lane to oblivion
West Ham United FC "Whufc" aka as "The Hammers", The Cockney Boys", "Tea Academy"
Okay you Whufc'ers, you actually play at Boleyn [sic] Ground!!
You named your stadium after Anne Boleyn!! Well, you know what happened to her! Friggin prophetic. The same fate awaits you at your ground when a sea of blood will spill over your headless bodies and detached severed heads -- all to be strewn across the battlefield of Boleyn Ground.
YOU won't be singing "I'm forever blowing bubbles" your team's anthem but WE'll be singing "With their heads (yours] tucked underneath their arms, they walked the bloody tower, .... at the midnight hour." No longer your bubbly anthem of old but your recumbent requiem of now.
You once thought you were the tough guys, "The Mile End Mob", The Inter- City Hooligans, The Hammers, etal. but now you're just headless nowhere men no longer blowing bubbles but but forever bubbling in hot water in Hell.
You lost your wager with us despite the fact that your sponsor is SBOBET, an on-line race and sports book where gamblers can wager bets. You lost BIG TIME. The deck was stacked against you: Henry VIII, Satan, Anne Boleyn but above all by the might & right of The Tottenham Hotspur Football Club!
Wigan Latics*
Whoa...... you Wigan whorelock [sic] Wiccans well into withcraft and worse by conjuring up your evil in celtic wigwams wrought with wickedness. You're not going to wigwag or wiggle out of your upcoming game with the Hotspurs, you wimpy, weasely, weekkneed, weakling, weenies of Wicca.
Tottenham isn't called the Spurs for n'owt; we'll be wearing them to kick into your bloody bloodied shins. Bloody Hell!! Your kinky garb of latex will excude a stinking malodorous milky fluid mixed in with your foul filthy infected blood which will ooze from your battered bodies and shins. Eyewitness accounts report that you lilly livered Latics lactate too!!! Holy Shit!!! Jeeesuz Christ!! Too pathetic to be pitied.
Your SPURious behaviour will be be SPURned.
COYS
*Latics is alledgedly a short form for Athletics but Latics we claim is really derived from latices, a plural form of latex, made from a milky fluid as in poppies and spurges that exudes a white thick substance when a plant is cut.
Wolverhampton Wanderers, FC aka "The Wolves"
Who's afraid of the big bad Wolves! NO ONE! Especially the third of the Three Little Pigs! Who's afraid of Virginia Wolf? YOU ARE! You'll want to commit suicide too, knowing that we Spurs can whip, whop, wilt, whack and whang you, you wretched waisted Wolverhampton wastrels. We'll wrest you from your worm eaten, wailful, woeful lairs & whip your middling Midland asses. But you warrant worse!. You'll cry wolf, but as wolves in sheep's clothing you'll be thrown to the wolves for your wolfy, wampus, washed up, waisted, woeful worthlessnes. Just wimpy whoremongers and washed up Wanderers, wantonly wandering aimlessly across the wreckage of the football battlefield.
Yeah, you may have eaten the first two pigs by huffing and puffing and blowing down their straw and stick houses but you couldn't blow down the brick safehouse. You think you're wily- and sly-like foxes but you're just stupid dumb-ass fucking wolves; you'll go down the chimney and end up in a tub of boiling water for the third pig's dinner. Your motto of "Out of darkness cometh light" (Jeezuz!!!) will forever be "Out of boiling water cometh a Wolfpack of boiled dead meat." Well, we won't want to wolf you down for our supper that's for sure. Your rotten flesh is too tainted by your foul play on the field. For the few of you who do escape the fate of the pot of boiling water, your species will be finished anyhow since no she-wolf wolverine nor wolverine whore, for that matter, will sleep with you -- not even for top pay! You're not only finished but extinct!!
Indianapolis
Spurs
Spurs
