The Toon travelled to Sheffield with Wilson in attack, our opponents rock bottom but it’s 5 at the back. Set out our stall, we aren’t going to commit. All part and parcel of the Steve Bruce remit.
We start off sluggish, the passings inept. Hendrick looks homeless, disheveled and unkept. Longstaff is lost and everything is sloppy. He’s playing ‘false 10’, should of stuck to ice hockey. And then there’s Yedlin who is too easily breached. Not only that, his president’s impeached.
As possession teeters around 30%. This is nowt new, no attacking intent. Then a moment we certainly won’t saver, with an awful hair do, enter Ryan Fraser. Two silly tackles and the ref doesn’t waver. An early bath for Fraser, reckless behaviour.
‘You’ve got to feel for Steve Bruce’ no, not really, the bloke has got his customary excuse.
Into the 2nd half, any words of inspiration? Just more devastation and a lack of perspiration.
For Sheffield, it’s chance after chance. Newcastle struggling to cope, struggling to advance. These haven’t won a game all season to add to the plight. Newcastle bending over, to Sky’s clear delight.
It’s shambolic, prehistoric with no histrionics. Nothing on the bench to give us a tonic. We’re alarmingly bereft of pace and quality. A Sheffield pen via video technology.
How’s the bacon did you say? We can’t go on playing this way. It’s time to go Mr Bruce, you’ve out-welcomed your stay. A chancer, free lancer with no second answer. You claim mass hysteria, do the right thing and remove your posterior.
And lastly, Mr run badly, the trashy Mike Ashley. Neglect, oppressed, it’s sports direct. Non essential, a lack of footballing credential. A slimey nomad, anyone will do for me Bonny lad. Time to act, take your sports shop tat. Get out of the club you fat cockney twat.
It’s full time. 1 nil and I’ve had my fill. The clubs dead, relegation dread while Boris ensures the kids go unfed. A bore, a chore and rotten to the core. But Newcastle United, there’s always next week. We’ll support you ever more.