Power of D.P. revisited

Sipwell had a number of posts on the shelves which he was unable to publish because of the instant shock that passed through powersoccerland: the news that Airfix_9 had shaven his and our proud. I am happy to inform you that we entered phase two of our fierce battle: behind closed doors diplomacy to settle for a compromise (with key negotiators myself and hogweed versus Mrs. Airfix_9, we think we can strike an interesting deal).

Indeed, the unexpected news of such a tragic event, postponed my comment on his “The Power of D.P.”. I was, dear readers of this blog, in a “French colère” (aka furious) that Mr. Whiskers, a brave Marxman – do you see the double content of that word? Do you see it? And do you get it? I mean… marXman, pronounce it and look it up in a dictionary… O joy… hang on a minute… I have to wave palm tree leaves at my own genius for a moment… marxman… Isn’t it true, aren’t all our clan brothers Marxmen… huh… I made my day… anyway: back to the important stuff I was writing about – attacked a fellow-Marxman (I am going to use that word every time now… It gives me time to enjoy my own genius).
Somewhere else on this blog, a probably slightly drunk and certainly delusional Mr. Bristle wrote a (let’s be honest here) silly post on the power of a second-rated football player named David Platt. The content resembled the actual goal in 1990 (utterly undeserved, in overtime and on the basis of a free kick which should not have been awarded in the first place)…
For some unexplainable reason the vision of Moustachio was blurred. A short discussion with his opponent AND clan brother led to the following: tommyroels did not lose by the quality of Goatee Jones his gameplay but purposively lost out of sheer compassion with Chris J. Beard who, as a sign of support for his struggling football Club AFC Fulham, did nothing but lose since the update. As he was on the border of a mental breakdown and resignation from the game – we all deeply respect and I personally love and even adore our ex-moustached London airplane spotting North Pole walker – he gave him a double win.

Strikingly enough (and in full expression of his nation’s characteristics) he referred to a completely useless, untalented and typically British attacker – isn’t the fact that England scored LESS goals than their opponents, due to a perennial and almost hereditary lack of people with the knowledge to score, the most important reason why England doesn’t go to the E.C. next June? – named David Platt, aka David Who? The power of David Platt? The power of second rank football player whose only contribution that day was to accidentally run into the ball and cause it to divert into the goal? Don’t make me laugh. Platt has no power, Platt has nothing at all, except a fish and chips shop somewhere in a hellhole across the North Sea!

Demand from Sipwell: The name of David Platt will remain absent from these pages in future or Sipwell will fake a heart attack