Bullshit bollocks and lies Rubbish crap out your mouth no surprise Your gob covered for the regime But rarely produced more than steam Next in line a Belgian in disguise.
Sorry scouse Karlo you gave it a go You opened your gob - you put on a show But it was plain for all us to see Your tactics were shite - you were taking the P I guess you have sussed that the Belgians are shite And you won't get the backing to put up a fight It wont take you long to exit this dive Please find enclosed your P45.
The results under Karl have been poor, But I ask who could really do more? This regime is a joke, The club's gone up in smoke, So no shock when they showed him the door.
Shall I appoint thee to a summer's transfer window? Thou art incompetent and temporary. Shite loans do shake the faithful of the Valley, And Esri Konsa's probable release clause hath all too small a fee. Sometime too hot the Charlton hotseat gets, And often is your stark perplexion clear; And now that Johnnie Jackson's age is set; His chance, and our need to change course; is near; But thy role in football shall not fade; Don't lose possession in your team's defence; Though people may brag you were worse than Slade, You were still crap, thought 98 (not two) percent. So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see - You managed like shit. You're not the one for CAFC.
Fat scouser came to Charlton, his fortune to enhance. Ancient belgian potentate handed him his chance. Scouse blather ran unfettered, understood by few. The potentate's factotum told of lessons learned anew. Bedroom Tommy still holds sway, recruitment still awry. The training ground remains unchanged, without word as to why? Players come and players go, the costs are 'undisclosed'. Performance wanes, says potentate: "Scouser you're deposed."
With so many fans out there seething At the number of managers leaving We gave you a chance Cos we thought you could dance But your best off going back to car thieving
Comments
Moderators- cancel dinner plans
Violets are blue
You're sacked
F*** off
Rubbish crap out your mouth no surprise
Your gob covered for the regime
But rarely produced more than steam
Next in line a Belgian in disguise.
I'd worry this isn't clear enough to understand.
he wears a wankers hat
but making Karl redundant we can all agree on that
You’ve under-achieved.
Please find somewhere else to work.
It’s about results.
Or
Mediocrity.
That seems to be your standard,
but not here. Goodbye.
Who had an enormous gob
His tactics were shit
His face didn't fit
So Roland said find a new job
Who had a massive gobbo
He signed a no mark called clarke
Actually, just get your coat and f@ck off.
A few last words, my dear old friend,
Your days with us have reached their end.
Things weren't so bad but should be greater,
So all the best and see you later.
Despite his many mates' fame
He repeated their lies
To look good in their eyes
But they still made him take the blame
But all I've seen so far is you talking like a lil b****,
When you got here you made out we'd be playing like arsenal,
But you've spent more time off the pitch lodging your tongue up Katrien's a***hole,
Most of us at Charlton don't like you if you know what I mean,
So why don't you just f*** off back to your franchised team.
When the fans go against you Roly and katrien promised you'd be backed,
Dear Mr Robinson thanks for your services but you're sacked.
Lots of love, Duchat & Kat.
But the departure of Holmes was a real bombshell.
Then injuries struck down Josh and Watt,
And their replacements couldn't stop the rot.
The thin squad proved to be a folly,
As setbacks removed both Pearce and Solly.
Kashi and Page were nowhere to be seen,
While Naby Sarr was the new Mr Bean.
The promising start was now long gone,
As we lost again to Wimbledon.
And soon it was time to meet your fate
As the losing run stretched to eight.
"With regret" started the letter, you know the score,
It's time for Jose Riga to take over, once more!
Like some sort of stunt?
I just hope we get rid of
the useless fat c**t
You opened your gob - you put on a show
But it was plain for all us to see
Your tactics were shite - you were taking the P
I guess you have sussed that the Belgians are shite
And you won't get the backing to put up a fight
It wont take you long to exit this dive
Please find enclosed your P45.
But now sadly we must say goodybe,
And despite how Katrien will lie,
Our intention's to reinstate Fraeye
But I ask who could really do more?
This regime is a joke,
The club's gone up in smoke,
So no shock when they showed him the door.
He thought he had found Heaven,
But as the season went on,
He knew he was wrong,
Time to retire in Devon.
Thou art incompetent and temporary.
Shite loans do shake the faithful of the Valley,
And Esri Konsa's probable release clause hath all too small a fee.
Sometime too hot the Charlton hotseat gets,
And often is your stark perplexion clear;
And now that Johnnie Jackson's age is set;
His chance, and our need to change course; is near;
But thy role in football shall not fade;
Don't lose possession in your team's defence;
Though people may brag you were worse than Slade,
You were still crap, thought 98 (not two) percent.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see -
You managed like shit. You're not the one for CAFC.
(Inspiration from Shakespeare's Sonnet 18)
Force of resistance,
Free our reds,
Fuck off Roland.
I regret to inform you of the end
You tried veeery hard
But you're a real tub of lard
Love KM farewell, au revoir
To be read in a dodgy Belgium accent
Ancient belgian potentate handed him his chance.
Scouse blather ran unfettered, understood by few.
The potentate's factotum told of lessons learned anew.
Bedroom Tommy still holds sway, recruitment still awry.
The training ground remains unchanged, without word as to why?
Players come and players go, the costs are 'undisclosed'.
Performance wanes, says potentate: "Scouser you're deposed."
At the number of managers leaving
We gave you a chance
Cos we thought you could dance
But your best off going back to car thieving