Better start pricing Tampa-area hotels for the weekend of February 1 2009, bitches! Or not.

As wins go, that was about as satisfying as a traditional British dinner. It’ll stave off the hunger for a while. But rather than basking in the afterglow, you’re just kind of relieved that it’s over and that you were able to keep it down.

You’ve got to hand it to Coach Clever Trousers though. I mean, was the difference between a win and a loss yesterday not perfectly obvious to everyone watching? Clearly it was the punting prowess of Ben Graham. The Saints remain undefeated in the Ben Graham Era, and his acquisition has to rank right up there with the acquisitions of Drew Brees, Marques Colston and Jon Vilma. Or something. Hey, Weatherford’s team lost yesterday. So… uh… yeah. Ben Graham, bitches! Continue Reading…

The Ben Graham Era begins this weekend as our band of sodding wankers attempts to muster up enough competence to bugger a bunch of pissface nancy boys in what promises to be a ripping American football match.

The Saints’ playoff hopes may be right snookered, but I intend to be jolly bladdered anyway. Of course, there will probably be no room on the sofa for me, as usual, and I’ll have to sit on the rickety chair. Bloody fascists. Serves me right for hosting a bunch of sodding Tories.

Earlier in the week, I’d have splashed out 50 quid that the Saints are all set to pack up and play out the string. That may very well be the case, but wouldn’t it be far more cruel for the Saints to win this game? Reflexively, most of us still regard the Chargers as a quality opponent. Winning this game to pull back to 500 allows us all to continue to delude ourselves into thinking this team is the dog’s bollocks, and sets us up for yet another swift kick to the front bits at a later time. That’s the Saints we all know and love. Continue Reading…

At least the Saints achieved something yesterday. They finally discovered something that no amount of bacon could make better. Talk about a full-pound medium-rare double-stack hickory-grilled shitburger.

I suppose the bright side is that at least it took seven weeks this time for the Saints to suffer their first humiliating ass kicking of the season. And I suppose it’s liberating in a way to no longer have to worry about the playoffs. Unless you think there’s a chance in hell that this team is going 7-2 the rest of the way while both Tampa and Carolina go 5-4 or worse.

I find it strangely consoling to know that the players and coaches will be dining on British cuisine for the next seven days. Enjoy the jellied eels, black pudding and kidney pie, gentlemen. You’ve certainly EARN(ed) IT. Continue Reading…

Looks like I picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue.

Over the next five weeks, the Saints are going to log about a million miles in the air. Memo to the players: Don’t order the fish. Mofo will straight lay you to da bone. Jack you up. Cutty can’t hang.

But first, it’s a routine trip to Charlotte. This game has "make or break" written all over it. Win, and neither Tampa nor Carolina can beat you on a head-to-head tiebreaker. The Saints would be 2-0 in the division while Carolina and Atlanta would have two division losses. Lose, and you’re 2 games behind Carolina and can’t beat them on a head-to-head tiebreaker. You’ve got 3 teams to overtake and only 9 games left to do it. Or in other words, you’re completely screwed. Nervous? You betcha. First time? No, I’ve been nervous lots of times. Continue Reading…

Urge to kill… falling.

So the Saints are now 2-3 with Marteen and 1-0 with Sideshow Mehl. I’m not sayin’, I’m just sayin’.

Pop quiz, hot shot: Who currently leads the team in receiving yards? Here’s a hint… he’s on pace for a 1000 yard season, he’s currently 15th (!!!) in the league and he has a 50+ yard reception in each of the last three games. Just sayin’. Too bad he can’t catch. Right, Message Board Guy?

Even Everybody’s Favorite Defensive Back had himself a nice little moment in the sun, and somehow managed to avoid having it overshadowed by a shoot-yourself-in-the-face moment (or ten.) You know it’s your day when… Continue Reading…

It’s been yet another banner week for Skepticism and his asshole brother Cynicism down at the ole Bender household. I’m doing what I can to fight them off, and the Saints have been doing what they can to help. So I guess I ought to be thankful for that. Or something. Unfortunately, so far the results have been mixed.

They got off to a fine start by finally putting a merciful end to the Marteen Experience and bringing back Sideshow Mehl. I suppose I have to give them credit for correcting the mistake rather than compounding it further. But correcting the mistake doesn’t excuse the fact that the mistake was made in the first place. The damage has already been done, and it was massive. Furthermore, the way they chose to correct the mistake is disconcerting. Continue Reading…

Can’t get the stink off
He’s been hanging round for days
Comes like a comet
Suckered you but not your friends
One day he’ll get to you
And teach you how to be a holy cow

So have you had enough yet? Or is it gonna have to happen again? Because, let there be no doubt, it will happen again. And again and again.

The worst part is that it’s just such a waste. That seems to be the overriding theme of this season, and perhaps this latest era of Saints football.

I have no idea whether or not this team rebounds and ends up in the playoffs. They’re certainly good enough to do that. But what I do know is that this team has pissed away three games… already. They’re pissing away the season. They pissed away last season. Twice. All indications are that they’re pissing away the Drew Brees Years and the Reggie Bush Years. It’s all just such a big fucking waste, and that’s what hurts the most. It’s those three little words that just make you want to stick a screwdriver in your throat: coulda, woulda, shoulda. Continue Reading…

The ending will shock and confuse you.

It seems a marauding band of Spam-loving Scandinavian savages has set sail from the Green Midget Café in Bromley and is due to arrive Monday evening with the intent to loot, pillage and plunder along the banks of the Mississippi. They are in for quite the rude awakening.

Conquering large parts of Europe, England and eastern Canada is all well and good, but we don’t play that shit down here in these parts. And there’s no Spam on the menu. Deal with it, jerks.

The Vikings… what a bunch of assholes. The original bleach blondes. Phony, romanticized heroes to all manner of Nazis, racists, fascists, and angry goth poseur teens chugging Carlsberg from skull cups whilst sporting sleeveless chainmail shirts and corpsepaint puchased with earnings from their part-time jobs at the local mall. With a legacy like that, is it any wonder that these phony-baloney seafaring thugs, not a single one of whom ever donned a horned helmet, were eventually vanquished by…… Catholics? Venerators of… the Saints? Yeah, that’s right, bitches! Pwned. Überpwned. Eternapwned. Continue Reading…