TediousTom

Sorry I dont care....I try to care, I really do but this season has just sucked the lifeforces from me. You may bicker about County coming down instead of Motherwell or Kilmarnock but really is it that important? It is not, stop caring so much. Write it off. Let it go. Stop trying to get the last word. No stop that's enough. Go on no more, Aaaaaaarrrrrrggggggghhhhhhhh. I really care not a jot, not a jot indeed. We deserve to get relegated. Worst team in the league. A cluster of f**kities. A waste of my season ticket money. A waste of my precious time. Who really cares who else comes down with us (if anyone). Instead of worrying about County give your a family a hug, much more valuable.

You and me both Shull, you and me both. Nothing worse than sitting watching your team capitulte to a very poor Ross County/Motherwell/Kilmarnock/Partick Thistle whilst your mind is only occupied by just how sore your piles are that day!!!! Worse than sour grapes.

Yes perhaps that was the one facet of the story that could be regarded as far fetched!

Now this post I did enjoy. In the interests of my own enjoyment I wish to offer a phatom review on this phantom hotel no-one visited on a phatom holiday in a phantom future. Reviewer - Clint Billy Bob JFK Walton Hotel Name - The Ferguslie Clown Plaza "Stabbed and robbed - 2 stars" In August 2017 my wifes younger sister and I took a romantic vacation to Scotland in Ireland. We arrived at Paisley International airport in a beautiful big American plane. "Woohoo God bless America". Being as these people in Scotland in Ireland are not as advanced a us Americans I was not allowed on the American Airlines "Woohoo God Bless America" with my colt 45 or indeed even my browning semi automatic pistol. Walking through the tiny airport I was met by the most God awful weather. I mean man it rained and the rain was like totally cold and wet. I hailed a yellow cab only to find it was just a car and that cabs arent yellow in Scotland in Ireland but the cab here is white and sometimes black and sometimes any color. The wifes sister and I found a white cab, got in and I asked the driver to take us to the Ferguslie Plaza. The driver had a name like "Shull" or something and didnt really speak until I spoke to him. I asked what Paisley was like and the driver said it was like a "shithole" and he once got on the news because he said it about a dutch soccer player or something. I told the driver I was hungry and I could eat a big hot dog and a I wanted a Soda. The driver took me to a local shop callied "mamies" and was kind enough to wait outside with my wifes sister still in the cab, or taxi as they call it in Scotland in Ireland. In the shop doorway was a local guy, I dunno about twenty maybe and woo heee was he skinny and pale. He asked me for a light and I said "No, the good lord didnt not mean for me to smoke". He then asked me for "change" and I said "woo heee go see the lord boy thats the change you need". I dunno but it looked like he might have sniffed some angel dust and drunk some moonshine or something cause he was not right and pale and thin. The lord had a plan for this boy and I could tell it involved the devil. Well I went into "Mamies" superstore, not in a mall or anything but just like a shop only smaller. They didnt have no hot dogs, nachos, chilli burgers, chilli dogs, fried chicken or anything healthy like that so I gone bought myself a sandwich in like a plastic wrapper with some soda called Iron Brew. The man in the shop was like darker than me, like our president. I aint seen anyone liike that except dead on the CNN news. I walked back over the sidewalk to the cab and then onto the Fergulsie clown plaza with my wifes horny little sister. The cab driver was nice, he said because it was windy and hailstones and stuff he gone gave us money off our cab fare. It was only £198.42 for the cab. Shull was nice so I gone gave him a big tip. The hotel wasnt nice at all, not big like we have in America (woohoo God Bless America) but more like a house in a row called "Darkwood Crescent". It was like a special type of hotel that they have in Scotland in Ireland called something like a "Brew Hoose" and it takes in those that the lord has overlooked. I didnt like it one bit. I asked the manager where I could take my wifes younger sister so that I could get her God damn drunk and have may way with her. A little bar called the "Craigielea" was recommened but too damn far too walk unless you wore sneakers. Shull the cab man came back for me and took me to the Craigielea. I like Shull he gone only charged me £167.32 that time and called it "mates rates". I went into the bar and the local people must be very fit because they all wore tracksuits. Again I think the angel dust was being sniffed by these people cause they seem like spaced out and gone and gotten some right bad teeth in there mouths. The devil aint no stranger in the "Craigielea". I was mighty impressed when I could buy Budweiser and Jack Daniels but again no chilli dogs. A local greeted me in the traditional way by saying "whit you looking at" and "gies yer money". Ah just gone and told the man I would pray for him, his family and together we could fight off the devil. It all got a bit rowdy now as the tracksuited fellow then smashed his big beer glass on the bar and rammed it right into my face. I just gone and fell right off my barstool and now I could feel a large, tracksuited ginger woman rifling my pockets on my levis. I asked the lord to help me and I looked up for a sign. All I could see was the devil now causing another tracksuited man, this time with no teeth pull my wifes sister from her barstool and right onto her butt. It looked like he was needing food or soemthing cos he just gone and taken my wifes sisters handbag. We left the Craigielea and I asked another local to direct me to the local precinct. Instead of helping me he called me a "grassin bastart" and just gone hit me with a thing called a "chib". My wifes sister now followed my out of the pub and we now run down a street called "Well Street". I couldnt see no church anywhere and without the lord to help us we just ran and ran. I found myself at a soccer stadium, not a big stadium like we have in America but a little bitty stadium like we use in Ivy league baseball. A man called Stuart met me and asked If I wanted to buy the club, I gone and said no as I dont like soccerball. Stuart was nice, he started screaming "club for sale, come buy my club" and now that the blood had dried on or faces we asked the girl in the ticket office of the small soccer stadium to phone us a cab. Lordy behold was it not just Shull again. I told Shull I had no money on me but it was back at the hotel. Shull just gone and took us back to hotel and this time, because of my troubles only charged me £143.78. Shull is an angel but I regret I couldnt pay him as someone in the "brew hoose" had just gone and broke into my room, taken all my dollars and sold my clothes to everyone in the "brew hoose" I knew because they were all wearing pants down to the back of there knees, big baseball caps and sneakers with big tongues. Shull was nice, he said he would help me work off my debt that had now increased to £347.80 as I didnt ask for the meter to be switched off. My fault and I just knew I had to work off my debt to Shull that was £423.78 as I still hadnt asked for the meter to be switched off, God dammit! What was supposed to be a weekend of me drilling the wifes younger sister turned into me and her living in Shulls basement for 8 months ironing, cleaning, cooking, driving his cab and giving him bed baths. Finally Shull released me from my living hell and my wifes sister and I got home after I phoned American Express (woohoo God bless America) and they sorted things out. I now have a scar on my forehead and left cheek, my wife left me and her sister gone ran away with a local Christian group. I might not go back!

Some very interesting points in this thread and I shall accept this opportunity to contribute as this thread has somewhat interested me, somewhat interested me indeed. I paid for my season ticket in full last year. I gave the club an amount of money that is a significant enough amount to me that I did make certian sacrifices in my lifestyle to be in a position to hand over that cash. In other words a season ticket is an expensive purchase for most of us and I am included in that. The standard of football over the past season has been somewhat dreadful. My once loved attendance at St Mirren park to see the Saint Mirren professional football club pte ltd co first team playing squad play turned from an event to look forward to into drudgery. I did not enjoy the football at all last year. When making an expensive purchase one must consider carefully the positives and negatives before handing over ones cash for any product. I can declare that I wish I had not spent my money on a season ticket last year. In fact I could have derived more enjoyment from spending that money drinking beer and urinating it against a wall or on a homeless person whilst asleep. It is with some angst that I watched other football clubs around us operate in a more professional and ambitious manner. Why does my season ticket money pay for a lower calibre of manager and player than teams around us? Why in January were the very teams we were trying to compete with able to strengthen there first team playing squads whilst we appeared to flounder and repeatedly lose out? I have owned a season ticket for many a year and I have often referred to it on this very forum as my prized posession. However I do not like being ripped off and that is exactly how I feel about the money I spent last time round on my season ticket. Will I renew? I really do not know. In order for the Saint Mirren professional football club pte ltd co to persuade me to part with my cash again I will need to be shown some ambition from the club. I need to be "sold" my ticket rather than just blandly asked for my money. It may indeed be more prudent to leave the money in the bank, let it acrue interest and attend the football entirely at my own leisure.

What happy world this chap seems to inhabit. I predict a good solid play-off position for us Buddies..then hell only knows. One other thing I am sure of, next season will be better than the one just past. Bring on theeeeee MMMMMmmmmmooooooorrrtoooonnnn

Dont tell lies, it got jammed up with your clotted jizz!

I think I might just invest in the following T34LE Surely it will make me the envy of all fellow Buddies for years to come...what could go wrong?

I shall have a bash at this however I shall start with the keep list as it will be somewhat easier that way. Keep The girls in the ticket office The janitor The receptionist The physio The club doctor This website The fans council Release Every other useless f**kbag. Replace them all!

I can think of nothing worse that our team producing an act that Houdini himself would be proud of only to travel to Ibrox to get relegated. Anyway optimism will not change the fact that this Saint Mirren professional football club pte ltd co first team playing squad are utter baws. The stagnant and unoptimistic bod (who couldnt even get the bloody strip correct) practically stole my season ticket money as I have had zero value for money this bastarding season. Of all the clubs in the SPFL we are the one that deserves to be relegated above all others.

I would expect that this young man will be able to command a wage above that of the national minimum wage.

The Paisley Saint Mirren professional football club pte ltd co first team playing squad.

That reminds me, a few years back I wandered into a cake shop in Kilncadzow. A rare cake shop, rare indeed. The man on duty in said cake shop said "today only all cakes are £1." I said "smashing" (although in 1986 £1 was not cheap for a cake) and proceeded to have a look. I made my choice "shopkeep, shopkeep, I will have that one" The shopkeep placed the cake into a white paper bag and said "that will be £2 please sir". Somewhat bemused I made the obvious statement "I thought all cakes were £1 today" The shopkeep replied "ah but that's madeira cake!!!!"

Hey Mr Hebdo I may be able to assist here my forum chum, assist I may indeed. 1) He always played very well against our beloved team 2) He never seemed to play well when he did play for our beloved team. And those are the main reason's why one may have found Mr Imrie to be somewhat frustrating, somewhat frustrating indeed.

Dearie me, dearie, dearie, dearie me indeed. I shall tackle this young uns outburst with my usual touch of sense, wisdom and erm rightness. 1) Do not touch the turnstiles, they are fine. I can shuffle through them in jig time. My favourite ever turnstiles. 2) I like grey and the greyness in our stadium emphasises the modern tone of the stadia. Keep the grey. 3) The Saint Mirren sign is utter perfection, understated style unlike a big garish cheap thing. 4) The grey breeze blocks are unpretentious indeed. They look super smashing. 5) Hot water at the football is for Bovril and pishing. Continue to save the planet by providing only cold water in our toilets. 6) Keep the exposed pipes and cables. It looks raw and highly professional. 7) The seats are perfectly clean and I much prefer a natural dusting of err dust than wanky polish any day. 8) Love the electronic entry system. Along with the turnstiles utter perfection is achieved and it never goes wrong. 9) I love the finish of the stands, modern and professional. So good in fact that the architect of the Mill Street flats copied it. We are a design icon! 10) Apply to have the stadium listed. It is an architectural gem that personifies perfection and much better than what we had at Love Street before it was bulldozed. Other than maybe improve the climate of our country I would change nothing.

Och naw son, och naw indeed. Young Mcausland's job will be made that much easier playing beside a natural centre half. The young Cheesemeister has helped deliver many a clean sheet playing alongside the like of John Potter has he not? Mr Goodwin of the Irish Republic is currently out of position and I am afraid it usually shows. Mr Goodwin back to midfield please. One more time....och naw son.

Ah yes I see some light hearted non abusive conversation continues to offend you my somewhat distant forum friend. Mark Yardley is a Paisley legend whereas wee Lionel might not have even been to Paisley. I once saw Ally McCoist miss from 3 yards and I saw Mark Yardley miss from 2 yards at Somerset, Yardley just keeps getting better!

Perhaps he sits alongside Ian Harte and Jean Antoinne Curier.

Senility is clearly setting in with me. Having read this thread I seem to have mistakenly interpretated that the Saint Mirren professional football club pte ltd co have signed a footballer that has a preffered position in the middle of the defence, the centre half position if you will. Clearly I am off my rocker, barking at the moon and away with thon fairies. This imaginary centre half could partner Cheesey allowing us to push James Goodwin into midfield. Surely such a sensible move indicates my mind is no longer my own. Pure mental I am, pure mental indeed.

Tommy Craig - architect of St Mirren's downfall

He is always on his mind.