What’s with all this polite shit? Fuck them. Fuck Glory and all their “proud history”, founded in 1996 bullshit, as though their Notts Country or fucking Sheffield Wednesday or some historic, “we’re better than you” snobby bullshit, when in reality they were one of the only NSL clubs who managed to somehow not shit the bed.
Fuck their fans, caught in some backwater timewarp. Relics of the past. Like those Amazonian tribesmen they still stumble over who haven’t invented fire yet and shoot arrows at helicopters and quite rightly kill dumbfuck Christian missionaries who try to save them. Cocksuckers who still wear pork pie hats and giggle like schoolgirls over their “you’re shit… ahh” goalie baiting and won’t change it because it’s “Shed culture”. Shed culture? What a fucking oxymoron that is. Well I suppose if your only contact with the outside world is a bush telegraph across the fucking Nullabor, then that’s the “culture” you get.
Fuck that dreary backwater of a country town, built on sand, where not a single bloody thing of note has happened since Alan Bond messed around on yacht about a century ago. Perth has become a petrie dish experiment in what happens when humans are isolated from the rest of the civilised world. Obviously the end result is inbred parochiality and a sort of crazed sun burnt degeneracy.
You can be polite. I’ll say their cunts and hope they never win a trophy again.