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Moore in running for Barnsley job.


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33 minutes ago, nevthelodgemoorowl said:

It could finally come to pass !

  1. Roland Nilsson
  2. Roland Nilsson
  3. Roland Nilsson
  4. Roland Nilsson
  5. Roland Nilsson
  6. Roland Nilsson
  7. Roland Nilsson
  8. Roland Nilsson
  9. Roland Nilsson
  10. Roland Nilsson
  11. Roland Nilsson

 

Subs  Roland Nilsson; Roland Nilsson; Roland Nilsson; Roland Nilsson; Roland Nilsson; Roland Nilsson; Roland Nilsson.

 

Manager  Roland Nilsson.

No 9 is David Hirst.

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Imagine this thread as a scene in a pub 40 years ago, it's called The Owl...

 

A few people sat in the corner, grumbling about how Wednesday are rubbish and a bit of a joke. But they've had enough of it for the week, conversation has slowly turned to whether any of the young lads can hack it. A couple of old lads playing Pool. The barman stands behind the bar, cleaning a glass.

 

Door slams open.

 

'You'll never hear what I've heard! The manager's in the running for the Barnsley job!'

 

Everyone carries on with what they're doing, as no-one's sure what this means.

 

There's a bit of grumbling from the corner about just how Barnsley got to be so much better than Wednesday. A few grunts of unlikely, they'll want someone else. Alan in the corner pipes up 'he's just been mentioned by Dodgy Dave the bookie, nowt more'. No one hears, apart from RD in the corner, but everyone assumes he's grumbling about something he's just read in the paper. 

 

Some drunken fool, waiting for their fish and chips to arrive, pipes up? 'Where did you hear this from? Are you stirring the pot?'

 

'Great news! He's rubbish! Played players in the wrong position at least once last season' pipes up Mick in the corner. Everyone thought he was asleep, but apparently not. 

 

Ash points out that he couldn't give an eff. He's waiting to play pool.

 

The loud arrival points out that he doesn't stir, but the person asking where he'd heard his information obviously stirs. 

 

A priest, nursing a whisky, pipes up with an ecumenical matter.

 

It all gets a bit grumpy as The owl from Otley is hungry.

 

The resident pub ghost makes a passable attempt at a joke.

 

The bringer of news is asked for more information. The bringer of news responds with 'can't you read (or in this story, hear)?

 

The pool game continues. A drunken conversation about spreadsheets starts up, even though they haven't been invented yet.

 

Chris Wilder is mentioned, and a stray dart smashes into the wall.

 

Small arguments start up about who said what, how long tea will be, and whether it's more likely Dodgy Dave the bookie is trying to drum up custom and attention, or whether Markus Schoop is the man to take the helm. 

 

Paz misses the black, piping up that Eddie Howe should be 110-1. Like his chances of winning the Pool game now. 

 

Some bloke from Netherlodgemoore bangs his glass down, starts singing the Nilsson song in the corner, clearly refusing to acknowledge the 'no 9 is David Hirst' line, windows start smashing, glasses everywhere, chaos reigns.

 

 

 

 

 

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3 hours ago, kirksandallowl said:


Doubt Wilder would be up for a job where players a picked by a spreadsheet and given to him. 

I was alluding to the fact that every man and his dog will be linked with the job.🙂

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10 minutes ago, Otley Owl said:

Imagine this thread as a scene in a pub 40 years ago, it's called The Owl...

 

A few people sat in the corner, grumbling about how Wednesday are rubbish and a bit of a joke. But they've had enough of it for the week, conversation has slowly turned to whether any of the young lads can hack it. A couple of old lads playing Pool. The barman stands behind the bar, cleaning a glass.

 

Door slams open.

 

'You'll never hear what I've heard! The manager's in the running for the Barnsley job!'

 

Everyone carries on with what they're doing, as no-one's sure what this means.

 

There's a bit of grumbling from the corner about just how Barnsley got to be so much better than Wednesday. A few grunts of unlikely, they'll want someone else. Alan in the corner pipes up 'he's just been mentioned by Dodgy Dave the bookie, nowt more'. No one hears, apart from RD in the corner, but everyone assumes he's grumbling about something he's just read in the paper. 

 

Some drunken fool, waiting for their fish and chips to arrive, pipes up? 'Where did you hear this from? Are you stirring the pot?'

 

'Great news! He's rubbish! Played players in the wrong position at least once last season' pipes up Mick in the corner. Everyone thought he was asleep, but apparently not. 

 

Ash points out that he couldn't give an eff. He's waiting to play pool.

 

The loud arrival points out that he doesn't stir, but the person asking where he'd heard his information obviously stirs. 

 

A priest, nursing a whisky, pipes up with an ecumenical matter.

 

It all gets a bit grumpy as The owl from Otley is hungry.

 

The resident pub ghost makes a passable attempt at a joke.

 

The bringer of news is asked for more information. The bringer of news responds with 'can't you read (or in this story, hear)?

 

The pool game continues. A drunken conversation about spreadsheets starts up, even though they haven't been invented yet.

 

Chris Wilder is mentioned, and a stray dart smashes into the wall.

 

Small arguments start up about who said what, how long tea will be, and whether it's more likely Dodgy Dave the bookie is trying to drum up custom and attention, or whether Markus Schoop is the man to take the helm. 

 

Paz misses the black, piping up that Eddie Howe should be 110-1. Like his chances of winning the Pool game now. 

 

Some bloke from Netherlodgemoore bangs his glass down, starts singing the Nilsson song in the corner, clearly refusing to acknowledge the 'no 9 is David Hirst' line, windows start smashing, glasses everywhere, chaos reigns.

 

 

 

 

 

Tl;dr.

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12 minutes ago, Otley Owl said:

Imagine this thread as a scene in a pub 40 years ago, it's called The Owl...

 

A few people sat in the corner, grumbling about how Wednesday are rubbish and a bit of a joke. But they've had enough of it for the week, conversation has slowly turned to whether any of the young lads can hack it. A couple of old lads playing Pool. The barman stands behind the bar, cleaning a glass.

 

Door slams open.

 

'You'll never hear what I've heard! The manager's in the running for the Barnsley job!'

 

Everyone carries on with what they're doing, as no-one's sure what this means.

 

There's a bit of grumbling from the corner about just how Barnsley got to be so much better than Wednesday. A few grunts of unlikely, they'll want someone else. Alan in the corner pipes up 'he's just been mentioned by Dodgy Dave the bookie, nowt more'. No one hears, apart from RD in the corner, but everyone assumes he's grumbling about something he's just read in the paper. 

 

Some drunken fool, waiting for their fish and chips to arrive, pipes up? 'Where did you hear this from? Are you stirring the pot?'

 

'Great news! He's rubbish! Played players in the wrong position at least once last season' pipes up Mick in the corner. Everyone thought he was asleep, but apparently not. 

 

Ash points out that he couldn't give an eff. He's waiting to play pool.

 

The loud arrival points out that he doesn't stir, but the person asking where he'd heard his information obviously stirs. 

 

A priest, nursing a whisky, pipes up with an ecumenical matter.

 

It all gets a bit grumpy as The owl from Otley is hungry.

 

The resident pub ghost makes a passable attempt at a joke.

 

The bringer of news is asked for more information. The bringer of news responds with 'can't you read (or in this story, hear)?

 

The pool game continues. A drunken conversation about spreadsheets starts up, even though they haven't been invented yet.

 

Chris Wilder is mentioned, and a stray dart smashes into the wall.

 

Small arguments start up about who said what, how long tea will be, and whether it's more likely Dodgy Dave the bookie is trying to drum up custom and attention, or whether Markus Schoop is the man to take the helm. 

 

Paz misses the black, piping up that Eddie Howe should be 110-1. Like his chances of winning the Pool game now. 

 

Some bloke from Netherlodgemoore bangs his glass down, starts singing the Nilsson song in the corner, clearly refusing to acknowledge the 'no 9 is David Hirst' line, windows start smashing, glasses everywhere, chaos reigns.

 

 

 

 

 


All sounds a bit too far fetched to me. lol

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Guest Hornsby
6 hours ago, stocksyuto said:

All because he was a target before we signed him, lazy journos as per usual

Err , bookies have a favourite and they are always wrong.

 

Disaster to lose him now.

 

Depends how honest Chansiri was with budget chat, too.

 

Bye Daz.

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