Performance Art Predictions

This week I will be mostly doing predictions in style of characters from a major budget fantasy epic. (Note: This may run out of steam early on – the bits where I crowbar in Mark Noble and Scott Parker’s names may be too much for some for instance, so feel free to skip to the actual predicted results, then ignore, place bet, win money).

Hull v Blackburn: (Courtesy of frightened villager): “Argh!! Fear the demon of Hull… he has the face of some minion of the devil, look away from the beady eyes! Look away from this demon who disguises himself under the cloak of a poorly trained jester – fear that Jimmy of Bullard, fear him and his wagging finger… (calming down) Thankfully he’s knacked his knee so there be only the strange mystery of ‘The McShane’ to fear for Hull this weekend, his curse is to be consistently confused as to which side he fights for, poor idiot boy. Hopefully fate is kind and he only costs them a few of these things that fancy folk in Sky Sports Towers call ‘points’. It’d be 1-1.”

Man Utd v Aston Villa: (In the style of noble wizard) “Beware the realm of the red nosed dark lord and his wicked cry of ‘theresnodouaboutha’. Placate him first with some mead, then… well more mead. Should this tactic work for the army of Villains led by the paranoid Irishman, they may yet sneak some solace for the theatre decked in shellfish… it usually ends in defeat for them here though, and dark times may be ahead for the cursed Sir Steve ‘Forever Ginge’ of Sidwell… 3-1.”



Birmingham v West Ham: (Shakespearean actor as an evil king) “Release the Bowyer!” (insert crowd gasping and several men vomiting at the sight they see in front of them) “Ah yes, cower before the horrid sight that no Noble man nor oddly haired nosey Parker can stop in its tracks. Behold the ugly face of this game of ball and foot.”
**(At this point the director yells cut and the Shakespearean actor reveals his true Cockney accent) “But then again their defence is shiiiiiiiiite innit, farck it, get down the bookies and put 20 quid on 1-2 West ‘Am.”

Bolton v Man City: (Shakespearean actor as a good king) “Release the Brazilian trickster who so plays with his people’s emotions. Let him run this O’Brien fool back to whatever corner of Kilburn he came from. Victory to the New Kingdom! 0-2.”

Burnley v Fulham: (As shouted by a commoner army general made good) “On my wuddy command, welease the Duffer, the bwundering Viking and the unpwedicatable Zamowa on these Buwnwey ‘alf wits.” 1-2.

Sunderland v Portsmouth: (As told by a Norse god-fearing monk) “O’Hara, Boateng, Kanu, can you hear me Kanu, can you hear me? Repent, repent! Give up this earthly need for riches and play for Portsmouth instead where we do not trifle with monetary gain and play merely for rewards beyond gold coins. I speak of such things as Danielle Lloyd, pleasing the peasant fanbase and... and… ah… line… (in amongst struggling for another positive he admits it’ll most likely be a home win, 2-0) …



Chelsea v Everton: (Courtesy of American actor who can’t do a decent English accent so doesn’t bother and has Arnie-esque one liners thrown into the script as he can’t remember words with more than two syllables). “Repent this, asshole… 3-1”.

Tottenham v Wolverhampton: (Courtesy of American actor who couldn’t do a decent English accent before but who’s now two months into the shoot and making a vague effort). “Hear the words of Robertus Keaneuss and fear his shiny shell-suited wrath, he will have his revenge on his former kingdom… asshole! Four-zip, get my latte.”



Sunday
Liverpool v Arsenal: (As told by a wizard who believes he’s above this whole production) “In this ancient home of victory, now doused all too often in defeat, look towards the top corner lair of the silver-suited Redknapp Boy. Once a promising warrior, who succumbed to injuries resulting from armour three sizes too small for him; when he says ‘top top’ not for the first, not for the second, but for the third time it will be the signal that battle will commence.
The gypsy Russian will have to be watched, the babbling home centre back who speaks in tongues may well find him too much to cope with. The only hope perhaps for the home nation is the two foreigners chiselled from glass, Torres and Aquilani. 2-2 I predict, 2-2 and Redknapp’s knees to burst from lack of blood at half time.”

Later folks, next week's predictions will be in the style of a latter-career Steven Seagal movie. Expect about 150 words then.

JJ, ODF