If i were asked what the high points in my life were, i'd ponder and tell you about the times when i made myself proud; like when i got the grades to go to university, or when i graduated from Uni, or when i played with the infamous Topshelf in the Victoria Hall, or when i captained my university football team, or when i found out that the g-spot actually does exist. Then i'd restructure my answer because the smell of cheese from my first reeked too bad, so i'd tell you that i was happiest when bouncing about on Murray Hall hill drinking buckfast in the sun, or when i'm bouncing about in the arches to my favourite hardstyle tunes, or when i'm bouncing about my bed in search of the g-spot! But, in built in every Crom alongside the ability to smell the blood of a Parton from a half mile away is a passion for the beautiful game that outweighs even the truest avochies desire for his own sister! So What was the high point in my life? When we used to play football up the big park from dusk till dawn.
A generation of Croms all dedicated to the cause! There wasn't a dream in Cromarty that didnt involve a Yellow and Black top, an intense smell of deep heat, a lop sided football pitch and a crowd of racist men shouting abuse at anyone who didnt bare the gene of a Crom! Every Cromarty youngster wanted to play for his town, every Cromarty youngster wanted to fill the shoes of those fine athletes that graced our football pitch; Wambat, The Hill Brothers, John Boy and Murdo Mackay, all legends in their own right! That's what we wanted, that's what we dreamed of.
Unfortunately, a new millenium brought with it a dark age, and our team died alongside the skate park, the legion, the local bank and the irreplaceable petrol pumps outside the Mace. Without these landmark attractions Cromarty had become nothing more than a skitter stained pair of boxers on the Black Isle living off the legend of Hugh Miller. We were tossed to the wash basket without a box of Daz in sight! But deep within us remained that burning passion for the success of Cromarty F.C. and we climbed slowly from the bottom of the dirty laundrey pile to carry on the legacy that our forefathers started, and after 3 hard seasons, Cromarty F.C. are back on track!
Fortrose F.C. 4 - 4 Cromarty F.C.
St George's Park held venue to the first big derby match of the season, but it done little in the way of shielding us from the treachercus winds that could have blown the 50s out Jade Goody's rigid hands! The match started evenly and 10 minutes passed without a goal from either side... Cromarty couldn't have hoped for more when Jason Hill found himself in space with an easy through ball to Phil Macdonald who was leaving the Fortrose defence for dead. He unleashed a furious shot right at the keeper but the ferocity of the dig meant that keeper Jared Simpson could only parry straight back to the oncomming wing man who stabbed his second effort into the back of the net. Cromarty had made a dream start but true to Cromatry form it wasn't long before we were trailing.
The gales were blowing and causing our young keeper Craig all sorts of problems. In quick succession Fortrose scored two freak goals from outside the area. We continued to attack and Jason Hill came close with a left foot dig that sailed past the post. Jason continued to look impressive and again came close when he ran free of the Fortrose defence like they were the Fortrose police force, but his left foot drive was saved at the near post. Cromarty paid for not taking their chances as Fortrose went 3-1 up with a cheeky dink over the keeper.
The boy from Banjo island were not discrouraged by the scoreline at half time though because we played well in the first half. The second half did not start well however as Fortrose went 4-1 up with a scrappy goal. Luckily, Bob had planned ahead and instead of using normal water at half time, he sourced his water from Townlands Park where the h2o is blessed by the touch of god himself! Between the holy townlands park water and Phil Macdonald moving into centre of the park, the game was turned on its head. Cromarty piled on the pressure and Colin and Jason were causing Fortrose problems down the left flank. Their hard work paid off as Jason floated in a beautiful ball for Philip Macdonald to rise up like a salmon and power a header home. 4-2.
Fortrose looked like a team bewildered as Cromarty mesmorised them with some beautiful football. The Parton Army looked even more likely to get a result from the game with the introduction of Kevin 'spunky' Mcdonald as he terrorized the Fortrose defence with his blistering pace. Thankfully for Albert Ratcliffe, who had just missed an open goal from around a yard out a minute earlier, Spunky's Pace paid off as he won Cromarty a chance to go one goal behind from 12 yards out. Despite plea's from his team mates Philip Macdonalds stubborn ignorance reigned true as he demanded penalty taking rights to seal a Hat-trick in his first game of the season. He sent the keeper the wrong way and gave Cromarty a life line with 15 minutes remaining.
Two minutes after pulling it back to 4-3, Cromarty equalized through Kevin Mcdonald as he burried his volley past the Fortrose keeper. Cromarty carried on in their search for a winner and Greig Thompson came close to sealing the victory for Cromarty with a thunderous volley from the edge of the area. Fortrose gave next to nothing the whole of the second half but almost stole it at the death as Jamie Macdonald whipped a wicked ball into the box which was met by the head of Kai, and if it weren't for the heroics of Craig, Cromarty would have left empty handed.
The game finshed 4-4 and left Fortrose with a bitter taste in their mouths, although they were thankful that there wasnt any extra time on the clock.
Cromarty are once again looking like a side to beat; the introduction of some new faces like Brian at centre back, Colin at left mid, Stuart at right back and Darren up front are giving the regulars a fight for their positions. Not to mention Jason Hill continuing his rich vain of form, Brian Camerons Passion for the success of Cromarty and the young guns like Kevin Macdonald and Calum Mackay bursting through into the team.
Lets all hope that this young side can attract the large crowds that Cromarty are used to in their fight for silverware this season.
Tuesday 24 March 2009
Wednesday 4 March 2009
Good day ladies and gentlemen and welcome to my second entry into this rather pish blog site. its been a hectic week for Philly the Willy Macdonald, and its thrown up more pointless discussion matter than an episode of loose women on acid.
As most of you may know by now, Cromarty seen the return of Philip Macdonald, begrudingly i've had to come home because the cash flow dried up like madonna's wrinkly axe wound and i can't afford to pay rent, but there has been a few recent events that have made my return a little more bearable.
Firstly, inverness decided to book Sander Van Doorn for my home coming party, a night which promises to be a gooden despite the prospect of tarzan jaw and shrinky winky syndrome! I started working for Orange on tuesday and found out today that they're going to be sending me down to Newcastle for a week so i can unleash fury on the geordies. I also found out the Ross-Shire ameteur league starts in less than a month and Fortrose are looking for a cocky, arrogant, and downright sexy striker. Me.
The highlight of the week however, was a juicey night out with Crazy Craig and co in our nations capital. On the menu for the night was a bottle of Tonic Disgrace and whiskey, i.e. rocket fuel, my dancing sandals that never fail to impress the crowds, Hooper's awful sandwhich that he didnt get to eat (sorry), Craigs sniffer dog nose which is said to be able to detect a single squirt of female fluids from over a kilmotre away and a builders hat - just in case . All and all the night was a raving success but the final chapter had me pickled. Suprisingly enough, this was the doing of an incredible young woman who has made the game phase an uncertain, mysterious, and difficult task.
I was lost and continue to be lost in this game phase, which incidentally is an area of expertise where im am usually unrivalled. and this phase which most women would claim is pointless, but speaking on behalf of every man in the world, women haven't got a fucking clue. Games need to be played and rules need to be followed in order to keep you interested. Everyone loves to achieve, no matter what the challenge! Be a tricky crossword, or the high score on pacman or just fucking as many people as you can. lte challenge, ad playing games is all about making yoursef a challenge for the other person to keep them interested.
I have decided this is too vast a subject to tackle in one go, and may well pick it up in the future. Right now i feel like Sarah Jessica Parker, except without a veruca on my face.
To be continued people.
As most of you may know by now, Cromarty seen the return of Philip Macdonald, begrudingly i've had to come home because the cash flow dried up like madonna's wrinkly axe wound and i can't afford to pay rent, but there has been a few recent events that have made my return a little more bearable.
Firstly, inverness decided to book Sander Van Doorn for my home coming party, a night which promises to be a gooden despite the prospect of tarzan jaw and shrinky winky syndrome! I started working for Orange on tuesday and found out today that they're going to be sending me down to Newcastle for a week so i can unleash fury on the geordies. I also found out the Ross-Shire ameteur league starts in less than a month and Fortrose are looking for a cocky, arrogant, and downright sexy striker. Me.
The highlight of the week however, was a juicey night out with Crazy Craig and co in our nations capital. On the menu for the night was a bottle of Tonic Disgrace and whiskey, i.e. rocket fuel, my dancing sandals that never fail to impress the crowds, Hooper's awful sandwhich that he didnt get to eat (sorry), Craigs sniffer dog nose which is said to be able to detect a single squirt of female fluids from over a kilmotre away and a builders hat - just in case . All and all the night was a raving success but the final chapter had me pickled. Suprisingly enough, this was the doing of an incredible young woman who has made the game phase an uncertain, mysterious, and difficult task.
I was lost and continue to be lost in this game phase, which incidentally is an area of expertise where im am usually unrivalled. and this phase which most women would claim is pointless, but speaking on behalf of every man in the world, women haven't got a fucking clue. Games need to be played and rules need to be followed in order to keep you interested. Everyone loves to achieve, no matter what the challenge! Be a tricky crossword, or the high score on pacman or just fucking as many people as you can. lte challenge, ad playing games is all about making yoursef a challenge for the other person to keep them interested.
I have decided this is too vast a subject to tackle in one go, and may well pick it up in the future. Right now i feel like Sarah Jessica Parker, except without a veruca on my face.
To be continued people.
Thursday 26 February 2009
Wednesday 25 February 2009
Is there any improvement in 4 years?
Tonight, i compared sleeping with a woman on more than one occassion to eating school puddings. Incredible i know, and if you stay with me long enough, you'll find out how i managed this.
Firstly, let me explain why im back. After talking to some girl i know from school tonight, i was reminded of how i divulged almost all of my personal business online for pretty much anyone to read. After reading over it myself, i vomited in my mouth. Reluctantly i swallowed it back down as it was too small to make a big deal over, but yet large enough to make me boulk a second time. I was fairly impressed by the kind of physical reflex i could provoke simply by discharging my thoughts and opinions all over the net, and as i stared at my discharge through teary eyes i asked myself 'have i changed at all? have i grown? have i matured? am i still a bastard?' Thing is, i already know the answer to all of those questions; but you dont, so why dont i entertain the idea that someone will read this and let you find out for yourselves.
An incredible trait of mine is that i can talk openly and freely about my sexual roguery without care nor thought as to the repercussions. Apparently, other people share this talent of talking about my sexual roguery, however, it is done with care and deliberation specifically to create a repercussion. But that is neither here nor there. The matter i intended to discuss was my summer 05 pledge, to end all one night stands.
I was 18 years old, and had just passed through the digestive system of first year uni. Predictably, i had observed some disagreeable sites, come to grips with internal organs, passed through holes i shouldn't have, and at the end of it came out smelling like shite. I felt dirty and disgusted in myself, yet strangely proud. But at 18 i was matured man, and my decision was set in stone that no more would i allow myself to fall victum to deadliest of sins.
How did i do? Brilliantly. With a quick check of the rule book and a cheeky change of plan, i managed to avoid the one night stand, and instead, opted for the three or four night stand. It worked perfectly; but it was completely cheating. If your on a diet, you don't help yourself to a cheeky chocolate sunday, let alone two or three. I had become the Jamie Ricketts of the sex world, helping myself to sex in exactly the same way Mr Ricketts would help himself to a third or fourth bowl of custard from the school canteen. It wasn't that nice, it was fat and lumpy and there was absolutely no need to dine until he felt physically sick, but fuck it, he'd do it anyway. He didnt know the next time the menu would toss him a warm gooey mess and nor did i.
"have i changed at all? have i grown up? have i matured? Am i still a bastard?"
You can always count on me!
With Love, Your Voice
Phil Macdonald
Firstly, let me explain why im back. After talking to some girl i know from school tonight, i was reminded of how i divulged almost all of my personal business online for pretty much anyone to read. After reading over it myself, i vomited in my mouth. Reluctantly i swallowed it back down as it was too small to make a big deal over, but yet large enough to make me boulk a second time. I was fairly impressed by the kind of physical reflex i could provoke simply by discharging my thoughts and opinions all over the net, and as i stared at my discharge through teary eyes i asked myself 'have i changed at all? have i grown? have i matured? am i still a bastard?' Thing is, i already know the answer to all of those questions; but you dont, so why dont i entertain the idea that someone will read this and let you find out for yourselves.
An incredible trait of mine is that i can talk openly and freely about my sexual roguery without care nor thought as to the repercussions. Apparently, other people share this talent of talking about my sexual roguery, however, it is done with care and deliberation specifically to create a repercussion. But that is neither here nor there. The matter i intended to discuss was my summer 05 pledge, to end all one night stands.
I was 18 years old, and had just passed through the digestive system of first year uni. Predictably, i had observed some disagreeable sites, come to grips with internal organs, passed through holes i shouldn't have, and at the end of it came out smelling like shite. I felt dirty and disgusted in myself, yet strangely proud. But at 18 i was matured man, and my decision was set in stone that no more would i allow myself to fall victum to deadliest of sins.
How did i do? Brilliantly. With a quick check of the rule book and a cheeky change of plan, i managed to avoid the one night stand, and instead, opted for the three or four night stand. It worked perfectly; but it was completely cheating. If your on a diet, you don't help yourself to a cheeky chocolate sunday, let alone two or three. I had become the Jamie Ricketts of the sex world, helping myself to sex in exactly the same way Mr Ricketts would help himself to a third or fourth bowl of custard from the school canteen. It wasn't that nice, it was fat and lumpy and there was absolutely no need to dine until he felt physically sick, but fuck it, he'd do it anyway. He didnt know the next time the menu would toss him a warm gooey mess and nor did i.
"have i changed at all? have i grown up? have i matured? Am i still a bastard?"
You can always count on me!
With Love, Your Voice
Phil Macdonald
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