"Tommo ?" <tommocubed@hotmail.com> found his true calling when they said
news:1123667897.373346.124290@g14g2000cwa.googlegroups.com:

> The toffees of Everton came unstuck against Villarreal last night.
> James Beattie (whose surname incidentally sounds a bit like
> "sweetie") gave the Spaniards something to chew over, but
> ultimately Josico's diving header has left David Moye's confectionary
> based team needing a very, very lucky bag for second leg on the 24th
> of August.
>
> It was the Glucose Meisters' first foray in the Champions League, and
> one which may leave a nasty taste in the mouth unless they can wrapper
> things up against a Villarreal team who will be relishing the mouth
> watering prospect of tasting Champions League success, and the lolly
> which that brings.
>
> The game itself seemed to centre mostly around the game of Association
> Football, with very little "pun fodder" to report. All the News
> Room could think of was that Yobo sounds a bit like those horrible
> little Hobo sweets, and our efforts to trace Everton players with
> names such as Thornton and Werther were fruitless, just like fruit
> salad sweeties which don't actually contain any fruit. The match then
> passed without further incident.

A well-researched historical post here Tommo. You're forgetting a lot of
our past players, especially from the late 1890's.

Noteworthy former toffees include Charlie Charlie Liquorice, a tall,
gangling centre-inside-diagonal-right-forward who gained a small amount
of notoriety for his attempt to put off Bertie Mudtwat of Bighill
Contrarians by stabbing his eyes out with liquorice shoelaces.

(The referee at the time caused controversy by being the first in
association history to reach for his card. After six more card-reaching
incidents between 1895 and 1898, Jeremiah Uriah Rennie went down in
history as the first actual referee to write a player's name down in his
book and proffer the then taboo yellow card. At least six spectators
died of righteous indignation on that occasion.)

Goalkeepers are, more often than not, noted for their idiosyncracies and
'Moustachioed' Merton Gadfly more than lived up to this stereotype. For
three long seasons, Gadfly insisted on taking his lucky 20 hundredweight
pile of rhubarb and chutney boiled sweets, stacking them behind the
goal-apparatus and throwing handfuls of them at his hapless defenders if
they made errors on his watch.

His Victorian sweet throwing was not only directed at his own team
either. Oh No!, lawks-a-lordy. On several occasions, he produced what
can only be described as boiled-sweet-singularities prior to opposition
corners by sucking copiously on a size-5-ball-sized pile of sweets which
he threw into an attacking player's path as a decoy ball.

One unfortunate attacker died in a candle-lit shiteheap of a hospital
with three nurses trying in vain to remove thousands of sweet-tasting
shards of rhubarb 'n' chutneys from his eyes and head.

Perhaps though, the greater part of our respect should be to Edwin
Berghaus-Toffee, the origin of our lovely nickname. This great
philanthropist who kindly donated his three teenage daughters as the
first Toffee-ladies.

In this age of politically-correct indulgence, it's probable that the
true romance of their original function would not be allowed. As well as
throwing poorly-manufactured Dickensian toffees into the massed throngs
of hairy 19th century grunters, these lovely ladies performed other
services.

Winners of the Golden Goal competition (guess the time of the first goal
to be scored and win a prize) would enjoy an hour long orgy of
pox-coated anal sex with the toffee lady of his choice.

In games where Everton had the upper hand and most of the action was in
the opposition's half, the toffee ladies would seek to redress this
action balance by heartily fellating the home side's goalkeeper into a
state of tremulous giddiment.

Sadly for one Everton keeper, during a frozen December game, the away
side made a quick breakaway and had a shot on target while Gertrude,
Gertram and Bertrude were sucking merrily away at the keeper's COCK in
an innocent, 'tis my duty kind of manner.

The goalkeeper, Brian Bootle-Germsmith, safely fell on the ball and
smothered the shot but also snapped his penis at the hilt on the icy
turf, ending a promising career and coining the term, 'Penalty Spot'
named after the exact location where his member was dismembered.

I hope this provides some insight into our confectionary-coloured-past
and possibly, one more reason to hate our very existence one iota less.