Creative accounting, la.
Their books are cooked.
Our potatoes are boiled.
City buys trophies.
Borat sells potatoes.
Their books are cooked.
Our potatoes are boiled.
Borat’s transfer fund?
Whatever the potato stall made.
“Which one’s City?”
“The expensive one, la.”
Same shirts. Same ball.
One ref asking for a transfer.

“Same shirts. One costs millions.The other smells of potatoes.”
“Nine–one? That’s not a result.
That’s a postcode, lad.”
Goodison Park · 3 September 1906 · First Division.
A joint-record eight-goal league defeat for City. Even the budget couldn’t save that one. City’s own match history ↗

“City let in nine. We let in eight.
Who’s the big club now, la?”
The Potato Cup · sometime in the 1930s, apparently.
Seven-goal defeat. One goal less embarrassing.
“And we did it on a potato budget, lad.”

Big money. Dodgy sums.
Honest spuds, la.
“City cooks the books.
Borat cooks the spuds, la.”
“Dodgy books.
Honest local potatoes.”
“City’s got lawyers.
We’ve got receipts, lad.”
Your pick only. No votes counted. No mates convinced.