Nah. It’s a fact.
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I feel dirty but I’ve always liked Tyson Goldsack. Can we fit him in? Even as a runner to get in the way as strategy?
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Yes fair point.
It’s clearly going to be very difficult after Craig Cameron’s comments today tbh.
Isn’t it obvious?
Because, Hawthorn. Derr.
That’s a big claim.
The dawn of time was over 14 billion years ago.
Even on Earth, I doubt there was too much gossip through the “Boring Billion” years of bacterial evolution, let alone all the way up to even as close as the last 100k years or so.
Oops, I hope you don’t mind facts infiltrating the Trade Thread.
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how many lawyer go to town on religious website?
I’ll be there in two weeks, too.
Hmmmmm…
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I 100% believe this twitter account.
Reason #3247 to trade in Dom Tyson:
If it doesn’t work out, we can always trade him out. Who can resist Tyson and a 3rd rounder?
I’ll see myself out.
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It’s Barrett’s account, isn’t it?!
All today’s posts read.
#uptodate
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Wingard is just waiting on Shiel to decline Essendons offer then we’ll be all over him like Noonan on a toilet after eating spicy food.
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It all starts tomorrow. So when you go to bed tonight …
.
.
‘Twas the night before Trade Day, when all thro’ AFL house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a Dahlhaus;
The stock lists were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Jackets soon would be there;
The players were nestled all snug in their (or someone else’s) beds,
While visions of spongy floors danc’d in their heads,
And Mama in her ‘kerchief, and I in my Bomber’s cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long trade week’s nap-
When out on the turn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the premiership window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters, and threw up the taut red sash.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a sleigh, and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver, causing the racket,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Jackets.
More rapid than Saad his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and call’d them by name:
“Now! Parker, now! Shiel, now! Martin, and Setterfielder (or something like that),
“On! Bont, on! Kelly, on! Tyson and Gumby;
“To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
“Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!”
So up to the Marvel roof-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of deals - and St. Jackets too:
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the stadium roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Jackets came with a bound:
He was dress’d all in jackets, from his head to his foot,
And his jackets were all tarnish’d with ashes and soot;
A bundle of trades was flung on his back,
He had a broad face, and a little round belly
That shook when he laugh’d, like a bowl full of Colliwobble jelly:
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave me to know we’d landed a spearhead.
He sprung to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew, like a Francis missile:
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out to the sun-
Happy trades to all, and Fark Carlton.
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You sir, I bow to
ANNOUCE GUMBY.
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yup
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To the contrary; the last week or so has delivered a predictable pattern of commentary from the trade gluttons.
And to think you disappeared for a while.
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Can someone find out who this trade whisperer guy is and punch him in the face for me. Ta.
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