Kian Williams

English right winger for Keflavik in the Icelandic league.

Girlfriend is from Grimsby and wants to move back home (she is my cousin hence how I know).

2 year deal with option of a 3rd year.

95% done deal, be announced either next week or week after once the contracts with Hendrie and Coke are announced.

You’re welcome.

whats he Like Mikoo?

Good direct runner, likes to get to the byline and put a cross in. Good technique too, likes a good free kick. Not seen him play since his Leicester u18 days a few years ago but has done well in Iceland so should be a good player for us

I can't be alone in having a wry smile that Keflavik appear to be sponsored by Netto.

As a kid, there literally was nothing more damaging to your playground standing than turning up with your PE kit in a bright yellow and black NETTO carrier bag or having someone point out that an item of your packed lunch was from said shop.

Of course I could well be wrong on this - however unless PH has had him over here on trial during their off season I doubt he's seen him play or knows much about the lads' performances over the last couple of years.
Paul Hurst is no Holloway & won't be handing out 2/3 year contracts on a whim & hoping for the best.
Why wait until Hendrie's & Coke's contracts are sorted - neither of who are wingers?

Very disappointing that this rumour doesn't involve sitings at an A180 petrol station, clandestine meetings at Millfields or (God forbid) prominent local chippies.

Quoted from diehardmariner

I can't be alone in having a wry smile that Keflavik appear to be sponsored by Netto.

As a kid, there literally was nothing more damaging to your playground standing than turning up with your PE kit in a bright yellow and black NETTO carrier bag or having someone point out that an item of your packed lunch was from said shop.

I remember my niece who was about 10 at the time telling me a joke Netto carriers. Not political correct. 😆

Very good at getting fouled by the looks of it

Quoted from diehardmariner

I can't be alone in having a wry smile that Keflavik appear to be sponsored by Netto.

As a kid, there literally was nothing more damaging to your playground standing than turning up with your PE kit in a bright yellow and black NETTO carrier bag or having someone point out that an item of your packed lunch was from said shop.

I'm still getting over the torment brought about by the 'No Frills' crisps that used to turn up in my packed lunch as a kid.

Still, it could be worse. A kid I went to school with at Lindsey was, shall we say, of a very sizeable build. He was a big Liverpool fan, and one weekend had made a trip to Anfield to watch them play with his mum who had very kindly bought him the full, brand new away strip - that unusual mid-90s cream affair with the round collar.

Anyway, the following week he'd proudly packed it into his PE bag to wear during during the football session we were due to have. The sniggers began in the changing room when it became apparent that he hadn't quite got the sizing right - it looked literally painted on, except for the bit between his waistline and his belly button where the material couldn't quite stretch.

You know how brutal these environments can be at the best of times - kids can be such cúnts (hands up, I was no angel). You could hear all the various píss taking going on in the background, duly ignored by the kid - it was all water off a very fat duck's back.

But then he turned round.

He'd had his shirt printed with one of his favourite player's names. Now, Liverpool had some decent players in their ranks in those days - Robbie Fowler, Steve McManaman, Stan Collymore. Did he opt for any of those? No. His favourite player was number 15, Patrick Berger.

Everyone píssed themselves laughing, heckling the poor kid relentlessly. The fat lad whose kit didn't fit had only gone and got "BURGER" written on his shirt - with not so much of an ounce of irony intended. He'd have been better off getting the home kit, as at least it would have detracted from the red hue his face duly turned - whether it was anger or embarrassment, or a mix both, I'll never know.

Harsh times.