Here is a list of all the words and/or phrases that follow ‘Gary Megson’ when Google’s weird predictive search thing intervenes; wiki[pedia], pathetic fans, quotes, chants, wife, Manchester City, sacked, out, abuse, jokes.
It’s like someone scanned a suicide note and picked out the verbs.
Megson himself admits that he has hardly been a hit since arriving at the Reebok in 2007, which is as gross an understatement as if you were to say Bolton were not the most attractive footballing side you can watch of a weekend. Since their (2nd) promotion to the Premiership in 2001, Bolton have been used to survival in the top flight, subjecting a couple of high profile home scalps and annoying Arsene Wenger more than any other team. Right now, they epitomise the average Premiership club- no progress is better than mass regress.
Under Sam Allardyce in 2005, Bolton began to dream of perhaps being a mainstay of European club football after finishing 6th. A year earlier they had reached the League Cup final, only to lose to Middlesbrough. Things were rosier than Rafa Bentiez’s cheeks.
But after Big Sam left for ‘better things’ at Newcastle- there’s a story to bypass with the Grandkids- things went downhill for Wanderers. After a short spell with Sammy Lee (why?), they turned to Megson. And they haven’t looked back, or indeed forward, since.
Staying in the league is more important than anything else, especially if you’ve been there a while. Newcastle and Middlesbrough’s relegation(s) represented the absolute horror scenario for every manager, chairman and fan in club football. You only have to look at the weakened sides managers play in the two cup competitions to see that survival means more than silverware. Why? Money, of course, and status.
So Megson is a little stuck. Fans had hoped for a more successful team, but to do that he would compromise their Premiership status. Rock, hard place, etc. I think it’s all a little harsh. Sure, his record doesn’t exactly scream glitz or glamour; According to Wikipedia, his greatest achievements are getting West Bromich Albion to the Premiership- twice. (so therefore being relegated with them in between- but his record still has him in credit, just.)
The Bolton fans have accused him of not attempting to make any sort of relationship with them. How can you, really? How many Man United supporters can say they have some sort of relationship with Alex Fergusson? I think you’ll find the relationship works like this; win stuff, we like you. In my opinion it would have been even stranger if Megson did try and have a relationship with them- like a desperate step-dad bonding with his new children.
So here’s to you, Gary, and your tuft of hair. Keep going, and maybe do a power slide in front of the North Stand the next time you get a result at home. Just ignore the abuse, jokes, chants and indeed your wife in the doing so.
30 November 2009
23 November 2009
Flog - Cheat Pants
Poor Robbie Keane. In a week alone he has been the victim of not one but two heinous acts of handball, firstly in his nation’s failure to qualify for South Africa 2010 and then during his club’s 9-1 thrashing of Wigan on Sunday. Oh, Robbie, how the football Gods have turned their backs on you. You could be sitting on a plane in six months time, off to the World Cup to pit your abilities against the very best in the world, but, more immediately, you could have been part of a team that scored 9 without reply. No justice, none, none at all. Disgusting.
At least that is how our national newspapers are portraying it all. Paul Scharner’s handball in the lead up to his (consequently) meaningless effort is by no means anywhere near on a par with what Henry did in Paris during the week. The media were delighted there was even the slightest of links between the two incidents, in this case Keane, an unused substitute for Tottenham after his national duties, because had the Irish captain not been ‘involved’ it could have been even more tedious, like Henry and Scharner both wearing the same brand of pants. CHEAT pants. Yeah. That’s what they’ll say. Cheat pants.
The demolition of Wigan masked what was essentially another nudge in the direction of introducing video replays. In theory, it is so undoubtedly necessary that it baffles even the brainiest people at NASA why football’s governing body hasn’t at least attempted to test it out. And they are really clever, them NASA lot. Like, Clarke Carlisle clever.
The debate subsequently dragged it’s beaten and worn carcass into the weekend, limping onto Football Focus and in to the mouths of John Motson and the new boy presenter that Martin Keown has his eye on to be his next victim. After the stupid opening exchanges in which Motson pretends to be listening and new boy pretends he knows what he’s doing, the topic rears it’s head.
Then something amazing happened- Motson actually made a remark that made perfect sense for the first time since around Summertime, 1993. He argued that there are too many decisions people will want to go to the video referee, not just handballs or penalty decisions. And he is right, the old sheep. Last season it was all about goals that never were, balls crossing lines and tight offside decisions. Now it’s handball, diving and offsides.
How many stoppages can we really have in a game? According to no reasearch, the average attention span of an adult football fan is exactly 0.2 seconds and if there’s the slightest delay in proceedings we will all get so confused when watching it on TV it would be like watching Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon on iPod shuffle. Games would go on for hours, which would only please ITV because it could possibly mean endless amounts of adverts. They have no aversion to putting them on in the middle of games anyway, apparently…
Lee Dixon gave his typically level headed view; ‘…heaven forbid really, but I just hope something major- huge- happens at the World Cup, that would make people sit up and go; ‘right. We need this in. Now...’ while new boy just sat looking interested while keeping one eye behind the sofa in case Keown was lying in wait.
How much good will it do? Not a lot, probably. Well in terms of Fair Play, then endless good will be done. Oh, the doing of good there shall be. Good doings aplenty. But how could we really live with ourselves going into work on a Monday and shouting at your opposing fan friend; ‘that was never a penalty!’ only for him or her to reply; ‘you’re right, it wasn’t, and the game continued fairly’. Urgh, it’s enough to make you vom. Urgh.
At least that is how our national newspapers are portraying it all. Paul Scharner’s handball in the lead up to his (consequently) meaningless effort is by no means anywhere near on a par with what Henry did in Paris during the week. The media were delighted there was even the slightest of links between the two incidents, in this case Keane, an unused substitute for Tottenham after his national duties, because had the Irish captain not been ‘involved’ it could have been even more tedious, like Henry and Scharner both wearing the same brand of pants. CHEAT pants. Yeah. That’s what they’ll say. Cheat pants.
The demolition of Wigan masked what was essentially another nudge in the direction of introducing video replays. In theory, it is so undoubtedly necessary that it baffles even the brainiest people at NASA why football’s governing body hasn’t at least attempted to test it out. And they are really clever, them NASA lot. Like, Clarke Carlisle clever.
The debate subsequently dragged it’s beaten and worn carcass into the weekend, limping onto Football Focus and in to the mouths of John Motson and the new boy presenter that Martin Keown has his eye on to be his next victim. After the stupid opening exchanges in which Motson pretends to be listening and new boy pretends he knows what he’s doing, the topic rears it’s head.
Then something amazing happened- Motson actually made a remark that made perfect sense for the first time since around Summertime, 1993. He argued that there are too many decisions people will want to go to the video referee, not just handballs or penalty decisions. And he is right, the old sheep. Last season it was all about goals that never were, balls crossing lines and tight offside decisions. Now it’s handball, diving and offsides.
How many stoppages can we really have in a game? According to no reasearch, the average attention span of an adult football fan is exactly 0.2 seconds and if there’s the slightest delay in proceedings we will all get so confused when watching it on TV it would be like watching Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon on iPod shuffle. Games would go on for hours, which would only please ITV because it could possibly mean endless amounts of adverts. They have no aversion to putting them on in the middle of games anyway, apparently…
Lee Dixon gave his typically level headed view; ‘…heaven forbid really, but I just hope something major- huge- happens at the World Cup, that would make people sit up and go; ‘right. We need this in. Now...’ while new boy just sat looking interested while keeping one eye behind the sofa in case Keown was lying in wait.
How much good will it do? Not a lot, probably. Well in terms of Fair Play, then endless good will be done. Oh, the doing of good there shall be. Good doings aplenty. But how could we really live with ourselves going into work on a Monday and shouting at your opposing fan friend; ‘that was never a penalty!’ only for him or her to reply; ‘you’re right, it wasn’t, and the game continued fairly’. Urgh, it’s enough to make you vom. Urgh.
17 November 2009
Flog - Facebook, football and Mike Watson's Mum
Have you heard about this Facebook thing? It’s crazy- apparently it’s this website you join which can simultaneously distract you from any sort of activity and create the illusion that you are being sociable with your friends, who are also in the ‘book, when talking to their Faces online. It’s got somewhere around 20 trillion members, or something. No? Me neither.
But oh Hayward, I hear you collectively not say, are you not on this Facebook, rendering your opening blab totally void? My answer, of course is yes. I am on there. I was on there the very second before I started writing this. In fact, it’s still on my toolbar. The second question you may be not asking is how on Earth there can be 20 trillion members when there are only 6 million beings…on Earth. And some of them are babies, or technophobes, or people who have yet to discover texting let alone the Web.
The answer is hilarious. People set up fake profiles. As if their (my) own sad lives (life) aren’t enough, they (not me this time) feel the need to live out another life. Suh is the nature of Facebook, they can, because it’s all electronic. It’s all pixels. I’m nowhere near as attractive as my profile picture suggests. Nor are you. Trust me, you’re not.
Example: a while ago I saw a profile for ‘Mike Watson’s Mum’. Which is fucking hilarious. Especially if she made it herself.
So what’s this got to do with football? I’ll tell you what it’s got to do with football, if you’d just stop checking your Wall on your iPhone for one second. Or your Blackberry. In fact, if you have the latter, you might be interested to know I’ve made an ‘App’ for you stupid phone- I call it the ‘Look where you’re going when you’re making that annoying clicking sound on your Shitberry.’ It’s going to take off, big style.
I found a great profile for ex Tottenham boss Martin Jol. The photo of him is typical Jol- hard man with a hint of sex appeal for housewives. I added him as a friend. Yeah, so? I’ve also got Alan Kennedy- Dr. Kennedy from Neighbours. I don’t care. Pride never came into my social agenda.
Under the About Me section it has ‘I am a big football coach and a ferry’- which explains what is written in the Activities section; ‘Football, Crossing the Channel’. A perfect summation of what he probably said to the wife when he moved from Tottenham to Hamburg.
Obviously fake, it paved the way for me to search out other footballer’s names. Inevitably, some profiles are locked or hidden until a friend request is accepted (which by the way was not submitted), like that of Ben Foster, who presumably didn’t want anyone other than his ‘friends’ to see ‘overrated goalkeeper, lolz!’ in his About Me. If no profile is found, groups are brought to your attention. Most of them range from ‘Frank Lampard- Chelsea Legend’ to ‘Frank Lampard is a fat bastard’. And people wonder about apathy in this country.
So, with all this in mind, here are the Facebook highlights I found when I typed in the names of the first choice England XI, not according to Ian Wright, who is becoming ever more intolerable when breathing let alone spewing words on screen for us to digest and ignore.
Robert Green: Firstly, there are a lot of people with the name Robert Green. Damn you all for making it so hard to sift through the shit. As it turns out, there are no actual profiles set up for him (boo) but nearly a zillion groups for ‘Robert Green for England’. Capello isn’t swayed by reputations, guys. Unless…
Glen Johnson: Lots of people, again, but at least he has a noticeably awful fake profile. The picture shows him shaking Rafa Benitez’s hand after signing for Liverpool. It’s rubbish, though, as no personal information is on there (boo again), although one deluded moron has written ‘hope your fit for saturday against city, you are an amazing player’. I’m sure he appreciates your comments, now back to your cell.
John Terry: Brilliant! The first of many that I click on is a somewhat neglected profile, with little work put into it, however his one solitary friend is Michael Ballack. It’s a frightening world when you think about it. Even scarier when you see one that has been maintained, including his About Me: ‘Hi my name is john terry (JT) yoy have probab;y seen me play for Chelsera fc (the best football club) who I hold close to my heart.’ That’s nice. Obviously never held English lessons as close, though. Ironically, the one ‘fan page’ he has joined is this beauty: ‘Fake Profiles for Celebrities- Never be Fooled Again!’.
Rio Ferdinand: The first one? ‘Rio Ferdinand. Network: Thailand’. Failure to launch on that one. Another? His friends include the entire United team. That’s correct. The entire team. Even O’Shea, who has no friends in real life, let alone on Facebook. No funny profile quotes of real mention, but I’m certainly a fan of the group ‘Rio Ferdinand= Twat’. Simple but effective, like the man himself.
Ashley Cole: Uh-oh. Lots of groups to talk about, ones with names beyond reason, apart from ‘Ashley Cole really is a wanker’. Brilliantly, on one profile, the Relationship Status is ‘It’s Complicated’. The only realistic (yet still horribly forged) page has ‘Ashley’ describing himself as ‘happily married’ and ‘enjoys a laff with mates’. Good old Ashley. As if you’ve got any fucking friends.
Gareth Barry: Poor Gary Barry. It seems he is so dull even Facebook fakers don’t want him. However, one closed profile has him enjoying a Birthday cake while on a night out with his librarian friends. Very dull. As for groups, who on Earth made ‘Gareth Barry Wannabees’, and who the fuck are the 10 that joined?
Frank Lampard: Apart from the polarising group names, his reception is generally positive on the profile front, including the stand out page which contains his favourite films. ‘click, harry pooter, iron man’. What??????????????
Steven Gerrard: Thousands. Literally thousands. But the stand out one has to be the one that contains this: ‘\m/ Alcohol doesn't solve any problems, but if you think again, neither does Milk’. Never more relevant after what happened in the summer, which didn’t actually happen, of course. His other favourite quotes include many snippets of Andy Gray’s commentary over his stupendous goals. So self indulgent, Stevie.
Theo Walcott: Perhaps too young to even sign up, but what’s this? Ah, something that makes total sense. His page has one thing on it’s Wall- a photo he has been tagged in- under the heading ‘giveyourfriendanosebleed.com.’ Totally normal, yeah. Ok.
Wayne Rooney: Harsh. One picture is just of Shrek. Unless he put it on himself… Even harsher, the group: ‘Wayne Rooney is overated’. Not only does it have members, those people have actually justified their opinion with lines such as ‘hiz got no skill and if he woz brazilian no1 would have herd of him!!!’. But he’s not, and people have, and he’s pretty much the only chance England have of winning the World Cup.
Emile Heskey: one has a real photo of him, but it’s locked. Devastated. And all the groups are in appreciation of the big wall up front for England. Nondescript both on the field and on the internet, which is fairly difficult seeing as even Mike Watson’s Mum is known.
There you have it. A terrible world we live in summed up in 11 descriptions of stupid people’s spare time. Then again, in my own time I’ve actively searched them. Everyone hates Facebook.
But oh Hayward, I hear you collectively not say, are you not on this Facebook, rendering your opening blab totally void? My answer, of course is yes. I am on there. I was on there the very second before I started writing this. In fact, it’s still on my toolbar. The second question you may be not asking is how on Earth there can be 20 trillion members when there are only 6 million beings…on Earth. And some of them are babies, or technophobes, or people who have yet to discover texting let alone the Web.
The answer is hilarious. People set up fake profiles. As if their (my) own sad lives (life) aren’t enough, they (not me this time) feel the need to live out another life. Suh is the nature of Facebook, they can, because it’s all electronic. It’s all pixels. I’m nowhere near as attractive as my profile picture suggests. Nor are you. Trust me, you’re not.
Example: a while ago I saw a profile for ‘Mike Watson’s Mum’. Which is fucking hilarious. Especially if she made it herself.
So what’s this got to do with football? I’ll tell you what it’s got to do with football, if you’d just stop checking your Wall on your iPhone for one second. Or your Blackberry. In fact, if you have the latter, you might be interested to know I’ve made an ‘App’ for you stupid phone- I call it the ‘Look where you’re going when you’re making that annoying clicking sound on your Shitberry.’ It’s going to take off, big style.
I found a great profile for ex Tottenham boss Martin Jol. The photo of him is typical Jol- hard man with a hint of sex appeal for housewives. I added him as a friend. Yeah, so? I’ve also got Alan Kennedy- Dr. Kennedy from Neighbours. I don’t care. Pride never came into my social agenda.
Under the About Me section it has ‘I am a big football coach and a ferry’- which explains what is written in the Activities section; ‘Football, Crossing the Channel’. A perfect summation of what he probably said to the wife when he moved from Tottenham to Hamburg.
Obviously fake, it paved the way for me to search out other footballer’s names. Inevitably, some profiles are locked or hidden until a friend request is accepted (which by the way was not submitted), like that of Ben Foster, who presumably didn’t want anyone other than his ‘friends’ to see ‘overrated goalkeeper, lolz!’ in his About Me. If no profile is found, groups are brought to your attention. Most of them range from ‘Frank Lampard- Chelsea Legend’ to ‘Frank Lampard is a fat bastard’. And people wonder about apathy in this country.
So, with all this in mind, here are the Facebook highlights I found when I typed in the names of the first choice England XI, not according to Ian Wright, who is becoming ever more intolerable when breathing let alone spewing words on screen for us to digest and ignore.
Robert Green: Firstly, there are a lot of people with the name Robert Green. Damn you all for making it so hard to sift through the shit. As it turns out, there are no actual profiles set up for him (boo) but nearly a zillion groups for ‘Robert Green for England’. Capello isn’t swayed by reputations, guys. Unless…
Glen Johnson: Lots of people, again, but at least he has a noticeably awful fake profile. The picture shows him shaking Rafa Benitez’s hand after signing for Liverpool. It’s rubbish, though, as no personal information is on there (boo again), although one deluded moron has written ‘hope your fit for saturday against city, you are an amazing player’. I’m sure he appreciates your comments, now back to your cell.
John Terry: Brilliant! The first of many that I click on is a somewhat neglected profile, with little work put into it, however his one solitary friend is Michael Ballack. It’s a frightening world when you think about it. Even scarier when you see one that has been maintained, including his About Me: ‘Hi my name is john terry (JT) yoy have probab;y seen me play for Chelsera fc (the best football club) who I hold close to my heart.’ That’s nice. Obviously never held English lessons as close, though. Ironically, the one ‘fan page’ he has joined is this beauty: ‘Fake Profiles for Celebrities- Never be Fooled Again!’.
Rio Ferdinand: The first one? ‘Rio Ferdinand. Network: Thailand’. Failure to launch on that one. Another? His friends include the entire United team. That’s correct. The entire team. Even O’Shea, who has no friends in real life, let alone on Facebook. No funny profile quotes of real mention, but I’m certainly a fan of the group ‘Rio Ferdinand= Twat’. Simple but effective, like the man himself.
Ashley Cole: Uh-oh. Lots of groups to talk about, ones with names beyond reason, apart from ‘Ashley Cole really is a wanker’. Brilliantly, on one profile, the Relationship Status is ‘It’s Complicated’. The only realistic (yet still horribly forged) page has ‘Ashley’ describing himself as ‘happily married’ and ‘enjoys a laff with mates’. Good old Ashley. As if you’ve got any fucking friends.
Gareth Barry: Poor Gary Barry. It seems he is so dull even Facebook fakers don’t want him. However, one closed profile has him enjoying a Birthday cake while on a night out with his librarian friends. Very dull. As for groups, who on Earth made ‘Gareth Barry Wannabees’, and who the fuck are the 10 that joined?
Frank Lampard: Apart from the polarising group names, his reception is generally positive on the profile front, including the stand out page which contains his favourite films. ‘click, harry pooter, iron man’. What??????????????
Steven Gerrard: Thousands. Literally thousands. But the stand out one has to be the one that contains this: ‘\m/ Alcohol doesn't solve any problems, but if you think again, neither does Milk’. Never more relevant after what happened in the summer, which didn’t actually happen, of course. His other favourite quotes include many snippets of Andy Gray’s commentary over his stupendous goals. So self indulgent, Stevie.
Theo Walcott: Perhaps too young to even sign up, but what’s this? Ah, something that makes total sense. His page has one thing on it’s Wall- a photo he has been tagged in- under the heading ‘giveyourfriendanosebleed.com.’ Totally normal, yeah. Ok.
Wayne Rooney: Harsh. One picture is just of Shrek. Unless he put it on himself… Even harsher, the group: ‘Wayne Rooney is overated’. Not only does it have members, those people have actually justified their opinion with lines such as ‘hiz got no skill and if he woz brazilian no1 would have herd of him!!!’. But he’s not, and people have, and he’s pretty much the only chance England have of winning the World Cup.
Emile Heskey: one has a real photo of him, but it’s locked. Devastated. And all the groups are in appreciation of the big wall up front for England. Nondescript both on the field and on the internet, which is fairly difficult seeing as even Mike Watson’s Mum is known.
There you have it. A terrible world we live in summed up in 11 descriptions of stupid people’s spare time. Then again, in my own time I’ve actively searched them. Everyone hates Facebook.
2 November 2009
Flog - Bite you in the arse like a biscuit
Dear Flog
I apologise for my absence throughout the past few weeks. This was due to a combination of other commitments including getting over a cold, going to Thorpe Park and purchasing the new Football Manager.
I promise that any visits to theme parks will be scheduled more appropriately in future, and that this year’s FM will not take over my life to such a degree that I forget what a razor and/or a bath looks like.
Faithfully
Tom Hayward (Mr)
Back to business. This week’s Flog is all about football’s nasty yet uncanny ability to come out of nowhere and bite you on your arse so hard you are convinced you’re a tougher than usual biscuit that’s been left on the counter to dry out. That’s right. I’m going for food metaphors. I’ve tried to quit smoking so it’s all I have to turn to for comfort now. Fuck you.
Firstly, let’s go global. Fair Play, and all that. It’s been going a fair few years now and let’s face it, it’s nothing more special than a motion, a title, just like ‘Arsenal goalkeeper’ or ‘Carling Cup Winners’. At the beginning of each season all the managers tell the press, sincerely mind, that this is the year they clampdown on their players and themselves when it comes to playing the game in a fair and proper way. What most of the press releases leave off, apparently, is the part where they add ‘as long as all fifty-fifty decisions go our way’.
So far this season Fergusson, Benitez and Wenger have all fallen foul of the FA’s and UEFA’s ‘strict’ guidelines on post-match comments regarding the referees, all concerning decisions that had they been given would certainly have been seen as moments that fit into the ‘Big Four decision’ pigeon hole (which some poor old woman has to keep track of, probably). This weekend saw nine red cards, though, which means no matter how absurd some of the decisions were, the problem of foul play lies throughout the league.
So that’s FIFA’s arse bitten. And if we go smaller scale, the case of Robbie Keane’s claims that Spurs’ squad is better than Arsenal’s this season. Honestly, it’s one thing to goad the opposition before your huge derby match, but to do it with outright lies is something else altogether. Spurs fans across the globe collectively slapped their foreheads in frustration at the crazy little Irishman’s words- an action that caused such a loud clapping sound that it woke Roy Hodgson from his afternoon nap.
As if his words were ever not going to be eaten. They were laid out on a plate from the moment he vomited them from his foolish mouth. As captain, he should have kept quiet. Or, at least, made it look as if he was trying a bit harder when it actually came to the match. A pretty dull game in fairness but neither team got out of second gear. In fact, Spurs stalled from the start line.
BUT. Oh, dear reader. How I have let you down. All that went before, that was nothing. For I have the greatest testament to football biting you on the arse ever, right here. It was given to me by a friend, but this is something that needs to be shared. It concerns our friend Rafa, once again and his failing Liverpool side. Now, ask yourself, who have the Reds lost to this season in the league?
Fulham
Aston Villa
Chelsea
Tottenham
Sunderland.
Correct. FACTS. FACTS!!!!!!! Oh the magnificence knows no bounds. No more than, what, ten months since his famous ‘fact’ rant does that beauty come along. In fact (ha!), I can bypass Fact of the Week because it ironically takes it. It’s so good, I may never do another one again- stop cheering at the back.
I apologise for my absence throughout the past few weeks. This was due to a combination of other commitments including getting over a cold, going to Thorpe Park and purchasing the new Football Manager.
I promise that any visits to theme parks will be scheduled more appropriately in future, and that this year’s FM will not take over my life to such a degree that I forget what a razor and/or a bath looks like.
Faithfully
Tom Hayward (Mr)
Back to business. This week’s Flog is all about football’s nasty yet uncanny ability to come out of nowhere and bite you on your arse so hard you are convinced you’re a tougher than usual biscuit that’s been left on the counter to dry out. That’s right. I’m going for food metaphors. I’ve tried to quit smoking so it’s all I have to turn to for comfort now. Fuck you.
Firstly, let’s go global. Fair Play, and all that. It’s been going a fair few years now and let’s face it, it’s nothing more special than a motion, a title, just like ‘Arsenal goalkeeper’ or ‘Carling Cup Winners’. At the beginning of each season all the managers tell the press, sincerely mind, that this is the year they clampdown on their players and themselves when it comes to playing the game in a fair and proper way. What most of the press releases leave off, apparently, is the part where they add ‘as long as all fifty-fifty decisions go our way’.
So far this season Fergusson, Benitez and Wenger have all fallen foul of the FA’s and UEFA’s ‘strict’ guidelines on post-match comments regarding the referees, all concerning decisions that had they been given would certainly have been seen as moments that fit into the ‘Big Four decision’ pigeon hole (which some poor old woman has to keep track of, probably). This weekend saw nine red cards, though, which means no matter how absurd some of the decisions were, the problem of foul play lies throughout the league.
So that’s FIFA’s arse bitten. And if we go smaller scale, the case of Robbie Keane’s claims that Spurs’ squad is better than Arsenal’s this season. Honestly, it’s one thing to goad the opposition before your huge derby match, but to do it with outright lies is something else altogether. Spurs fans across the globe collectively slapped their foreheads in frustration at the crazy little Irishman’s words- an action that caused such a loud clapping sound that it woke Roy Hodgson from his afternoon nap.
As if his words were ever not going to be eaten. They were laid out on a plate from the moment he vomited them from his foolish mouth. As captain, he should have kept quiet. Or, at least, made it look as if he was trying a bit harder when it actually came to the match. A pretty dull game in fairness but neither team got out of second gear. In fact, Spurs stalled from the start line.
BUT. Oh, dear reader. How I have let you down. All that went before, that was nothing. For I have the greatest testament to football biting you on the arse ever, right here. It was given to me by a friend, but this is something that needs to be shared. It concerns our friend Rafa, once again and his failing Liverpool side. Now, ask yourself, who have the Reds lost to this season in the league?
Fulham
Aston Villa
Chelsea
Tottenham
Sunderland.
Correct. FACTS. FACTS!!!!!!! Oh the magnificence knows no bounds. No more than, what, ten months since his famous ‘fact’ rant does that beauty come along. In fact (ha!), I can bypass Fact of the Week because it ironically takes it. It’s so good, I may never do another one again- stop cheering at the back.
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