Was a time in me youth when football was a game for men. Freezing dressing rooms, chain pull kazis with perma stains and floating fags at the waterline. Hard shiny Bronco toilet paper to salute the arse. Shin pads? Unheard of. Wet muddy leather balls that could dislocate an ankle if misshit or knock a player out if headed. Thus the callow youth became a man. An Englishman (with brain damage).
The beautiful game now? Overpaid johnny foreigner playing overpaid johnny foreigner on hallowed English turf and managed by overpaid johnny foreigner. And who bought that sacred greensward and mortgaged it orf to fund their dodgy dealings worldwide? Why some other rich johnny foreigner, a yank, a wog a russkie or a chink. Maximise the brand, that’s the real game. Turn the largest profit you can and fuck the fans.
My pet vulture Gristle tells me that a “cheap” season ticket at Arsenal comes in a shade under a grand. We have some of the highest ticket prices in Europe. It costs to follow the brand. Problem is the loyalty of the fans. Listen to any smug faced statto cunt in a bar reeling orf who played in what and where to tanked up professer cunts delivering word of God sermons on 4-4-2 v 4-3-3 formations and you get my idea of hell. Mutual wanking societies that may bitch about prices et al but swollow johnny foreigner cock all the same.
Only chink of light to a sportsman who thoroughly disapproves of the fix unless he is in on it is the current revelation that top level football is bent. No surprise to anyone who lived through the eras of Don Revie and Brian Clough but the scale – europewide Singapore based gangs ect ect – takes one back to gee gee racing in the 1950s (razor gangs, bent stewards, glory days).
Football has been uber trendy for a while, a bit old hat now. Leave it to wankers like Chris Evans and Greg Dyke. I say you sad football obsessive cunts. Get a life donchaknow.
Nominated by: Sir Limply Stoke
