Hello,
Football is back!
There is nothing I like better than adjourning to my throne for a couple of hours on a Sunday morning with the Footie results. Like most blokes here in Blightydom, football is more than just a sport. It’s an excuse to get pissed!
As Bill Shankly famously said, “Football is not about life and death. It’s about something else. What, I haven’t the foggiest. Give and go. Flat back four. Break the fucker’s leg next time he skins ye son.”
Andy Murray Winning Ball Over The Net! Mo Farah and Christine Thingymajig! Winning The Ashes! The Lions Winning Down Under! Chris Froome Winning The Pedalling!
Not proper sport.
Doesn’t bear comparison with the wanderings of Wayne Rooney’s hair and his search for pate peace. Wayne starts the season with a carefully sewn in thatch, even dabbling with a center parting and as the season progresses his hair gets thinner than the atmosphere on Mars. Now that is sport.
Wayne has learned a new word - Tuesday. That’s 83 now!
I spend hours analysing teams, attendances, player ratings whilst me innards despatch the effects of the wanging session The Overwrought Penguin.By the way my lovely wife Shirley has taken a shine to the new barman Osvaldo. 12 pints of Snakebite with Malibu chasers will do that to a woman.
Osvaldo takes care of himself. Cleans his teeth for starters. Bloody foreigners. Can’t play football though can they? Just remember pal, WE invented the game. And tinned carrots. And Parliamentary Democracy.
Think I’ll go for a lie down……….
Laters
Bob
