It is official – Premiership football is sh*t. Well, it has stunk for some time actually but I’ve just not mentioned it. And I never thought I would ever feel so strongly about it. And I don’t care about starting sentences with a preposition. If a man (or a naked blonde lady) with a loaded gun – said to me: “If you ever watch another Premiership or England match, either in the flesh or on TV, I will be forced to shoot you in the head and what is left of your addled brains will be splattered over the general area surrounding wherever we may be standing at the time”, I would say “Hey! You’re the man (or the naked lady)! I got no problem with that!” And I would never watch another game. And I wouldn’t care less. Seriously! (I cancelled my Sky Sports subscription ages ago – greedy bastards). And I still don’t care about those prepositiony things.
Participants in the ‘sport’ (I can’t bring myself to call them players, because that suggests some kind of team ethic), with a few exceptions – particularly in the Premiership – are either actors, cheats, whingers, spoilt brats, yobs, thugs, or got-rich-quick-get-paid-whether-they’re-there-or-not-don’t-give-a-tossers, who don’t deserve the obscene amounts of money their idiot clubs pay them – I ask you! for doing something that thousands of ordinary honest men do on Saturdays and Sundays for love! It’s a shame that people still pay to go and watch – it cost me £60 plus burger and chips for two to see Saints play Manchester City earlier this year. What a load of bolloc*s! Never again!
Phew! That’s better! I'm off to Brighton.
3 comments:
More than likely, Andy!
Scummer!!!!!!
Come down and watch the Bournemuff!!! You'll be glad you did
Rugby matches cost in the region of £100 for two these days...still, at least that's a game worth watching! ;0)
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