It’s been a pretty bad week for quite a lot of characters in the world of football. Let’s laugh at their misfortune. If the Karma police come knocking, we can explain to them that the objects of our amusement earn about 100 grand a week and are therefore fair game for our collective ridicule.
Darren Fletcher will miss out on another Champions League final after getting unjustly red carded against Arsenal. He looked like the little fat boy who’s had his lunch money stolen on burger cake day, his quivering lip and misty eyes belying the stream of tears that reportedly flowed in the dressing room. You note that Fergy isn’t protesting too hard, because like last year, he probably wasn’t planning on picking him anyway, so the suspension is a convenient way of not having to inform him he’s dropped. Now all Sir needs is some kind of injury to Park Ji-Pea Roller and he’s laughing.
Still, at least Fletcher can try and enjoy watching his team competing for Euro glory, unlike the staff, players and fans of Arsenal & Chelsea. The Blues at least have the excuse that they were stitched up by the nefarious Norwegian UEFA puppet, on a mission from Platini to deny them their rightful final berth in what is possibly the biggest conspiracy since the 9/ll who shot the moon landing episode of Lost.
The Chelsea boys lost their cool and Didier Drogba could be in hot water following his boggle eyed, gibbering Baron Samedi impersonation. It was seen as the last chance for this Blue generation to acquire the one major trophy that has eluded them, but it slipped through their fingers in agonisingly controversial fashion.
At least they were able to get a measure of satisfaction from their week by duffing the Arse at the Emirates. Niclas Bentdner probably doesn’t know if his pants are up or down following a week of spankings and nudity. It is absurd that Wenger has tried to claim that the Dane was ‘set up’ - a plot so elaborate and ingenious that the perpetrators managed to undo his belt without him realising, before yanking his cacks down. Masterful. After 4 years of glorious underachievement, Arsene knows all right, know he has to invest in some grown ups to balance out the team.
In what is becoming a fortnightly ritual in the Prem, a major star is arrested, this time, an unlikely candidate in the mild mannered Ledley King. The Spurs lame duck follows in England teammates Cole & Gerrards boots by being drunk and allegedly bashing the crap out of a fellow nightclub patron. King has since expressed his “sincere regret for a night with friends that went too far”. If understatements were functioning knees, old Ledders wouldn’t have such a problem turning out for the national team.
A man much more familiar with the boys in blue, Joey Barton, had another tumultuous week, typically getting himself sent off before incredibly managing to alienate himself from the entire city of Newcastle in one fell swoop by ranting at Super-Al, describing him as a “shit manager, with shit tactics”. Classic, articulate Barton. They Joeyster and I don’t see eye to eye on most things, but I would have found it hard to suppress a chuckle had I been in the dressing room when he labelled Iain Dowie “a prick”.
The Geordies doing what they do best, self-destruct, but yet the bloody fool that is the perma-tanned mouthpiece muppet Phil Brown managed to oversee his team Hull losing at home to Stoke in his continual quest to let either Newcastle or Middlesbrough off the relegation hook. Another bad week for the man who is Brown by name, orange by face and shit by nature.
Two people whose week was worse than most were the incredibly sad bastard who had his Ronaldo Facebook fan page closed down (pathetically snivelling that “everything is gone and I have nothing”) and the hopelessly glum chum in Kenya who, unable to witness any more Kieran Gibbs masterclasses, topped himself shortly after the Gunners Champions League exit.
Talking of football inspired suicide, I’m a tad concerned about ‘Mofty’. I sense from the imagery on the banner headline as well as the current 90mintesonline poll that our editor is slightly bitter about the Blues European exit, but hopefully the news that his team may be signing the Assman may stop him from fixing up the noose. Alas, I am not referring to our colleague and friend, Darren ‘Assman/Smuggler’ Douglas, but Argentinean goalkeeper Fabian Assman, a man whose name makes Chumbinho look reasonable. It can never be a good week if you’re the Assman.