Hello there,
I must apologise in advance this morning as today’s blog is a bit of a cuntfest. There’s no other way to describe it really. I shall try to temper the cunts with some non-cunts to decuntify things a bit though.
Firstly, Amazon. They’ve withdrawn the CD that was on sale after Arsenal’s legal department got in touch. Amazon said:
Arsenal Football Club has provided us with formal notice that content within the album ‘Manchester United Chants’ is defamatory in nature and we have, therefore, removed this title from our website.
Splendid. And I’m glad it’s been removed for legal reasons and not moral ones. Nevertheless, the CD’s creator, Fat Willy, otherwise known as Will Robinson, says:
This is the first I’ve heard about it and I’m surprised. There is nothing defamatory. That track you are talking about is not directed at anybody.
Disingenous to say the least. Everyone knows at whom the the chant is directed, the same as you don’t need to mention Man United by name but people will know to whom you refer if you talk about footballers dying on a runway (if you were the kind of cunt to do that).
The Guardian points out that Robinson runs a talent agency. I’m not going to link to it from here but anyone with enough Google skills to put his first and last names together with the word ‘talent’ won’t go too far wrong. And a little digging will find his MySpace which has pictures which show that if we were to call him Thin Willy we’d be in trouble because he really lives up to the ‘fat’ part of his name. I have no idea about his willy though.
Right, we’d best add some non-cunt to the mix before people get too bogged down on a Saturday morning. Dara O’Briaiaiaian writes a great piece in the Guardian about arch-villain Eduardo, saying:
There was something in the air that evening, something … evil.
Then he appeared. Twirling his moustache and swirling his black cape, Eduardo bounded on to the pitch and within moments had tied Artur Boruc, the Celtic keeper, to the train lines.
Marvellous. Go read.
Now, back to the cunts I’m afraid and England captain John Terry spoke out against diving. No, really. He did. He said Eduardo dived but then said:
Diving is something the England lads don’t do. Sometimes we’re too honest. Even in the Premier League, we see the English lads get a bit of contact and try to stay on their feet and score from the chance.
I read this before going to bed last night and, being somewhat in my cups, subjected poor Mrs Blogs to a rather lengthy, and I’m sure tedious, rant about what a humungous, plague-carrying cuntmongrel John Terry is. I spelled out, using the most wicked men in the history of the world, how he soared above all of them, his iniquitous existence a blight on the human race, a stain on us all. I used hand gestures, pie charts, graphs, Powerpoint presentations, empirical research and much more to prove, once and for all, that John Terry is the biggest cunt in the world.
“But why?”, said Mrs Blogs.
I sighed.
“Because he’s a cunt”, I said.
How can he say something like that with a straight face? He plays in various teams with the likes of Michael Owen, Wayne Rooney, Steven Gerrard and Joe Cole and he says English players are too honest to dive? He plays with Didier Drogba, has played with him for years and years, yet he still thinks it’s ok to talk about diving?
That’s like being a mafia henchman and castigating those who go around garotting people and stabbing folk in the throat before shooting them in the head, wrapping them up in plastic, weighing them down and dumping the body at sea.
England play Croatia on Wednesday and apologies to any patriotic Englishmen who want to see their national team do well but I hope Eduardo scores a hat-trick, nutmegging Terry for each goal (one of which will see him go around the keeper, stop the ball on the line, then kneel down and head it in off the ground), before an outrageous Terry dive to try and win a penalty for England explodes both his knees and brings about a grave, and hugely debilitating, case of sudden onset polio and a dose of consumption while he’s at it.
And let’s not forget that whatever he does in his career – this is what he’ll always be remembered for (ta, Magic Hat).
Ok, time for a break from the cunts. This time Robert Pires provides the welcome relief. He’s been speaking about the reception he got at the Grove when he came back with Villarreal, saying:
My comeback at Arsenal? I still have shivers thinking about it. All match long, while Arsenal played at home, I heard the stadium chanting my name. I almost had tears in my eyes. I will never forget.
What a man. What a player. What a chin stripe. He deserved the applause that night, the same way he deserved it at the away game, and when you consider the reception that some recent departures get, and will get, it’s proof that not being a cunt means people won’t treat you like a cunt when you come back. And vice versa. I love Bob.
Now, the final dose of cuntism for you comes from The Sun who speculate a takeover of the club by our gelatinous chum Usmanov is on the cards. Maybe he could join up with Fat Willy and make a CD of Uzbeki/Mancunian folk music such as ‘Gael Clichy is a serial killer’ and ‘Fabregas will give you Spanish influenza and your elderly and infirm will most likely die from it’.
It seems he’s going to gobble up Lady Nina, or at least her shareholding, putting him over the 29.9% marker, which means he has to make an offer for all the shares. Of course that offer doesn’t have to be accepted but if that happens we’re heading into dangerous territory. A boardroom battle well and truly on the cards and Usmanov owning our club still gives me the same disgusted shiver down my spine as it ever did. He can fuck right off, the cunt.
Finally, we’d better leave it on a non-cunt note, again in The Sun but they’re reporting that Freddie Ljungberg might come back on loan. This first appeared in the Swedish press as many excited Swedish fans left arses yesterday to talk about it. I’d say this is about as likely as Ashley Cole waking up one morning and not being a little swervy-off-the-road cunt but if you close your eyes, think of Freddie with his red hair and his always scoring at the end of that 2001-2 season it’ll start your day off right.
Now, time for breakfast. Have a good one, folks. More tomorrow.
