Unadulterated Genius

Dear Players of Grimsby Town FC

I am writing with regard to my absolute astonishment and disbelief as to the sheer magnitude of your complete lack of talent and failure to carry out the job for which you are paid to do. I am not aware of any swear word or other derogatory phrase in my current vocabulary which comes close to a description of your ‘performance’ (and I use that term loosely) this afternoon, but let me just say that you have collectively reached a level of inadequacy and ineptitude that neither I nor modern science had previously considered possible.

In fact I recall a time, in my youth, when I decided to call in sick at work and instead spent the entire day in my one bedroom flat wearing nothing but my underpants, eating toast and wánking furiously over second-rate Scandinavian porn. Yet somehow, I still managed to contribute more to my employer in that one Andrex-filled day than you complete bunch of toss-baskets have contributed to this club in your entire time here.

I would genuinely like to know how you pathetic little píssflaps sleep at night, knowing full well that you have taken my money and that of several thousand others and delivered precisely fúck all in return. I run a business myself, and I believe I could take any 4,000 of my customers at random; burn down their houses, impregnate their wives and then dismember their children before systematically sending them back in the post, limb-by-limb, and still ensure a level of customer satisfaction which exceeds that which I have experienced at Blundell Park at any time so far this season.

You are a total disgrace, not only to your profession, not only to the human race, but to nature itself. This may sound like an exaggeration, but believe me when I say that I have passed kidney stones which have brought me a greater level of pleasure and entertainment than watching each of you worthless excuses for professional footballers attempt to play a game you are clearly incapable of playing, week-in, week-out.

I considered, for a second, that I was perhaps being a little too harsh. But then I recalled that I have blindly given you all the benefit of the doubt for too long now. Yes, for too long you have failed to earn the air you’ve been breathing by offering any kind of tangible quality either as footballers or as people in general. As such, I feel it’s only fair that your supply runs out forthwith.

I trust, at this precise moment in time, that Mr Fenty is in his office tapping away on the Easyjet web site booking you all one-way flights to Zurich, complete with an overnight stay with our cheese eating friends at Dignitas. Don’t bother packing your toothbrush – you won’t need it.

In the event that our beloved chairman can’t afford the expense (understandable given that he’s soon going to have to assemble a new squad from scratch), then I am prepared to sell my family (including my unborn child) to a dubious consortium of Middle Eastern businessmen in order to pay for the flights. Christ, I’ll drive you there myself, one-by one, without sleep, if I have to.

Failing that, understanding that most dubious Middle Eastern businessmen are tied-up purchasing Premier League football clubs, I ask you to please take matters into your hands. Use your imagination, guys – strangle yourselves or cover yourself in tinfoil and take a fork to a nearby plug socket, or something. Just put yourselves and us fans out of our collective misery.

So, in summary, you pack of repugnant, sputum-filled, invertebrate bástards; leave this club now and don’t you fúcking dare look back. You’ve consistently demonstrated less passion and desire than can commonly be found within the contents of a sloth’s scrótum, so frankly you can just all fúck off – don’t pass go, don’t collect your wages, don’t ever come back to this town again.

I look forward to you serving me at my local McDonald’s drive-thru in the near future.

Yours sincerely

A very disillusioned Mariner

link: http://www.thefishy.co.uk/cgi-bin/forum/Blah.pl?m-1257631840/


Gordon Brown

I’ll be honest, I feel pretty sorry for GB. The furore that has exploded over his letter of condolence seems pretty harsh, given that the chap is blind in one eye and suffers pretty poor vision in the other. Any other person with serious disability would not be subjected to the personal attack that has been aimed at him – GB seems fair game though.

The handwriting in the letter is pretty awful, I won’t deny that. But take into account the PM’s dodgy eyesight, and it’s pretty commendable that he still writes the letters by hand. I know people with 20:20 vision whose writing would shame a camel. He’s trying his best, and obviously didn’t set out to offend a dead soldiers mother with his letter. However, she’s gone with the letter to The Sun, who aren’t GB’s biggest fans at the moment. And they’ve set out to rip him to shreds.

I feel sorry for the mother, not just for the tragic loss of her son, but as she has obviously been exploited by tabloid hacks with an eye for a scandal. But trying to trap GB by recording your phone call to him is pretty low. I hope she can leave all this mess behind.

One of the reasons I feel sorry for Gordon is because he lacks charisma, and so people think he’s cold and detached. I think he was being sincere when he tried to apologise, as I think he is sincere as a politician, but it just doesn’t come across. And now he’s getting lambasted from all corners, and I think it’s wrong.

Unfortunately for Gordon, shit seems to stick to him, and it has been his downfall. But he doesn’t deserve it sometimes, and this is one of those occasions.

IN OTHER NEWS: The Happiness Of The Katakuris is just brilliant!

Moz, and The Weakest Link

Hi all,

Morrissey has been getting some abuse for walking off stage after being hit by a beer in Liverpool. This article asks if he was right to do so. Erm, yes. Short answer there.

What other profession would tolerate having stuff thrown at them and continue with their job? Because, let’s not forget, however much Morrissey enjoys his work, that’s what it is – his job. Pays the bills, puts vegan food on the table, etc. Would Sir Michael Gambon carry on Hamletting if someone threw a sausage roll at his head? Would Dylan Moran keep on going with his stand-up act if a slushie hit him in the face? Of course not.

And they’d have every right to walk off. They are all paid to entertain, not to be targets. It doesn’t matter that Morrissey “suffered barely a splash of lager”, if indeed that was the case. Maybe for thrash metallers, getting stuff thrown at you is par for the course. But Moz doesn’t have to put up with that. All those complaining about not getting their monies worth should complain to the chump who threw the beer.

IN OTHER NEWS: I’m a nerd so i found this interesting. You may not, sorry.

On tonight’s Weakest Link, in the first round went as such – 9 players, 9 correct answers, straight to £1000, bank, job done. What happened next exposed the weakest link of the Weakest Link.

Firstly, the voiceover chap told us who were the weakest and strongest links. Bit ridiculous really, as there wasn’t one of either – they all got the same number of questions right and wrong. Then, the votes got tied, and the strongest link, who was also the weakest link, got to cast the deciding vote. She took out Garry, who then got involved in all the silliness. Looking like he’d just been kicked in the balls by an emu, he said,

“not wanting to be bigheaded, but I could’ve won that team alot of money.”

Well, that is quite bigheaded. Sorry Garry. Even though you were both the strongest and weakest link, someone had to go. Personally, I think the deciding factor should’ve been making Anne Robinson orgasm. Slowest one loses. Job done.

By the way, the winner of the show thought the Israeli secret service was Al Qaeda. Maybe Garry wasn’t being bigheaded after all.

ODDS AND SODS: New favourite song – Chase and Status feat. Plan B – End Credits from the film Harry Brown which looks quality.