The Police Stewards

The football thugs returned in numbers with the Euro 2022 final being targeted at Wembley Stadium, society’s ills impacted, the moronic brigade cam fourth. Limited press coverage limits the chicken’s feed to the chickens on mass, they cannot operate of singular note, on mass for the chickens, the thugs, they are of no relevance, just to themselves. To break and enter for the ticketless morons to frighten and disrupt spectators in their seating areas highlights the cowards that they are. The questioning of the police role in attendance if that was the case, the police in large numbers? Small numbers? Or from a distance? Differing takes on the police presence, take your pick. It can be said that the increasing role of the stewards has increased across the landscape of the pyramid system, the football clubs, with the rising disturbing impact of policing football coming at a high cost with police expenditure and leaving supporters within an arm’s length of the thugs, not to be restrained with the arm of the law. But the matchday stewards, equipped to deal with unsavoury incidents? An open question. Pen pushing station officers charged up with large mugs of coffee, the caffeine intake should not prevent them from invoking their tasks where it can be most needed, at football matches, follow the gist not the ‘jib, jib’. Termed language of the moronic to enter stadiums without tickets. The police to increase their presence at football matches and reduce the five stewards, a seventy five to twenty five percent kick back is required, safety measures need to be increased with policing not decreasing to impose a stronger stranglehold on football’s thugs.

The Liverpool Express

The train to Liverpool, time to put the Euro 2020 into the rear mirror, too much heartbreak, the 2021-22 season is on track, VIP seats reserved, jump on board Chester, Lime Street is the destination, signposted on arrival. Goodson Park, from a red to a blue, quality does not hide, it’s a virtue give the Rafa Benitez a chance. A new castle to build? Place the Crystal ball on charge, a new trip an electrifying trip to the Palace, Megan Markle? No thanks, but to the real crown jewels housed in Croydon at the proper Crystal Palace, jump on board Patrick, the new manager at the Palace, Patrick Viera, sing song “Viera la, la, la, la, Viera, he comes from Senegal to manage the Crystal Palace, Viera, vroom, vroom.” Next stop Tottenham Hale Station switch activated for the underground, on board, the cockerel’s been warmed the seat, the manager’s seat for the Nuno Espírito Santo, new brooms, new beginnings Rafa, Patrick and Nuno, don’t let the natives turn restless, no need for Custer’s last stand, eternal hope.

The Pyjama Parties

Heads into the gas oven and let’s explode the theory that Manchester United’s Harry Maguire was stitched up by the Greek police a year on prior. On mass they landed on the despot Greek island, Mykonos, the scene of Maguire’s nightmare in hell, police charges pending, to name a few, Kyle Walker, Mason Mount, Luke Shaw, Jack Grealish, Declan Rice romancing with the song, Sweet Caroline “Good times have never been so good” with Kyle Walker leading the way, whatever happened to Benidorm? Previous to the Sweet Caroline’s, the pyjama party hit the island with Borussia Dortmund’s Erling Haaland and hangers on being spotted wearing clothes similar to pyjamas, rumour has it that Haaland left a 100,000 restaurant tip for the size of the whale delicatessen, exotic with drinks to follow, perhaps Jordan Pickford was in touch not for the Greek tugboat, the local whale, but the same pyjamas off the same peg for the second pyjama party, in more refined surroundings, Pickford’s abode.
Players moan about the media intrusion but are quick to air their array of photo snaps into the public domain, birthdays, holidays, Covid-19 parties, sing songs. The post match dressing rooms will be a phone zone “What’s being said about me, did I play well? Any pats on the back?” Close all social media outlets and remain unaffected, online with that quote, pyjamas permitting.

Stateside Inter Miami

David Beckham’s early doors second season as the Inter Miami president, has been derailed with a series of bad results on the pitch, a 40 million investment from Beck’s, not to be sniffed at, the DB perfume of course, monies recoverable in time due to the marketing ploy, but results do need to be right on the pitch, that’s an important cog for the DB brand.
The appointment of Phil Neville as the Inter Miami manager did give a knee jerk reaction, but not enough to drop one’s golden balls, fell in line with the Neville quote time, “We have a clean slate to build something bigger and better than anything else in the world not just America, but even world renowned”. Too many Budweiser’s for Neville, always gave the impression of a few dropped screws, success is rooted from the manager, Beckham should know this, it appears not to be the case. The old pal’s act appointment invariably does not work in football, but quality does, a quality manager is required, Becks can deny the love nest, but there’s always the next match, another defeat. Miami’s expensive signing Gonzalo Higuaín looks to be spending his big bucks on the American dream, the Big Mac or the KFC if a fan of the orange sunset under the brow, the Donald Trump, time for an implant Gonzalo, orange of course. The MLC lies outside of the proper football universe, so what’s the appeal for Becks? Brand Beckham stateside.

On Invite – Wayne Rooney

The Roon, Roon, Wayne Rooney decided to revisit old stamping ground but not as old this time, knocking fifty years off Wayne’s previous jaunts, preferring to keep the age factor to twenty years of age spending some quality time with scantily clad girls. The port of call came at the Chinawhite, Manchester. The night of deceit came the way of the Roon who cordially invited the three girls to join one’s Roon with one’s motives becoming very apparent, ‘snapshot time’, Wayne tackling a blonde bimbo with no visible blouse, no Derby County shirt, all badged up, the Rams. Wayne’s dereliction of family duty rears its ugly head on occasions, wife Colleen was last seen throwing the white china out of the window, “Sometimes it seems the good times will never return, a lot has changed Roon. Does it make sense to escape Roon, you were my babe, oh for that Chinawhite.”
The repeated questions came, why have Derby County not sacked Rooney? Could they? Should they? Of course they can, rendering the Roney sack covering, watch the hair plant, but on what grounds tomfoolery with the pits of society, the showcase girls. To not meet the required standards of being a football manger off the field of play, enter the independent tribunal “I was set up my Lord”. A lack of cash oxygen at the ramed end of it, the Derby County has saved Rooney’s job for the moment, with the five million contract clanger being the game changer, strapped for cash the club cannot risk a payout, just one condition Wayne, don’t send Colleen on a holiday, be at home to tend the china, all in white.

According to the head honcho D Mail reporter, quote “Rooney is not one of life’s disrupters”, linking Harry Kane of similar character standing, “It’s a real set up”. What needs to be set up is for Wayne to don the kit, attend a training session and be caned hard, bloody hard. As for the DM’s journalist’s failure to spot the difference in character, between Rooney and Kane, has been dispatched to Barbados to head some bouncers, well it is the cricket season, chirp chirp?