Tuesday, 22 December 09, 07:18 PM
Friday, 20 November 09, 11:44 PM
Tuesday, 03 February 09, 02:02 AM
Now lets get one thing straight. I'm not a fan of sleazy agents. And so in true cliched style, a rewriting of the poem If
If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust your agent when all men doubt you But rest assured of your massive paycheck too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, and deal with spurs,
Or being hated by communists, don't give way to left wings, And your agent don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream of Real--and not make dreams your master, If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Levy and Ramos And treat those two impostors just the same;If you can bear to hear the truth your agent spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for you
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop, leave them to the highest bidder:
If you can make one heap of all your money,And risk it all on one turn of agent toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings, And pray they don't breath a word about your disloyalty;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after your agent is gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the agent which says to them: "only 40 000?"
If your agent can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with the boardsmen--nor lose the sleazy touch,
If neither communists nor hangers-on can hurt you;
If all men count your money, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving month With sixty days worth of media rumours,
Yours is the money and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be Dennis Lachtered, my son!
apologies to Rudyard Kipling, I really do like this poem. And to the Arsenal board: we pay the players wage, can you tell us if we have signed him?
Wednesday, 17 December 08, 04:22 PM
I'm becoming increasingly convinced that Chelsea fans are nothing more than rich Londoners who need something to do on the weekends, so they support Chelsea. Chelsea is a club run by a rich Londoner who needed something to do on the weekends, so he bought Chelsea. Peas in a pod. But at some point they were going to be engaged on football talk, oh no. So they just said something that no one can disagree with at the moment: 'Sack the Coach!' And then the went home for slippers, sherry and pipe.
I don't understand England, in the A League we do not consider 1 match of bad play as the manager's fault!
has the world gone mad, Fucking Rupert Murdoch, if he gets a state funeral like Kerry Packer I will be sending Kevin Rudd (who incidentally for our Australian readers, is the comic character on the front of the Milky Bar confectionery packets) A very angry letter.
He is up there with Ashely 'I have a girls name' Cole in terms on wankery.
I am so angry.
in other news it appears as though Eduardo's leg has reattached itself, good news, we can stop playing Nicolas 'look at my pink boots' Bendtner and put eduardo back in the frame.
On How Arsenal is like a Woman