Thursday, April 22, 2010

Desert Dispatch March 2010

Thatsyerlotti: We deserve this



Charles Thatsyerlotti, the fulsome and colourful, funny and solemn, deadly serious and laugh-a-minute Chelsea manager, last night claimed that “Chelsea deserve the title now. We must stay top of list after not winning these English league for so much years…”. The West London outfit has been in the wilderness for nearly 5 years since their famous title win under Joseph Mourinho.


Sir Massive Ferguson, meanwhile, having seen his side outplayed by the Londoners in their recent league encounter, outwitted tactically and outmanoeuvred in every part of the pitch, chose to graciously lambaste the linesman instead of insulting his opponents as usual. “He’s gone away to his wee house for Sunday lunch with his wee flag up his anus” he shouted quietly in a serious yet menacing tone. “I’d like to congratulate the wee peasant for ruining my dinner. He’ll not referee here again, I’ll tell you that”


This Game of Passion


The FA have decided that the outburst of gross petulance at the end of the match between the Madcap money-fixation madmen of Manchester City and Everton carried out by both managers should be punished and the draconian Edwardian punishments have today been announced by a man in a white coat at FA headquarters. David Noise, the jocular, chirpy, no-nonsense, ginger-bonced, thruppence-ha’penny Toffees supremo is to be “let off Scott free” and Mr Robert Mancini of megabucks startling Manchester City, will be handed a heavy touchline ban. “We are not having this kind of foreign skulduggery creeping into our game,” whinnied Lord Machinery later on over a triple cognac and double cheese Whopper. “The foreign chappy with the fat scarf lost his rather short temper and started flapping at the Everton manager with his arms, like a man in Piazza Navona who has had his moped stolen and dropped his ice cream on his rather foppish brown suede brogues. Noise showed typical British bulldog spirit by trying to hide the ball from him. We are making an example of the foreign chappy, because we do not like his sort around here. Bloody eye-tie rifraf”.


Drudge Paradise Court Rumpus



Megabucks Maniac Manchester City left back Wayne Drudge yesterday appeared in court to face his ex-partner, ideologically-wide at the hips, football-crazy, foamy thighed, bristling love-thicket, satin-skinned, stunna, Vanessa Paradise. Paradise claims that the paltry 3 million pounds will see her struggling financially to bring up their lovechild, Little Drudge, and is adamant that this is “akin to slavery, buggery, treachery, foppery and a number of other beastly misdemeanours”. Paradise, who came to court 3 in Basildon in a daringly cut Yves Lobotomy camel hair jumpsuit with matching Cuban heels and a Pierre Shamrock lampstand on her head, is being represented by Janet Street Walker QC, who said. “Ross ors orn orbsord ortorck orn mor clornt, who ors forstly or fortborller’s worf (or WORG if yor profor) ornd secorndly or mormmy! Orwell novor storp. Or wornt mor mornoy!!”


Robinho “Cruel Man No Pay”
Report by John Updike in a mangrove swamp


Superstar footballer Robinho has lifted the lid on his cruel new world in the tiny town of Santos-by-the-Sea, Brazil. “Cruel men no give me any money for cars and TVs,” he said. “I want go home to Manchester.”


Binbag: I Guarantee It by Jacques Custard in a rock crevice full of sea horses


Sizzling sensational rosy-cheeked humdrum slapdash Liverpool boss, Rifrafa Binbag Benitez wowed the press corps after his side’s latest impressive performance where they held a lead over rampant, Euro-challengers Birmingham City for more than 7 minutes, saying “I guarantee it. That’s what I said and that’s what I still say. I am saying it for you now. I guarantee it.” When pressed on what exactly he was guaranteeing, Binbag chirruped, “It’s a fact! I said before the game we needed six wins. Now we draw. We need five wins. It’s simple mathematics. Fact. Guarantee”


Burnley Ace Hits the Bar


Burnley ace Kevin McDonald yesterday claimed that, after watching the second half of his side’s game with Manchester City in the pub with his mum and his brother, that he was totally committed to the cause of pulling the clarets out of the relegation mire. “Just because I was in the pub during the 2nd half after playing in the first half, doesn’t mean that I wasn’t fully behind the boys in their quest to pull the deficit back in the second period”, he said. “They clearly needed as much support as possible. I was shouting at the telly in the pub as much as the next drunk, I can assure everyone of that. If Burnley fans don’t think I’m 100% in to this, they have every right to think what they want, but they should look at the bill I ran up, if they really need convincing. By hitting the bar in the 2nd half, McDonald came closer to scoring than 10 of his team mates.”






Ribery a Typical German!!!
By Gideon Lampstand, the Voice of Reason:


Wearing a scowl that could have launched a thousand ships in his native Govan, Sir Massive Ferguson sat motionless in front of the TV cameras, Motionless and still. Apart from a steady rocking to and fro and a gentle fingering of his purple-veined nose. I thought I saw a tear in the great man’s eye as he looked away and collected himself. The silence was crushing. His lips moved silently, solemnly, rehearsing the well-chosen bons mots that would fill our notebooks and hearts, but not a sound came out. I felt like I was about to hear Churchill speak from upon high. Then he began, deliberately, slowly, carefully choosing every word, as if spoken a thousand times before. “The way they got our laddy sent off. Bloody diabolical liberty. That’s shoved it for us that has. All that waving at the referee like that, all that fannying about. Typical bloody German cheating, I call it.” And then, in the time it takes to avoid a handshake, he was gone, a man beaten, a man on his knees, but still a man with the dignity of a lion and the nose of a giraffe.


Jordan on Brink of Suicide by Herman Hesse in Piccadilly Circus


In a more or less nonsensical development, the popular Tottenham assistant manager has lifted the lid on the delicate balance between sane and insane in the world of big time football. “When Harry said he might be going to Tottenham and I thought I’d be left at Portsmouth, I thought to myself “this is it, I’m going to have to top myself.”. I even took drugs. When I was high, I thought I could see that Russian chappie opening his wallet but I was hallucinating. Harry was very annoyed with me for that but thankfully we made it up and I went with him to London because it just felt so right. Now we’re very much in love with Tottenham and I’ve managed to put the whole Portsmouth thing behind me thankfully. My fans still adore me and I treated myself to a little pair of pink frilly horse riding jodhpurs as a treat for getting meself right again. Pip pip! Page 812 – Jordan: how Botox made my gums, heels and underpants fall off at the same time Page 324 Jordan orders botox treatment for pony


Sir Massive: “Potato Fit”


Newly crowned Champions League also ran Sir massive Ferguson has announced that Wayne Potato, the footballer of the year, will be fit to play Megabucks laughing stock Manchester city. “Wayne will walk through walls for us,” he said. “Or at least limp through them”. Thanks to a renaissance in the form of Gary Nerdy, it is thought that shamed banned and very unlucky full back Rafael will not be missed. Nerdy is an example to us all, said someone in the street with his shirt tucked into his underpants.



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Imbiber of Amantis 2005, cold water, black coffee. Victim of great Winona Ryder trouser theft; hapless dreamer, willing accomplice and crafty left sided midfielder.

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