Yaya Toure is the beautifully named Manchester City footballer famous for having the body of a linebacker combined with the feet of a ballerina. And that he earns £240,000 a week and sometimes goes whole games looking like he is actually somewhere else; maybe on the gridiron, maybe dancing Swan Lake in a tutu with Nureyev, maybe driving one of his Range Rovers. Anyway, he was racially abused. In Moscow. Those bastard Russians. Again.

But ‘Manchester’ is not a race. Being a Mancunian m*th*f*ck* is not racial abuse. Its a statement of fact about the inhabitants of England’s third… or forth… I lost count (along with the will to live as I journeyed up the M6 counting urban slums) or fifth largest and most important city. Just after Liverpool, because they spawned the Beatles, and Birmingham, because its nearer to London and maybe Newcastle just because unlike the others it actually has some redeeming features. Bristol’s nice, Norwich has a cathedral, Stoke has… er… hmmm… Stoke has an slip road back onto the motorway home. So that makes Manchester England’s 36th most important city. And its inhabitants, even those temporary ones just passing through to make an honest wage for a short period of time until they move to Chelsea or the next oligarch buys some third rate Kazakhstani team with delusions of grandeur, those inhabitants are bound to be abused. As they should be. Its nothing racial. Its Manchial. Inspired by those loathsome Gallagher brothers, whined about by Morrissey, all correct people hate Manchester and all it contains. Which is two football teams and a cricket pitch. And Coronation Street.

So can someone please explain to Yaya that it doesn’t matter what colour or creed you may be, if you play for an evil team like Manchester City YOU WILL BE ABUSED. YOU SHOULD BE ABUSED. YOU MUST BE ABUSED. Its the law.

Well, its my law.

 

And you can relax now. Forget the Atkins diet. No more stuffing meat into your face 7 times a day so your body can eat itself from the inside out, no more 5-2 diet days eating the Evening Standard on the way home from work, (paper has zero calories; known fact), no more green slime for breakfast just so Gwynnie feels the world is being healthy. Its over. They’ve isolated a gene that makes you fat. No, you don’t eat it, plonker, its in your DNA. Fat people have a deficient KSR2 gene. And mice, apparently, as they were part of the original tests. Ever seen a fat mouse? Well fuck about with its KSR2 gene and Jerry would never be able to get away from Tom again. Nothing cruel about that.

I’ve booked in to have my KSR2 gene removed altogether. Sucked right out of my double helix. Or repaired. Whatever it takes. And make mine a double peperoni, chilli and lard deep pan with extra everything.

 

Happy Friday

 

A xxxx