I wish this was news but sadly the phrase: ‘the England football team is shit’ is older than my children, who are only in their 20s. They’ve been shit since Bobby Charlton retired. Since Bobby Moore died. Since Jimmy Greaves left the game to get a new liver. And no-one knows why. No-one can work out why putting 11 men on a pitch, men who week after week perform amazing miracles for their clubs, Peles one and all, when in an England shirt the play more like Pele’s mum. If he’d had 11 mums. Or even 10 mums and a goalie.
So if the players are good then it must be the manager. Surely? But we’ve had 53 team managers since 1970 and none have done anything with the team. All different managers, all different styles. From the ultra-conservative Ulrika-shagger, Sven Joran Eriksson, to the ultra-flair, free-expressionistic zen bhuddism of Glen Hoddle, the only consistency in the national game has been its inability to play good, nice, pretty football. Even shitty football that wins would do, but we haven’t had that either.
Ok, so the players are good, often quite brilliant; Gazza, Bryan Robson, Hoddle himself, Beckham, Linneker; and the managers varied and all previously successful in their club careers, then we must look elsewhere for the cause of the malaise, the epidemic that turns any overpaid superstar into a total clueless nob just by putting three lions on his shirt.
Captains. Hmmmm…
Last few captains: Rooney, Terry, Ferdinand, Gerrard. All immoral, adulterous, granny-shagging, drug-addicted scum. If only Ryan Giggs was English, not only would ‘that left side problem’ have been no problem but we’d have arguably had the finest left-footed sister-in-law-screwer the league’s ever produced in our team wearing the armband.
Why can’t they be more like Bobby Moore? Why can’t they be nice, neat, smart, untattooed, gentlemen who only ever wear suits and ties outside their game? Polite. Nice. Handsome. World Cup winning. And, according to a new book just out, the greatest drunkard this country has produced since Oliver Reed (George Best was Irish, Gazza came later). Bobby Moore was the pisshead’s pisshead. And always managed to drive home afterwards in his Jaguar. Which is a testament to his visuo-spacial awareness and physical qualities. Except when he ran his motor into a lamppost and got banned for a year, and when he rear-ended Harry Rednapp’s car and totaled his own one in the process.
We can blame people like Arsene Wenger. Foreigners who came to our wonderful game and did things like taking bacon sandwiches off the menu. Banned players smoking (except Jack Wilshere). Fed them proper, so-called ‘healthy’ food, like some French Gwyneth Paltrow. Gave them pasta. Forced vegetables and fruit into their diets. Made them exercise a lot. And stopped them drinking too much. Which, as we now know, was the cause of our nation’s footballing woes.
So if Roy Hodgson wants England winning again, wants to beat teams like (fucking) Norway by more than one meager penalty, having made only 1 other attempt on target, for the whole team, over 90 bleeding minutes, he must get them drinking once more. Its the only way. And get rid of Wayne Rooney while yer there.
Happy Friday
A xxxx
I feel I have to agree with Dom in his comments because he’s a Spurs fan and therefore is cleverer and better at swearing than normal people.
Your plan, Jose, is to make the England team look like a bunch of current and past Chelsea players, to be paid 25 million quid each upon victory, a kick in the testicles for a loss.
If you want Terry back, though how you ‘force’ someone out of retirement can be tricky, and Lampard too, with Cole (departed but Chelsea through and through), why not go the whole way and play Bonetti, the Cat, in goal, have Ronnie Harris chopping them down, and put Osgood up front with Rooney, even though he’s dead. Now that sounds like a plan.
Though to be honest, would be no worse than what we have now.
Tomorrow we face the bankers, watchmakers and tax avoiders of Switzerland. Some of their players are even professional, so I believe.
Come on England. Like I care.
A xxxx
Jose – no idea who you are (unless you’re THE Jose M, in which case we’re all honoured to be reading your comments), but regardless of the content, I admire the fact that you got 4 fucks, 1 shit and 1 butt in.
You missed the opportunity to call Jack Wilshere a wanker, which was a shame.
Next time more swearing please.
There is one primary and several secondary problems with the England game. Firstly there is too much money in the sport in the UK. The whole metabolism of the game revolves around commerciality of club football TV and everyone is feeding off the gravy train. This means insufficient effort and focus is left for the youth game and nobody really cares if England are shit because there is no money in it if we win. It’s that simple. More tactically and recently it the manager. I’m convinced Hodgson is a numptie of the highest order; here’s why…
World Cup fiasco:
– We have a weaker side with not many goals in us and what does Roy do? The starting 11 are not finalised before the competition starts so no one know what the fuck they are doing. He drops the in form, fit best and highest left-back in the country and doesn’t insist Terry return so that at least the back four would look like: Johnson, Cahill, Terry and Cole with three of the best defence in the best league in the world that year.
– plays Rooney on the left in the opening game where he is uncomfortable (crap) on front of an equally uncomfortable Baines and we get butt-fucked down that wing the whole game.
– doesn’t pack the midfield with holding players – leaves Lampard on the bench.
The FA came straight out and said “Roy’s our man”. Based on what?
Leadership fiasco:
So after never winning a competitive game ever since taking over, making us look stupid on Brazil he then makes Rooney captain; he was thinking about Lampard before he new he was going to retire. What! Lampard is on his last legs and obviously thought (as Gerrard did) “fuck this for laugh) and retired.
Rooney said this week “we are still learning”. What a prick. What a pair.