On the Wayne

Imagine going to Sainsbury’s or Tesco every week for years, handing over fifty quid each time, and those organisation never having what you’re looking for. The problem would only be with the supermarket for a ‘certain’ amount of time before ‘questions could be asked’ about the intelligence of the shopper. So on that note… I thought it hilarious when Newcastle United were relegated at the end of 2016 season. The fans of the club are some of the most brain-dead humans in the country. Every week, these depressing dullards dutifuly dock their own wages for this corporation so they can access their stadium-church and worship for ninety minutes. (Idolatry is not ‘my thing’ at all, btw.)

It’s not only the Newcastle fans. Throughout this former country hundreds of thousands of imbeciles have deluded themselves into believing they are part of something which is more than a scam to take their money. The fans think they are part of the team or club. They actually think they’re involved. Ask one how ‘they’ got on at the weekend and the person might say that ‘we’ won or lost.

It’s unhinged.

What would happen if you asked a fan of Rafael Nadal how he got on at the French this year.

‘We won our tenth French title.’


‘We won our tenth French Open. If we keep this form up, we might win Wimbeldon. And if we win Wimbeldon, that minx Sharapova said she’d shave our balls’

‘Er…right, so how did Nadal do at the French?’

‘I told you. We won.’

‘Stay there. I’m calling a doctor.’

I suppose it might be cruel to deprive these children of their little delusion, but it’s now getting worse.

Wayne Rooney has returned to Everton, the club he left when he was eighteen to play for Manchester United because it was a better career move than staying put. Now, because he’s not getting the games at United and is still eager to play, he’s taken the emotional decision to return to the club of his boy-hood.

Aww….how romantic. The boy’s finally come home.

No doubt Everton’s own religious maniacs will fail to see this move for what it is, and will delude themselves into believing the boy is returning, phoenix-like, to end his career where it began ‘all those years ago’.


cooking for retards

(A football fan, yesterday, after a goal happened. Or something.)



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