Author: Max Frances
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Abu Dhabi Do-Do
Manchester City are certainly in a whole load of Barney Rubble, or should we say Abu Dhabi do-do. It’s a shamball shambles. Like all the plastic clubs, Shitty is primarily a laundry project. Fabric conditioner for scumbag loot and a vehicle for shirt sales webbed up with a tat merchandise multiplier. Even Chelsea view them…
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Frank Spencer
Earl Spencer’s been on one this week careering into car-crash interviews that would make Henri Paul raise an eyebrow – if his one remaining one wasn’t still in orbit circling Mars. Twenty-nine years on from his pulpit pop at the Royal Family, Earl the Pearl has re-savaged the King with all the oof of Frank…
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Dis/Proportionate
The mentalist debate hash over the Arday aggro seems to have nestled on the question of disproportionality. Do me a favour. Yes, every right-wing loon pumped spooge into the suggestion that Arday was a bullshido black belt. Just as every Leftwaffe gimp is curling out onto Führage and his £5m donation caper. That’s the way…
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Arday of Reckoning
Thoughts and prayers for insufferable lefties flatfooted by the Arday fallout. Hapless hacks split ranks from the exculpatory looney party line and critiqued Professor Vanilli’s plagiarism and fantasist larging as decidedy ropey for an elite don. Bravo? Nope. Schoolboy error. They’ve now been dragged kicking and screaming to kick out video mea culpas to avert…
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Arday’s Plight
Forget the alleged plagiarism and the fantasist guff floating about Jason Arday. You’d be hard pressed to find an academic who hasn’t recycled someone else’s work and at some stage bigged up their CV. Academia is cut-throat, with dons getting canned if they haven’t churned out fifty papers a year. And this geezer ain’t playing.…
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Trivaggro
Jürgen Klopp booked a bonfire and sparked his reign as German überboss with an immediate threat to split before he’d even put out the cones for his first sesh. Gott im Himmel! He’d clocked how hun hacks had remorselessly slagged Nagelsmann and Tuchel. Do I really need to say it? They’re both shite. Oh, and…
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Bin There, Done That
I can’t wait to see how well a joke candidate, with no real policies, an apparently tenuous grip on reality, and who seems more concerned with being a talking point and making a mockery of the democratic process than actually serving constituents, fares against Count Binface. Who’d have thunk it? A human being might contain…
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Off You Pop
Finally, Keir Starmer awkwardly fell on his sword, which I suppose marks a change from the pork sword of Mandelson that had done so much damage. Off you pop, Keith. No surprise that this was naturally a u-turn on earlier unequivocal commitments to fight on and was wrapped in a tissue of shameless gaslighting about…
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Platform Shoo-Ins
There’s been a push to no-platform Tommy Robinson from the Oxford Union. And USA women’s coach, Emma Hayes, has been in the populist crosshairs for her excruciating World Cup analysis. What’s the connection? Let’s speak on it. Firstly, let me be clear: Hayes is in no way an advocate for far-right politics. So, now that’s…
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FIFA Ranking
The latest edition of the FIFA World Cup is underway, and it already has the makings of a crass omnishambles. The Mexico-South Africa opener was refereed by some posturing goon, who was darting around, spaz-carding, like someone had marinated his love eggs in Chakalaka. The defender, Sithole, so christened after his parents had conceived him…
