Author: Max Frances
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You Can Keep Your Hatton
RIP Ricky Hatton – any death is sad, but it’s all the more a tragedy when the person passing still has so much life to live. Cue a minute’s applause at the Etihad. They just can’t help themselves, can they? I’d wager we’d all rather be laying to rest the cancer of virtue signalling and…
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Greta Garble
Don’t look away – Greta’s back. We’d all rather hoped she’d discovered rough cider and cock by now – perhaps even grunted out a spazzer or three – but no, the slacktivist gravy train – or rather the gravy boat – is still chugging. That’s in both the ‘moving slowly making muffled explosive sounds’ and…
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Cop Cosplay
Top cop Sir Mark Rowley has defended officers after five tooled-up rozzers swooped on Heathrow to snare a guy who had pinged out a few tweets back in April. Unsurprisingly, that blew up in his face as abruptly as a silicon-pumped Rio trans-buttock. Now that his senior officers have been exposed as weapons-grade berks, this…
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Amorim Job
Forget Reuben Amorim for just for one second. Man United are thinking about replacing goalkeeper André Onana with an epileptic Thalidomide impaled on a clothes prop. A tasered flid would after all fare better with crosses than a poundshop Baron Samedi with two left hands. Amorim himself has demonstrated success only in outpacing the frenetic…
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Führ Right
It beats me how flying English or British flags can be deemed ‘far-right’ per se. There’s always been a blissfully ignorant irony adhering to the flag-shagging moniker being mercilessly tossed out by swivel-eyed Euro-loons, who themselves blunderbuss the horrendous gold and blue motif into their every output. There are of course the usual suspects who…
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Smelling of Ruses
I’m probably way off the pace with this Alaska conflab, but it looks like a reshuffling of the cards in a typical Trump deal. The lore of deal-making – whatever piffle gets pushed out will be lauded as ‘great’, and the two leaders will come up smelling of ruses. It’s a funny old world right…
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Three Irons
Well, thank God that shambles is over. I’ve not been as bemused since the World Downs Syndrome Championship when Mongolia chalked up a bonus chromosome in stoppage time. If a team as manifestly cack as England can triumph in any tournament, this tells you everything you need to know about this dogshit variant of the…
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Les Misérables
Much has been made about the cosplaying of women footballers – you know, the whole on-pitch slo-mo performative dance, together with the vacuous press conferences, minging magazine articles, asshole adverts, unmeritorious medals, and the tosspot Tik Tok turdbait. The overreach and grim gaslighting are embarrassing. Perhaps a thumping by Spain in the Euro final might…
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A Flair Cop
England ‘footballer’ Jess Carter has whistled up the cops to probe the online hate directed at her. Yes, you read that right. A shedload of labour-intensive man hours will now be ploughed into an investigation about a handful of hurty words unidigitally prodded into a keyboard by some weary gobshite. Surely, it takes a bit…
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Cold Played
What a palaver at Astronomer – I would think that the handsy bossman is already seeing stars, courtesy of his chip-spitting missus. Mind you, I toiled in outsourced contact centres for 20 years or so, and I can’t remember a time when the CEO wasn’t banging the HR Director. Let’s face it, soaking up psycho…
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