Tag Archives: Manchester United

Top 10 Embarrassing Celebrity Manchester United Fans – by Rob Atkinson

As Leeds United fans, we will all know at least one Man U “supporter” who – let’s face it – is a bit of a knob.  You know the sort – they never go to the game, but they drone on and on about “Nitid” to anyone who’s unlucky enough to be trapped in conversation with them.  Most of them can name David Beckham and Eric Cantona, but they’re not too sure about more recent names.  They’ve ALL swallowed the “Biggest Club in the World” myth, all of them.  Hook, line and sinker. They’re pretty dismal individuals. Now, fame and money don’t normally improve a person – so how much worse are the Pride of Devon’s celebrity fans?  I mean, loathe them or hate them, you can’t deny there’s some things their fans are good at, and being utterly dislikeable is right up there. Take a look at these prize specimens, presented here in time-honoured descending order of detestability…

10. Mick Hucknall

There’s a website entitled 1000 People More Annoying Than Mick Hucknall. A whole thousand. That’s not bad, really – out of a world population of seven billion or so – and it shoots him straight to the bottom of this list of horrors.  In truth, Hucknall only just edges in here in 10th place, as he actually has a couple of redeeming features. He’s absolutely from Manchester for a start, which for a Nitid fan means he should probably be stuffed and put on display.  He’s also a Labour Party supporter, which is the next-best thing to being a socialist.  With Mick, it’s probably mainly his support for Man U itself that makes him annoying – apart from those ginger dreadlocks and the silly “slept with 1000 women” nonsense. As a human being, Hucknall is faintly ridiculous – as a Man U fan, he’s just about the best.

9. Steve McFadden

Born in Maida Vale in London, McFadden therefore exemplifies the standard Man U fan demographic. His acting career has been mainly characterised by pretending to be hard, an echo of the qualification condition for membership of the so-called Red Army, a group of 1970’s Man U fans who roved around the country from their southern base, looking for stragglers and scarfers to attack in numbers. When his stint pretending to be hard in Eastenders came to a temporary halt in 2005, McFadden turned to documentaries, mainly surrounding violence, in which he pretended to be hard.  He later returned to Eastenders, and resumed his accustomed role of pretending to be hard.

8. Michael le Vell

Another rare and exotic beast – a Man U fan from the local area, Newton Heath – which was the original name of the Salford club. Michael le Vell has had to endure a tough and humiliating period of his life a while back when, during a court case he was outed as a fan of the Theatre of Hollow Myths outfit. “I have to admit,” said le Vell, “I did find that a lickle bit embarrassing.”  A former winner of “Most Ridiculous Moustache in Soaps” award, le Vell (real name Michael Robert Turner) started his acting career at the Oldham Theatre Workshop. During the 1980’s, he gained a following as a gay icon due to his daft ‘tache and also the skintight jeans which he wore mainly to ensure the high-pitched voice of Mancunian indignation which he used for the majority of his Coronation Street lines.

7. Brian Blessed

Born in Mexborough, South Yorkshire, Blessed is one of that sorry Legion of the Damned, the Man U fan from the God’s Own County, or the Tyke Scummer, as they are sometimes known.

Blessed has made a very successful career in theatre and TV, managing to circumvent the normal requirement for some talent by building upon his childhood discovery that he could shout.  Since then, Blessed has managed to shout his way, aided by an immensely passionate love affair with himself, to public recognition as a loud-mouthed huge person capable of dominating even modern 50″ TV screens simply by filling them.

Blessed lists his chief preoccupations as “Shouting, climbing mountains, shouting, growing a ridiculous beard and voice projection (shouting)”.

6. Zoë Ball

As with many a child before her, Zoë followed the football team her Dad supported as is quite right and proper – most of the time.  In her case, Dad was Kids’ TV guru Johnny Ball, and the team was Liverpool FC. So far, so good.  But as the years went by, and Liverpool’s star fell somewhat – alongside the fact that Man U were in the ascendant –  Zoë realised that being blonde, passably pretty and having a famous Dad wasn’t going to be enough to bring her the media success she craved.  How, then, to enhance her public profile?

And behold, a new Man U fan was born.  Zoë tumbled to the fact that the Pride of Devon were BIG in media circles and she noticed that lifelong Nitid fans were crawling out of the woodwork everywhere.  Joining that degraded crew, she decided, could be good for her career. So it came to pass. Whenever she needed a new job, or to impress some vacuous hack or TV exec, she now had the choice of referring to her famous Dad or to her newly life-long support of Man U. Enough of them were pleased enough with what they heard to give her a leg-up, so to speak, and her career blossomed out of all proportion to her mediocre talents.  It just goes to show – if you want to succeed, Opportunism Knocks.

Dad Johnny remains a Liverpool FC fan.  Whoever hears of him these days??

5. Roger Moore

We’re heading rapidly for the more despicable end of the list now.  Roger Moore is not only notorious as the Worst James Bond Ever, he’s also a prominent supporter of David Cameron’s Conservative Party, a well-known brown-noser of foreign royalty, universally acclaimed as the only man ever to have been comprehensively out-acted by Tony Curtis (in TV’s  The Persuaders!) and worst of all – whisper it softly – a Man U fan.

“I love M.U,” said Moore in one TV interview, using his Spitting Image parody voice and creaking one eyebrow upwards. “I nearly went to a game once.” Spitting Image figured large in media piss-takes of Moore.  The satirical latex puppet show featured a Bond movie spoof, “The Man with the Wooden Delivery”, with Moore’s rubber character receiving orders from Margaret Thatcher to kill Mikhail Gorbachev. Many other comedy shows at that time ridiculed Moore’s acting, Rory Bremner once claiming to have had a death threat from an irate fan of Moore’s, following one such routine.  Some people have simply no sense of humour.

4. Geoffrey Boycott

Into the top four most embarrassing now, and the standard of these pieces of human flotsam continues to decline steadily.  What can we say about “Sir” Geoffrey, folk hero to the dafter kind of Yorkshireman, professional Tyke and shameless exploiter of anything to do with the White Rose county, particularly in a “creekkit” context.

Geoff’s lop-sided grimace and tortured accent have become familiar annoyances to anyone who follows the sound of willow on leather, and the unashamed forthrightness of his views is far more famous than any worthwhile content or relevance that might occasionally be detectable. Boycott used to be a Nottingham Forest fan, due to his admiration for fellow gobshite Brian Clough; after Cloughie’s ignominious exit from the City Ground following relegation in 1993, “Boyks” jumped ship with the alacrity of a trained-up rat, settling on the Evil Empire for his devotion from that time on, blithely ignoring his supposed Broad Acres affiliation.

Together with fellow “Pro Yorkshireman”, Michael Parkinson, Boycott continues to capitalise financially on his home county whilst lending his dubious support to Man U. Parkinson possibly deserves a category of his own, due to his self-promotion as a fan of lovable little Barnsley; his early defection to Man U to worship and write about future dissolute waster George Best is less well-known.  It’s only right that two such examples of base treachery should share one item though.  May they be happy together in their wretched infidelity.

3. Usain Bolt

Some Man U fans, blissfully unaware of the irony of what they’re spouting, will often drone on about “not choosing your team, but your team choosing you”. We’re meant to nod, acknowledging that yes, of course, Man U are the biggest and the best – and that’s why they’re a natural to be supported by such a damn fine chap as whoever the plastic gloryhunter might be that’s coming out with such self-aggrandising crap. Dear me.

Man U fans for the overwhelmingly most part are sensitive little souls, slightly inadequate and socially inept, desperately insecure and in need of a morale boost and some reassurance – natural victims who need in their own minds to be identified by what they see as size (let’s not get too Freudian here) and success. Supporting Man U gives them a vicarious feeling of good times and well-being – or at least it used to – and they hope others will see them in this light too.

Tragically, as they walk down whatever southern high street in whichever of the current half-dozen Man U shirts they’re wearing, people are just looking at them, sighing, shaking their heads sadly and thinking “Tosser”.  But we need to recognise these character defects for what they are and not be misled by any outward display of bumptiousness or arrogance.  It’s almost never what it seems – except in some very isolated cases.

Usain Bolt, undisputed fastest man in the world and self-proclaimed living legend, is one of the genuine articles.  So utterly self-obsessed and convinced of his own wonderfulness that the world actually has a guilty feeling it should be turning around him, Usain is a case study in arrogance. He is not above a little bragging in much the same way that the sea is not above the clouds.  He follows Man U, we might surmise, not to make himself feel better, but to do Man U a favour; Usain’s support might, he must reason, make Man U look good.

He feels that, when he retires from running, he might decide to play for Man U. This is a deeply, deeply self-involved person – not a typical Man U fan at all. Just the living embodiment of the arrogance the lesser Man U mortals so dearly would love to radiate. And yet for all this natural talent and detestability – he’s still only the 3rd most repellent Man U fan.  Oh dear, Usain. Fail.

2. Terry Christian

Terry, for his sins, takes the most mangled, nasal, godawful accent anywhere in the British Isles – and performs the almost impossible feat of making it sound ten times worse after the Christian treatment. Add to that grievous assault on your ear-drums the hooded eyes, the arrogant “bollocks to you” Salford lad smile and – oh, just bloody everything else about the man, and you have a person who could make your very soul bleed at 500 paces.

Nothing is needed here about his career, or his piss-poor book, or anything except just the persona of the man, his carriage, his attitude.  There’s a phrase some Man U fans use to describe, by their own lights, a desirable and cool human being.  “A clued-up, clobbered-up Manc”, they say in tones of awe and deep, abiding love. Obviously the rest of us can’t imagine anything more nightmarish – but this is the image Christian projects. Just too, too horrible for words.

Christian chooses to define himself by his support of Man U, so I’m afraid it’s a case of “live by the sword, die by the sword”. It’s important to point this out, otherwise it might seem harsh to rip a man for supporting what is his local club. But Terry is just so offensively Man U, he embodies so absolutely everything that people love to hate about the most intrinsically disgusting club in the Universe, that it’s difficult to imagine just what there might be about him that anyone, anywhere, could possibly love.  Apart from other Man U fans, obviously.  And, equally obviously, they don’t count.

1. Eamonn “Feckin'” Holmes

This is The One.  He out-scums Christian, he out-oils even Moore. He’s a rabid Man U fan who comes from Northern Ireland and lives in London. He pronounces “Fiona” as “Fye-owner”, for Christ’s sake.  He makes feeble links and uncomfortable connections in the course of his daily work to give him some reason – any reason – to drone on in his annoying voice, with a smug, annoying smile on his smug, annoying face about Man U, the source of his violently unhealthy obsession.

It gets worse.  He’s friends with S’ralex, which is enough to exclude him from polite society everywhere.  Your typical Man U fans hate him, but feel they can’t admit it for fear of being disloyal to such a rabid, gloryhunting obsessive.  So they give themselves hernias trying to find something nice to say about the loathsome Holmes, ending up with something feeble along the lines of “Well, he’s certainly Man U frew and frew, innit – and he’s S’ralex’s mate you know, squire.  Cor, blimey, stone the bladdy crows an’ lavvadack.”

There is no excuse for Eamonn Holmes.  No shadow of any justification for the look he gets in his eyes when he thinks he has something clever to say, no allowances to be made for that annoying little smacking of his lips he does prior to delivering another laboriously-prepared ponderous one-liner to be dutifully laughed at by his long-suffering colleagues.  And I know it’s wrong, but I hate the way his features stay the same size as his face expands.  It’s nauseating, as is everything else about him.

More than anyone else on this list, I would say of Holmes – he deserves to be a Man U fan.  There. You just can’t be more offensively downright cruel than that. I feel spiritually cleansed.

-o0o-

These are the ten worst I could think of.  There are many who could have qualified as “dishonourable mentions”, people who would deserve the utmost denigration if associated with any other clubs.  In the soul-less, dismal ranks of Man U fans, they are merely ordinary and unremarkable. Michael Parkinson, who actually got a dishonourable mention in there. Michael Atherton.  That blonde wench on Countdown who can’t add up quite as well as la Vorderman (also a Scummer of Convenience, a Career Scummette).  Bill bloody Clinton.  The Neville chimps.  There are many. But these ten, I honestly believe are the worst of the worst, and they each merit inclusion for their own particular, despicable reason. I would be interested, though, to hear of any other nominations.

Happy Birthday Cantona, Bit-Part Player for the Last Champions – by Rob Atkinson

cantonalastchampion

Eric the Last Champion

Birthday wishes today to one-time United reserve player Eric Cantona, who has attained the grand old age of 49.  Cantona joined Leeds United in 1992, just in time to qualify for a last-ever Football League Championship medal, although his involvement in the actual winning of the famous old trophy was peripheral at best.

Cantona managed to make a few appearances and score a few goals for the Last Champions.  Some of the goals were things of beauty; his effort against Chelsea at Elland Road sticks in the memory for some amazing sleight of foot which preceded a thunderous finish into the top corner.  But United were 2-0 up at the time and it is a fact that none of Cantona’s goals that season were decisive, game-changing strikes.  His major contribution towards the winning of that last-ever level-playing-field title was probably his action, in tandem with Rod Wallace, of frightening Brian Gayle into scoring a pivotal own-goal at Bramall Lane.  But the Cantona role that season was a cameo – all of the hard work had been done by the real principal players such as Strachan, Chapman, MacAllister, Speed and the rest of Wilko’s core warriors – the players he turned to late in the season after deciding that Cantona was a luxury player.

The Frenchman’s move to the Theatre of Hollow Myths was decidedly well-timed from the point of view that it coincided with an end to championships being won on merit in a competitive league.  From 1993 onwards, it would be the richest club that finished on top, so – having won one league title in the original format, Cantona had a few more bought for him in the first few years of Murdoch’s “Greed is Good” league.  In the process, the slightly brooding and insular Frenchman that Leeds fans knew was re-branded into Eric the Red by the Pride of Devon marketing machine, complete with turned-up collar, pseudo-macho stubble and the trademark strut so beloved of the insecure and needy type of fan attracted to the commercially- obsessed Man U franchise.

Cantona was a relatively brief phenomenon even at Man U.  By 1997 he was gone, taking a surprisingly early retirement and aiming for a career in films – something he was destined to be overshadowed in by another ex-United player, far more influential in Elland Road history and far better regarded in Whites folklore; one Vinnie Jones.

Ultimately, it is the Man U incarnation of Eric that will be remembered by a selective media – the chest sticking out and the collar raised as he did his best to play the part defined for him by the remorseless publicity team at the Theatre of Hollow Myths.  But we Leeds fans remember a different bloke, certainly in terms of his relationship with the crowd; one who illuminated his walk-on appearances with special goals and that Gallic touch and control; one who flickered briefly but brilliantly at the end of the successful 1992 season and the start of the next one, especially with his hat-tricks against Liverpool at Wembley and Spurs at Elland Road.  This was Eric “Ooh-Ah” Cantona, an enigma who I can still see on the balcony of Leeds Town Hall, holding the last League Championship trophy and telling us “Why I love you, I don’t know why – but I love you“.

Fickle as footballers tend to be, he walked away from the love and into the hype; he became a man and a player for the Murdoch era of money and media.  But in remembering that Cantona, the moody and petulant Kung-Fu practitioner, it’s still important to recall the more diffident and less arrogant bloke that briefly, sporadically – but still memorably – played for Leeds.

Happy Birthday, Eric – and thanks for those few, bright, pre-Murdoch memories.

Man Utd Fans – a Scientific Study From a Leeds United Perspective – by Rob Atkinson

Image

From Amphibian to Armchair

Statement:

Having previously published an article which sought to convey certain very pertinent truths to the Football community at large, I have noticed a backlash of distress and resentment from some lower forms of life who can broadly be classified as “ManU fans“. These creatures are not normally capable of communication as civilised people understand it, but since the Why Liverpool are Still the Greatest Champions article saw light of day, various undercurrents of discomfort have been perceived, as if a species lacking in any sentient capabilities has been attempting, en masse, some form of primitive self-expression. In order to understand what is being conveyed, we should perhaps seek a greater understanding of the species as it exists in the wild.

The most common breed of “Man U fan” is Scummus Australis Gloria-venator (southern scum glory-hunter), to give the full name of the genus in its most prolific form. This is a manifestation whereby parasitic colonies are to be found almost everywhere outside of the Mancunian conurbation. The more hardy rival species Urbis Rex Urbus (City, King of the City) tends to keep down the Scummus numbers in this one isolated location, but elsewhere they are prolific and they thrive particularly in the south, with unusually nasty infestations in Devon, Cornwall, the Home Counties and Milton Keynes – not to mention Singapore where their steadily growing numbers appear to correlate directly to an increase in reported cases of Dhobi Itch.

The genus is vaguely humanoid in form, even in this most lowly class, and some authorities believe it may actually be a sub-classification of Homo sapiens itself, being the result of selective in-breeding between males of the long-extinct “Newton Heath Man” and lower human females of a less discriminating nature. This theory has gained some currency after isolated and hotly disputed “demonstrations” of a reported ability in certain Man U fans to count up to twenty; to recall events from as long ago as 1993 (but in most cases no further) and, in some cases, even to grunt simple sentences.

Whether they are really capable of original thought has been the subject of hot debate, but there appears to be very little empirical evidence to support the arguments of those who say that this is indeed so. (Citations needed)  Examples have certainly been given of individuals being able to make grunting noises approximating to actual speech, and some observers have claimed to detect genuine phrases such as “Biggest in the world”, “Liverpool granny-stabbers” and, most notably of all, “We all hate Leeds scum“.

It has even been suggested in certain circles that this latter manifestation may give a hint as to the existence of a rudimentary sense of irony, but this has been dismissed as fanciful by most competent authorities, who tend towards the opinion that any noises recorded when a pack of ManU fans gathers are mainly for mutual reassurance, low-level male bonding and to attract the attention of higher species in Leeds, Liverpool and North & West London.

Another area of dispute has been the way in which evolution is working where this species is concerned and, indeed, in which direction? It’s well-known and universally accepted that nearly all species, particularly the higher primates, follow a linear evolution whereby the organism tends to advance in both body and mind over an extended period. There is, however, evidence to suggest that some strains of the ManU fan have actually been formed by a process of degradation as illustrated at the head of this article; a higher species has in effect decayed to form an inferior strain; fish has become armchair.

This runs contrary to the vast body of accepted knowledge in the anthropological sphere, but there is some hard evidence that some individuals of the ManU fan species have superior, albeit decayed, genetic material in their recent ancestry. It is not known how such a relatively swift and drastic deterioration may have taken place, though some theories postulate that the injection of a malign bacterium from the Govan area of Scotland may have corrupted some previously sound stock around the late 1980’s resulting in mutations in gene pools wherever this highly volatile and destructive bacterium was detected.

What seems certain is that, despite an almost complete lack of intelligence or conscious thought on an individual level, this species is able to communicate certain simple emotions when acting together, much as is the acknowledged case with lower creatures such as ants or even bees. The possibility of a “colony intelligence” should not lightly be dismissed and it may well be that ManU fans are able to co-operate in this manner, and that one day – maybe not for a long time – they may succeed in achieving some sort of primitive interaction, perhaps as a result of some species-wide distress or sense of grievance.  For the moment, it is true, the effect is merely that of incoherent noise in a very basic and simple pattern, repeated ad nauseam without any apparent higher motive and utterly unworthy of publication or retention. The possibility of some limited increase in coherence and content cannot, however, be dismissed out of hand.

This being the case, I have undertaken to publish, on an experimental basis, more material investigating the hierarchy that operates within Football, and the extent to which this has been perverted by the advent of the “Murdoch Syndrome” in 1992. Such material will be scrupulously researched and the findings presented in such a manner as to render them scientifically impeccable, as has ever been my intention. But, given the feedback received after the Liverpool piece – diffuse and muted though it was for lack of clarity and intellectual content – efforts will also be made to monitor any increase in activity among lower orders generally and the sub-species “ManU fan” in particular. Naturally, I intend to remain accountable at every stage of this process, so I will as ever welcome comments and constructive contributions via the usual channels, though manifestations of incoherent noise and repetitive gibberish will continue to be deleted, except insofar as they may provide useful data in the context of these investigations.

Statement ends.

‘Grateful’ Man United to Unveil Statues of Rupert Murdoch and Howard Webb – by Rob Atkinson

Theatre of Hollow Myths - due a name change?

Theatre of Hollow Myths – due a name change?

Life, Leeds United, the Universe & Everything can exclusively reveal that Man Utd – the former football club now known throughout the observable cosmos as The Pride of Devon – are to show their appreciation of two massively important figures in their recent history, by erecting statues in their honour.

The legends concerned are Aussie media tycoon Rupert Murdoch – who single-handedly ended Man U’s 26 year title drought by buying the game for them in 1992 – and former referee Howard Webb, who still holds the all-time club record for career assists, beating even Ryan Giggs and Mike Riley into second and third positions. Mr Webb is now the technical director of the Professional Game Match Officials Board, where he will be able to continue in the service of Man U, ensuring that the “right” referees are selected for their fixtures.

A Theatre of Hollow Myths insider, speaking on a lobby basis to Life, Leeds United, the Universe & Everything, confirmed that the two statues have been commissioned in recognition of the club’s immense gratitude for the contribution of these two individuals towards their unprecedented and frankly suspicious level of success. The identity of our source cannot be revealed, but we are able to confirm that he has an elder brother, a centre-half for the best team around, who won a World Cup winner’s medal for England in 1966, and that he himself is now mainly occupied in the “unofficial match ticket supply chain”, going under the nom de guerre of “Ticketmaster“. His anonymity guaranteed, he was able to give us full details of the nature and locations of the planned statues.

The first surprise is that the statuary tributes will not be a feature of the Theatre of Hollow Myths itself. “We thought that might be overkill,” our source told us, flicking nervously at his comb-over, “After all, we already have a statue to Alex Ferguson, and various tastefully-sponsored reminders of the Munich Air Disaster. Alex himself was none too pleased about the possibility of “yet anither piece o’ mairble clutterin’ up ma groond”, so we’ve had to move to reassure him that the new statues will be located elsewhere. And, to be fair, they were likely to be just too big for the space available. The Murdoch statue in particular would have been the biggest erection in Manchester within living memory.”

So, we asked, Alex was happy – as long as the statues weren’t actually outside the ground, then? “I wouldn’t say happy, exactly,” our man admitted. “He doesn’t really do happy – but he has calmed down a lot since we told him we’re planning to name the whole stadium after him. He was quite pleased about that, I think.” Startled by a second big and exclusive piece of surprise information, we indicated that this was news to us, and doubtless would be to many armchair-bound gloryhunters throughout the world. “Yes, it’s been kept under wraps,” conceded “Ticketmaster“, “but we think it time to make a lasting tribute especially to S’ralex. The change of name from Old Trafford to Old Pillock will therefore be registered in time for the start of next season.”

Finally, then – where will the new statues be – ahem – erected? It turns out that this has been the subject of heated debate within the club, who are ever conscious of their need to maximise merchandising income involve their loyal and faithful Sky TV subscribers throughout the country and beyond. “In the end, it came down to the two real hotbeds of support – so we’ve decided to apply the Wisdom of Solomon – and give one statue to Paignton and the other to Milton Keynes.” Sir Bobby Our source nodded, contentedly. “We feel that this is an equitable solution.”

Sir Bobby “Ticketmaster” Charlton is 103.

No Official Response to WHY Mancunian Ref Taylor Was Picked for Man Utd Match – by Rob Atkinson

Former Man U favourite Howard Webb celebrates with his team-mates... but at least he wasn't from Manchester

Former Man U favourite Howard Webb celebrates with his team-mates… but at least he wasn’t from Manchester…

Leeds United fans have cause to remember Wythenshawe referee Anthony Taylor – not too fondly, though – for his performance in a game between United and Middlesbrough early in the 2011/12 season. Taylor contrived to send off Jonny Howson and Max Gradel of Leeds as well as Boro’s Tony McMahon in a game which then United manager Simon Grayson described as “not having a dirty tackle in it”. Middlesbrough won the match 1-0.

That might well establish Mr. Taylor as a referee of less than optimal competence, certainly in Whites fans’ eyes – and yet he has gone on to officiate regularly in the Premier League, appearing to court controversy at about the same rate as any other referee on the roster – less, even, than some that we could name (and have named in the past). The other week, though, proud Mancunian Taylor dropped a particularly public clanger when failing to award a clear penalty against Man U at Newcastle United‘s St James Park, in a game won by the visitors with a late goal. Tim Krul gifted an easy chance to Ashley Young, who snapped it up before he could even remember to dive – and another Man U smash and grab was done. Same as it ever was, you might say. A penalty not given against Man U and a spawny late winner for them too – what’s so unusual?

The major issue here, though, may not have been the missed penalty – nor even the unsavoury spitting incident that Cisse of Newcastle admitted and apologised for, with Evans of Man U characteristically denying any wrongdoing, in accordance with club policy – despite clear video evidence. No, the real bugbear here is the fact that – for no apparent reason and with no possible justification – the authorities saw fit to appoint a Mancunian referee for a match involving a Manchester-based club.

To my knowledge, there was always a rule whereby a referee from the same area as one of the teams contesting a match would not be selected to take that fixture. That just seems like good, plain common sense, and I haven’t heard of any change to what was always a rigidly-observed convention. The not exactly infrequent situation whereby what seemed an obvious penalty was not awarded against Man U becomes even more unfortunate and embarrassing when combined with this additional and avoidable referee situation. Why on earth would the authorities court even more controversy than arises as a matter of routine, every time Man U get off scot free on a stonewall penalty shout?

Life, Leeds United, the Universe & Everything has been a loud and frequent critic of the kid-glove treatment that is still handed out to the Pride of Devon, even now in these post-Ferguson times when – presumably – the powers that be are in somewhat less of a state of abject fear than they were when the Demented One was in charge of Man U and, by extension, the game. So this is not, perhaps, a voice that will be seen to be particularly impartial or unbiased. And yet the facts speak for themselves. It is simply true to state that rarely a month goes by without some blatantly naff decision in favour of the denizens of the Theatre of Hollow Myths. It’s no secret, and there’s plenty of internet wringing of hands that goes on about it, with a predictably bland and complacent attitude on the part of both Man U, their hordes of armchair fans and the nominal rulers of the game. But to have them allocated their own, local referee as well, for a game that might well have been tricky for van Gaal’s men had decisions gone as they perhaps should – that really rather does take the biscuit, if not the actual urine sample.

I’ve not been able to find any guidance or regulation which formalises rules as regards geographical origin of referees insofar as it’s relevant to any particular fixture – I’m aware that there are some pretty nifty sleuths out there though, so any input to clear the matter up would be welcome. But it’s surely just common sense and good practice to select an official who hails from as far as possible from the homes of any two competing teams. It just makes for a fairer feel to proceedings. And – let’s face it – you could actually choose a ref from Devizes, and he’d be just as likely an adoring fan of “Nitid” as not. Those glory-seekers are all over the place, after all. But it rubs the nose of every fan of every other club in the league well and truly in it, to make such a daft and open-to-suspicion appointment as a Mancunian ref for a Man U match.

Are they really that stupid at the FA and/or EPL? Are they really that loftily complacent and arrogant as not to bother even giving the impression of ensuring fair play?? The distasteful combination of yet another bottled penalty decision, together with the fact that it was a blatantly Manc ref that bottled it, leaves a decidedly nasty taste in the mouth.

So what are these idiots and incompetents actually up to? I first asked this question immediately after the game in question. Predictably, there has been zero response. But, surely, it’s time we were told.

Roy Keane “No Longer Softest in Man Utd History” as Rooney Hits the Deck – by Rob Atkinson

Wazza in his final sentient moments before the lights went out

Wazza in his final sentient moments before the “lights went out”

Life, Leeds United, the Universe & Everything can exclusively reveal that Roy Keane, he of the trademark glower and scowl, optimistically intended to give the misleading impression that he is hard, has been stripped of his long-standing title of “Softest Git in Man United History” after Wayne Rooney‘s virtuoso exhibition of glass-jaw softness in his own kitchen the other day. The incident in question was described as “a friendly sparring match between old mates whilst Colleen was safely away on a foreign break with her two other children.” Unfortunately, Wazza was unable to take the pace, or anything like a decent punch – and ended up “swooning on the floor like a big fat girl”.

Rooney’s conqueror was former team-mate Phil Bardsley, who managed to lay out the until-recently bald English talisman with a classic short left jab, sending the Scouse lightweight to the floor in a non-too-graceful manner not unlike that of an overbalancing sack of manure. Bardsley was reported to have said afterwards “It was only a love tap, I was shocked when he went down like a bag of sh*t*. I’d clipped him just before, so maybe he was a bit confused and thought he should hit the deck for a penalty, like at Preston North End.”

The abrupt and seemingly painful way in which Wazza the Dazzler hit the floor initially caused some alarm at Man U, a spokesman for whom remarked that they pay their striker £350k a week to stay fit and score goals, not “ponce about with the toy gloves on and look stupid”. The club’s concern increased when it became clear that Rooney may have struck his head on a chair on the way down. “We were a bit concerned about possible brain damage,” said a member of the Pride of Devon medical staff, “but we realised that his hair implant would have absorbed a minimum 90% of the impact. Anyway, he hit his head, not his backside, so any cerebral or neural damage is most unlikely,” chortled the un-named medic.

Fighting Phil Bardsley, the one-punch marvel who dropped Wazza in a heap in his own kitchen, later expressed concern that, as a result of the incident, Rooney was now being heralded as the softest git in club history. “That’s rubbish,” insisted Bardsley. “It’s still Keano who’s the softest, soppiest git for me, easy. Look at how he backed down before Mick McCarthy in Japan, and ran halfway round the world to hide at home. Scuttling up from behind and elbowing harmless little Jase McAteer, that was about Roy’s mark. Even Shearer had him cacking himself. And he couldn’t take a punch, no way. Listen, Bryan Robson or Cloughie could lay that fairy out simply by breathing on him after a decent boozing session. Keane is all front – you can’t say that about Wazza. He’s mostly arse.”

The incident was caught on video and can (at the time of publication, anyway) be viewed from a link within this BBC article. Viewers should exercise caution due to the clip’s extreme levels of dangerous comedy humiliation, which could cause some sensitive readers literally to laugh themselves sick.

Louis van Gaal, the man in charge at the Theatre of Hollow Myths, was not impressed by the story, telling Life, Leeds United, the Universe & Everything: “I’m schimply not impressed by this schtory. Boxing is not conschistent with a footballer’s lifeschtyle. This must schtop … schtraight away.”

Rooney, who scored against Spurs on Sunday while still only semi-conscious, was unavailable for comment. It is reported that he will not be giving any interviews until the results of a custom-designed “below-the-waist” brain scan are available. Roy Keane, reported to be on a short, bromantic break with Adrian Chiles in Brighton, was also keeping a tight-lipped silence in the face of requests for a quote. He is believed to be furious at accusations of softness, but – being too frightened dignified to face Bardsley up and settle the matter like men – is settling for a few glowers instead.

Colleen Rooney is still a broad on holiday. 

Leeds: WACCOE Meltdown as Man U Could Patent the Word “United”   –   by Rob Atkinson

Seriously, folks...count on it

Seriously, folks…count on it

In a move that will dismay, even enrage, fans of Leeds United, Newcastle United and other famous old football clubs throughout the English leagues – as well as leagues elsewhere – Manchester United FC, known across the globe and in Paignton as the legendary “Pride of Devon“, have formally announced their intention to patent the word “United” for their own sole and exclusive use.

The former Newton Heath have long been offended that other clubs cheekily presume to use a suffix which they feel is their own exclusive province. Attempts on the part of the “other” Uniteds to conciliate have always fallen on stony ground and deaf ears; particularly when negotiations have included the undeniable fact that “United” in a football context signifies a club with the sole occupancy of its catchment area – as is the case with Newcastle, Leeds United, Carlisle and even Torquay – all areas which are served by just one professional club. Despite the fact that this means they’re actually, a fake United, the Man U position has always been airily to contend that it simply “doesn’t matter” and that they remain the only United anyone’s bothered about.

Such a rarefied level of auto-delusion so impressed a Regius Professor of Applied Psychology at Oxford University, that he decided to make the Salford-based club the subject of a thesis on what he described as “Walter Mitty Syndrome” – scientifically, an elevated stratum of specious self-deception. Sadly, after a full ten months work and within sight of a definitive conclusion, the good Professor succumbed to exhaustion from a chronic case of “laughing his poor, aching cods off at those arrogant idiots”.

Now the Pride of Devon have decided to go to law, and will call as witnesses representatives of the print and broadcast media, who have long followed a tacitly-agreed convention of referring to Man U simply as “United”. Strange as it may seem, this could lead to success in Court if the club can establish that the nomenclature has become solely theirs by the ancient principle of “custom and practice“. Another possible outcome is that an unbiased Judge (if such can be found) will take one look at the provenance of such evidence, and chuck the whole matter out of Court under the equally venerable statute of Nemo dictum stercus in Curia.

The Leeds United fan site WACCOE has gone into virtual meltdown at what they see as potentially a scandalously unfair development. Diverted for almost the whole of the last twenty-four hours from their usual preoccupations of reassuring each other as to how cool they all are, avidly discussing their fave sweeties (Snickers or Smarties??) – or discussing whether the best way to get to kiss a girl is by use of drugs or a blindfold, the “United” controversy has had many of the site’s users distraught – in copious floods of tears. Arguments at near-tantrum level have raged back and forth, with most proclaiming repeatedly that “you can’t patent a word. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t!” before dissolving into tragic sobs and wanting their mums. Other Leeds United fan-sites, catering for a distinctly more adult and mature user group than the broadly juvenile WACCOE, have by contrast reported a distinctly subdued reaction, with members either “not being bovvered”, or preferring to talk about Jeremy Clarkson and how crap Chelsea were last night.

The outcome of the legal proceedings is not likely to be known for some considerable time. If successful, however, it is likely that Man U would wish to adopt the word “United” as their new registered name, dispensing with the increasingly irrelevant “Manchester” prefix. There is even talk of the club relocating to the south of England to be nearer to the bulk of their fanbase. One possible wrinkle there is that Manchester City have expressed the intention, should they be left as the sole Mancunian football club in the area, of restyling themselves as “Manchester United“. Such a move would require the approval of the FA, UEFA, FIFA, Sky TV and the Gallagher brothers out of Oasis.

The average I.Q. on WACCOE is 35 at age 14.

Man Utd Stars “to Receive Counselling” After Unbiased Refereeing Display – by Rob Atkinson

Michael Oliver ignores Rooney's plea for sanity and dismisses di Maria anyway

Michael Oliver ignores Rooney‘s plea for sanity and dismisses di Maria anyway

It’s an enlightened football club that looks after its players after some major trauma or shock; attending to their emotional well-being instead of merely training them, like sporting automatons, to go out there and just perform, match after match. So we here at Life, Leeds United, the Universe & Everything are particularly impressed to hear that Man United, long recognised by themselves and the population of Devon and Cornwall as The Greatest Club in the World™, are to arrange counselling for their deeply traumatised players in the wake of Michael Oliver‘s shockingly honest performance during Monday’s FA Cup 6th round home defeat to Arsenal.

The counselling will take the form of gentle reassurance for those who are having doubts about their ability to dive convincingly, whilst Angel di Maria will receive special one-to-one therapy designed to restore his confidence that he can push the referee if he sees fit and do pretty much as he likes, as per his rights as a Man U player and the long-standing traditions of the club.

Some of the younger players are haunted by doubts about their ability to emulate former stars such as Cristiano Ronaldo and Mark Hughes, both of whom are legendary for spending a large percentage of their playing hours for the Pride of Devon on their respective arses, having performed a perfect swallow dive and double roll, ending up in a position of abject supplication, arms outspread in entreaty, mouth agape, outraged eyes fixed firmly on the referee.

This remains the officially approved method, according to a Theatre of Hollow Myths spokesman, although there is still scope for the “drop dead” method by way of variety, also known as “the sniper in the stand“. But, our contact informed us, the younger ones are feeling rather less comfortable with this approach in the wake of Oliver’s bizarrely unbiased showing on Monday.

“They’re prey to conflicting emotions,” said the Devon official. “Don’t get me wrong, they want to dive – it’s what they’ve been trained for, after all. But some of them are worried that their technique isn’t up there with legends like Ronaldo, Hughes and even current practitioner Ashley Young. Some of these young lads are harbouring thoughts of trying to beat a man and get a shot in, instead of letting their dramatic training do its job and going down like a good’un. Michael Oliver has done a lot of damage here, and all we can do is provide whatever support and reassurance is needed.”

Worse still is the fact that even senior player appear to be having the same doubts and insecurities, something that is reflected in the fact that The Most Fantastic Club in the Entire Universe™ are struggling even to qualify via the Champions League back door. Ashley Young is a case in point. “Yes,” our man admitted, “Youngy is having a really bad time lately. He’s just not playing his natural game. Twice in recent matches, he’s worked himself space inside the area – and then he’s gone and had a shot, bless him, when all his natural instincts as well as his training tell him to hit the turf and scream for a penno. So, instead of helping the team, he’s inevitably scuffing one wide, which looks really poor and, trust me, the boy’s as sick as a parrot. But we’re hoping to help Ashley too, with this restorative therapy programme. It’s what this great club is all about.”

Life, Leeds United, the Universe & Everything was unable to get a reaction from Michael Oliver himself. When we asked his refereeing mentor for a quote, we were told that Michael is currently incommunicado “until the fuss has died down”. It is understood that the “far too honest for his own good” referee will be spending the interim period relaxing in a place where he is unlikely to encounter too many irate Pride of Devon fans, at least until such time as that self-righteous and petulant anger has dissipated. He will therefore be sojourning “somewhere on the Pacific Ocean sea-bed” for the next five years.

Man United themselves have not commented at length on the Michael Oliver controversy, beyond a brief statement to the effect that “This is what happens when we have a ref who wants to make some sort of “fairness” name for himself. We’ll be demanding a Manc ref in the future, it worked up at Newcastle as you all saw, and it’s really for the best all round.”

Adnan Januzaj, 14, who now has as many yellow cards for diving as he does goals in his Man U career, is thought to be the 45th “next George Best”.

 

Man Utd to Sue Arsenal’s Welbeck for “Mental Cruelty” of Goal Celebration   –   by Rob Atkinson

Hands off, van Gaal

Hands off, van Gaal

In the wake of Man U’s tragicomic FA Cup exit – sorry, that should read simply “comic” – it has emerged that Manchester’s second club are prepared to go to law over hurt feelings, following former Theatre of Hollow Myths hero Danny Welbeck having the brass neck to actually celebrate his winning goal. Life, Leeds United, the Universe & Everything has learned that swift court action is likely, and that hopes are high throughout the West Country and the Home Counties that their favourites will still be stepping out for Wembley‘s showpiece occasion, the F.A. Cup Final.

The Pride of Devon’s tame legal firm – Messrs. Sue, Grabbitt & Runne – has issued a brief statement in the immediate aftermath of this calamitous upsetting funny defeat. “Mr Welbeck will be hearing from us.” it read. “His unwarranted celebrations were a knife to the heart of every true football fan, the grand traditions of the game and any real prospect of world peace itself. This evil must be stopped. Danny Welbeck must die moderate his behaviour henceforth.”

Attention has also fallen upon the unprecedented display of referee Michael Oliver, who remained scrupulously honest throughout, penalising foul play from both sides and, in particular, making a point of whistling for and punishing the earnest efforts of Man U players to dive for penalties. Mr. Oliver even sent Devon’s Angel di Maria off the field of play for diving and then pushing the ref during the tantrum that followed the refusal of a penalty.

A Man U spokesman admitted “We acknowledge as a club that this behaviour is simply unacceptable. We shall never be seen to tolerate that sort of thing at this fantastic club, officially the greatest club in the Universe and all four dimensions of space-time. We have that reputation to uphold and we are keenly aware of our responsibilities. The referee’s frankly obscene levels of honesty and consistency have left us all simply horrified and deeply petulant. Michael Oliver must die moderate his behaviour henceforth…. no, as you were – die.”

Welbeck bravely hides his utter grief

Arsenal’s reluctant hero Danny Welbeck bravely hides his utter grief

Questioned afterwards about his winning goal and the turbulent maelstrom of conflicting emotions that must surely be raging in a careening torrent through his tormented psyche and devastated mind, Welbeck merely commented, “‘S’all good, man, chill. I’ve never liked Man U all that much anyway. Did you clock them tekkers after nipping in ahead of de Gay? Quality that, man.”

Louis van Gaal, 83, has denied in the past few minutes that he is to take over as manager of the England cricket team.  Wayne Rooney, 19 stone, is fat.

Leeds Blog EXCLUSIVE: Bob Carolgees Replaces Spit the Dog with Man Utd’s Evans – by Rob Atkinson

Great Expectorations: Man U's Evans in prolific form

Great Expectorations: Man U’s Evans in typically prolific form

Life, Leeds United, the Universe & Everything has learned exclusively of a potentially exciting career development for one of Man Utd’s brightest young stars. After nine years trying to do football properly, Jonny Evans could be set for a sensational move into showbiz of a more traditional kind even than playing for the Pride of Devon. After his mouth-watering display of salivary skill against Newcastle United, Evans has been offered the chance to replace the legendary Spit the Dog as comedy legend Bob Carolgees‘ “right hand man”.

Carolgees was cautious when questioned about the possible link-up with the expectorating defender. “We’ll have to see,” said the former Tiswas icon. “Jonny is interested alright – who wouldn’t be keen to work with the best? But there are a few issues to sort out – he’s not even been cleared by the FA yet, though naturally that’ll be the merest of formalities.”

Spit the Dog

Spit the Dog

Bob’s former partner, Spit the Dog himself, was acknowledged as the brains of the team – but was surprisingly sold at Christies in 2004, raising over £5,000 at auction. It is estimated that it could cost almost twice as much to secure the services of Evans, but Carolgees is confident it would be a worthwhile investment. “Jonny has immense potential,” insisted the former OTT megastar. “You only had to look at the style and panache with which he directed that lump of gristly hockle at Newcastle’s Papiss Cissé. It was a thing of beauty, I’ve not seen dribbling skills like that since the days of Stanley Matthews or possibly even Daffy Duck“.

Man U's Evans

Man U’s Evans

Evans himself was unavailable for comment yesterday, having pulled a tongue muscle in Wednesday night’s action. It is understood, however, that he is keen to work with Carolgees and hopes that Man Utd will not deny him the chance to better himself. Other rumours are abroad since the St James Park incident; one source claims that Evans will make history by being the first non-latex star of the new series of Spitting Image. The player’s agent was quick to pour cold water on this, stating that whilst Evans had “no wish to be snotty”, he prefers to accommodate Carolgees’ guiding hand, rather than appearing with a whole bunch of comedy puppets. “Jonny’s had enough of that sort of thing whilst playing for Man U,” the sharp-suited agent confirmed. “He’s shown true British phlegm in his performances – but maybe it’s time to move onwards and upwards now.”

Papiss Cissé (29) is liable to carry the can and be stitched up a treat.