Tuesday, September 02, 2008

Why Augustus Gloop & his dad have bought Manchester City.


Football. I never thought I'd utter that heinous word on here.

Like my occasional bouts of binge eating/binge drinking/binge bell ringing - I like to keep my footbally thoughts to myself. Except when it gets completely ridiculous and off the scale of fantasy stupidity and into the scale of... oh... just sigh. Sigh, sigh & thrice sighingtons.

Manchester City. A team given to me by my dad and probably the only non-genetic gift of his that I haven't rejected. Although, that's not strictly true, it's not like I rejected anything else he gave me, because I don't think he actually ever gave me anything else - except for a clip round the ear, a tanning of the behind and a few slaps on the back of the legs. But hey, gettin hit - it never did me any harm, I tell you. These crazy youngsters nowadays, eh? Eh? Teach em a lesson. They want lockin up. A bit of random drunken discipline from a grumpy irrational father figure, that's what they need. The buggers...

Manchester City. It's odd that we ended up City in our house when by regular rules of the Catholic Irish in Manchester we should have ended up a family of proper reds. Family on my mum's side all seemed to be Celtic/Utd fans - if they cared about fussball at all. The main rumour seems to be that granddad O'Sullivan lived in Moss Side when he first came over. But then the 2nd and only other rumour I know about grandaddy O'Sullivan is that he came over here, then went to America, didn't like it & came back - losing his O' somewhere along the way. Perhaps he missed going to see City. Boston Red Sox, were never going to match the unreletingly random up & downyness of being a City supporter.

Look, imaginary reader - I know you have no interest in sport - and that's fine. It really is. So, y'know, I'll see you next time, I'm just going to continue on my own. Fine. And don't slam the door on your...

Manchester City. To the uninitiated - Chaos Theory in action. And probably String Theory and Game Theory & any other theory that doesn't make any sort of sense, but somehow does to scientists armed with high foreheads and a 100 supercomputers. Just - if you're ever going to put on a bet - steer clear of bettin on Citeh. If they were a person they'd be diagnosed as having delusions of grandeur and multiple personality disorder.

I won't re-hash the ongoing nonsense. I won't remind those that don't know already that it was only a few years ago that we were playing Tinpot Athletic in the Bettabuy 3rd Division (North).

And then we were average for a bit. Averagely rubbish but with more managers than Britney Spears.

And then we got a lovely, happy, friendly ex-Thai Prime Minister who may/or may not have been responsible/or not reponsible for alleged/or not alleged human rights abuses and various instances of corruption. Which are all apparently not true anyway and nothing to worry about. I mean, it's Thailand, right? You're never gonna get proper justice there. Possibly. Although it is a very nice place and I would like to visit it one day. But, but, but... they wouldn't give our Frank, the ex-Thai Prime Minister his 800 million dollars back would they, these courts or lawyers or government people. They froze his money. Put it in the top bit of a big fridge next to the ice pops and fish fingers. What bastards!

So Frank, the ex-T.P.M., has had to sell City to Augustus Gloop & his dad. Remember Augustus?



My dear friends at Wiki-often-unreliable describe him thus:

In the original novel, Augustus is described as an enormous boy who has "fat bulging from every fold, with two greedy eyes peering out of his doughball of a head." His mother encourages his eating habits, saying that eating is his hobby, and that his habits are better than him being "a hooligan." She is blissfully unaware of the results of unhealthy eating, thinking that Augustus wouldn’t eat if he didn’t need to. [Wikipedia]

Isn't it nice that even minor fictional characters get their own page nowadays?

When will we run out pages? Will we ever? Can we grow enough electronic trees to make the electronic page paper? What if the credit crunch leads to a lack of zeros and ones? Will we end up importing them from China? China won't end up our principal source of binary coding will it? I have fears, I really do...

"Thaksin has signed a memorandum of understanding with Abu Dhabi United Group that would see the Arab company taking a majority stake in the club." [from the BBC] Replete with a photo of a traditionally dressed fellow holding a shirt that says *United* on it. Hmmm. Has a mistake been made. Do they realise who/what they are buying? Hmmm. Abu Dhabi chaps? Hmm? Or are you like Augustus, wanting everything. Everything!!! And definitely every every goalscoring superstar you can find... O, Spurs are you selling a fellow for £28 million? Hey, forget that, we'll give you £35. Put it in your pocket. Go on, treat yourselves. Get the wife a new island.

O! You lot. American owners/Icelandic owners/Russian owners... oh, I'm bored with the lot of you. It's all so unreal and pointless. I might just resign from ever caring. Like when the IPL cricket fandango was going on in, ahem, India - and the players were getting paid 8 gazillion pounds a minute for throwing a ball and hitting it and catching it in their hands - I was sort of left with a sense of ennui - or words to that effect. One-armed beggars sitting on their one leg on the streets of Mumbai; millionaire owners of cricket teams jazzing about in the stands half-watching games of bat'n'ball. There's all something not quite right about it all.

Football grounds are traditionally sited in the shitty areas of cities. So the proles can go and enjoy their entertainment on their Saturday afternoon off. Watch a match, have a beer, throw their hats in the air and hope that the hat they end up with actually fits. How does that fit in with multi-gazillionaire chairmen? Wanting to buy up every player in the world and wanting them now and all wanting to win every match ever. Now. Today. These new owners do know they can't win the World Cup, right? If that isn't too culturally insensitive and xenophobic of me to blurt out. Pah. I am almost devoid of opinions on the matter and if City start winning I will probably start cheering, just cos I can't help myself. But really... y'know... I mean... How can it be right?

Read Roald Dahl, people. Who *won* in the book? Was it Mike TeeVee (Liverpool's current chairman)? Was it Violet Beauregarde (Man Utd)? Was it Veruca Salt (90s grunge rocker & Managing Director Newcastle Utd)? Or was it honest, poor, brave Charlie Bucket (manager of Arsenal F.C)? Hmmm, which one was it?

Well the point has got lost as always. But Augustus Gloop got greedy, got fat, was too rich for his own good and sunk into a river of chocolate, contaminating everything he touched. You could buy your way into Willy Wonka's chocolate factory, but you couldn't win Mr Wonka's affections just by being super-rich and greedy. So nerrr. Take that super-rich. Eventually these super-richys will get bored and go back to doing what super-rich people are supposed to do: drive around in cars the size of housing estates, dally with the affections of attractive young lads n ladies, take drugs & play golf. Like your lovely footballers do when they're not playing *kick ball*...

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