(As imagined by Mark from Sport without Spin)
I’m Roy Keane. Great player, great manager. Not everyone is like me. Some people, like Ipswich players and those of a moderate temper, don’t understand what it is to live life without compromises. Feckwits, the lot of them. Philanthropist that I am, I’m going to take a little time out of my dog walking schedule to clear up the dog messes that are your lives. Before I do that, let me be clear – you should sort them out yourselves, you lazy, coddled, tossers. Since you can’t, though, I’m going to go box-to-box over the postbag…
Last week my side went out of the World Cup. A previously popular Frenchman handled the ball intentionally and illegally and in the process set up a goal which proved to be the difference between the two sides. I’m worried about the economic implications of losing millions of Euros next summer, and concerned about the sanctity of the game’s rules and can’t shake the feeling that this could all have been so easily avoided, but most of all I’m just sad at the injustice of not seeing our boys play at the World Cup next year. What should I do?
–Fruitlessly Arguing Irishman,Dublin
Get over it.
I’m a midfield powerhouse in your mould, but lately I’m more of a midfield solar-powered bungalow. I’ve fallen out of favour at my club; I don’t want to leave, but I want to play matches. At least if my career does wind down, then I can turn my attention to charity work in Dakar, which is a cause very dear to me. Any recommendations?
–Daddy Long Legs, Milan
Patrick – if you love Senegal so much, why don’t you fucking play for them?
Someone at school is being mean to me. Well, not mean, exactly, but they’re annoying me because of something they said three years ago. The teachers say that I should move on, and leave this feud in the past, and then I’ll be much happier. I don’t really want to though. What would you advise?
Listen, Timmy– there are some people who will try to tell you that it is best to forgive and forget – to just get over it. But what do they know? They’re just saying whatever comes into their overprotected pampered heads in between bites of their prawn sandwiches. Ignore the feckers.
Revenge is a dish best served studs first. Let the rage fire within you, slowly consuming you. I would use firelighters if I’m having trouble getting started, but I never do. Then, when the time is right, strike back violently and disproportionately.
If your teachers kick up (ha) a fuss, then have an excuse ready. When people asked me, for instance, why I said to Alf-Inge Haaland “take that, you cunt”, I just told them that we were discussing our favourite boy bands.