Fairytale my arse.
Well done on staging everything. Taking something genuine and real and slapping a Sun fucking logo on it. Pointing to the big man who’s out of shape, and saying ‘It’s your lucky day fatso! We’re gonna make you a star!’, before turning him into a roly-poly court jester you literally command to eat on television for ‘lolz’.
‘Chomp on this you big lardy bugger. Stuff this stodgy pie in your fat greedy face and chew on it hard. Eat it, gorge it. Nose-breathe heavily whilst it clogs up your arteries and we throw coins at your swollen belly and laugh.’
8-1. Fair odds to chew up and spit out a non-league player who can’t believe his luck. Get him to eat it on the bench, in full view of the prime-time audience, so that the cameras can catch every last crumb of the ‘magic of the cup’ disappear into his cakehole in perfect high defintion.
Turn him into a viral sensation – ‘legend’ to ‘sell-out’ in ten minutes flat – and then cast him aside like a stale pastry carcass on the 3G pitch.
Wayne Shaw faces backlash. Wayne Shaw criticised by chairman. Wayne Shaw investigated by the Gambling Commission and FA. You know what? Fuck him. Because you’ve got your publicity and he’s got his pocket change and next week no one will give a shit about Wayne fucking Shaw.
'Banter' staged by the Sun. Not sure it gets worse. pic.twitter.com/ffOohIMfjy
— Nooruddean (@BeardedGenius) February 20, 2017
Forget that he’s left with the fallout. Forget that his teammates worked really fucking hard for the biggest game of their lives. Abuse the occasion to promote your mucky brand of fan-shaming, lie-packed, phone-hacking filth, and make it all so grubby and hideous that people at home actually want the minnows to lose.
Choreograph the fuck out of everything. Stamp it with your ugly seal. Make the town of Sutton a fucking circus for the day and manufacture such mouth-breathing idiocy that even the writers of Mrs Brown’s Boys would take one look at the script and say: ‘Nah lads, that’s a bit too crass and lame for us…’
Infect football with a level of ‘banter’ so pitiful and ultimately cruel that it would make that Dapper Laughs prick think twice. Because after all, it fits with your lowly assumptions and utter contempt for football fans everywhere. They’ll lap up this shite because they are shite, the scummy proles.
Of course any genuine expression of fan joy is dangerous and must be stopped. A two-minute pitch invasion to celebrate a goal is simply not on. Flares around football grounds? Oh deary me, that just won’t do. Unless of course the dramatic images can be used ten years hence to fetishise and commoditise the ‘casual state of mind’ from a safe distance.
In the meantime, we should all just sit the fuck down and sup on overpriced sugary pop. Except we’re all too dangerous having any sort of fun, so we’ll have to remove the fucking top. Go ahead and sanitise everything we love and replace it with lowest common denominator bollocks because that’s all we truly deserve. That and a rag of hateful lies.
Magic of the Cup? Aye, that.
