After the shooting stars at the Hawthorns on Monday night and celestially those I watched on Wednesday we now face the chumpions on Sunday.
Dr Mourhino, Lisbon donated a doctorate to him in 2008, well it’s gone to his head which is still firmly rammed between his glutes he must think he’s a real doctor. Well he is, Dr Sciatica, gluteal myalgia. This charming man (Johnny Marr a big Blue) is our manager, Charmless nerk is sung by Londoners Blur (enough said). Still searching for his runner-up medal from the Community Shield that he so disrespectfully tossed into the crowd, this medic episode provided a great deflection from his side’s abysmal failings.
When you really like some beautiful person you’ve just met or maybe a fresh pint of your favourite is in front of you or a toothpick digs in somewhere it shouldn’t, that tingly little feeling you get , well that’s common sense leaving your body. The special one must be tingling all over. Paresthesia it’s called but he’ll know that won’t he? No he’s not a real doctor but he knows how to nurse a grudge.
The special one (we lock ‘em up over here) is homozygous for the condescending chromosome. Mirror mirror on the wall his persistent vanity leaves me ehaustipated – too tired to give a shit. Roll on Sunday.