Man City v Southampton
SUN 24 MAY 2015 - PREMIER LEAGUE - 15:00
About the Opposition
Club History
It has always been my dream, once my millions have been made, to gather my capital and open the biggest, gayest nightclub that England has ever seen. I would call it Man City. I would dress the dancers in baby-blue shorts, and we would all gather round on a weekly basis, to watch them suck. And while they suck, we would sing encouraging songs about delicious blue arses. “Blue Moon,” we would sing, whilst we firmly grip the shaft of our nearest neighbour, “you saw me handling a bone,” and so on, I forget the rest of the lyrics. Sometimes, right, we would all turn around, link arms, and present our sexy blue bums to the world. It would be fantastic! I defy even the straightest male not to harden at this super-camp scene, even if, as may prove the case, some of the on-stage dancers look like James Milner.
I don’t know how Noel Gallagher came across my business plan, but cum across it he certainly did, because in 2008, he did exactly as I outlined.
In Sept 2008, Man City opened its doors, as the North-West’s first openly gay superclub. Noel Gallagher was overjoyed! For a while, you could hardly move without seeing the smug face of him, or his brother, gurning proudly from one stadium or the other, and to be fair, they did enjoy a fair amount of early success, courtesy, one imagines, of the Pink Pound. But it did not last. As the years ticked by, they became increasing bloated and expensive, and every subsequent performance was somehow less likeable, less impressive, than those that came before. People began to drift away. Sure, occasionally you still meet a die-hard fan who claims that they are still exciting, valid and interesting, but they are deluded. Indeed, on impartial consideration, it is hard not to conclude, that only the first album was any good.
The Manager
City of Manchester Stadium, 1st Team Changing Room, January 2015
The match was over. A 2-0 home defeat to Arsenal, had signaled a death knell to the Man City title challenge, and the career of their manager, Manuel Pellegrini. Most of the players had already gone, to play supercar chicken on the M6, and to spit-roast delicious Hollyoak crumpet in night-club toilets. Only a few stragglers and slow coaches remained, staring sombrely into the black soul of their Audemars Piguet watches.
David Silva smelt something. He looked accusingly at James Milner. “What crawled up your arse, and died?”
Milner did not reply. He was staring at the dressing room door, an expression of pure terror on his face. Everyone turned.
“Oh fuck no!” screamed Yaya Toure.
Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the flickering fluorescent hue of a malfunctioning strip light, was the zombified corpse of Manuel Pellegrini. He stretched his gnarled hands towards them. “Brains,” he said. The word fell from his drooling lips like a threat, and fell clunking to the floor.
The players scattered. Yaya jumped out a window, Silva hid himself in a kit bag. Only Milner remained, cowering in the corner, half-naked, and too utterly petrified to move.
The zombie shuffled towards him. “Brains,” it repeated. “Must. Eat. Brains.” It stood over James Milner, and looked down on him with yellow, lifeless eyes. Then it sighed, disappointed, and turned away.
“Brains,” it said mournfully. “Must. Find. Brains.”. Maybe it would have more luck in the Arsenal changing room. Assuming Jack Wilshere stayed home.
Top Wag
Samir Nasri’s compensation for being Samir Nasri, is Anita Atanes. I don’t begrudge him this. It’s only fair. If I had to be Samir Nasri, it is the least that I would ask. Nasri has taken full advantage of his good fortune, and in the 20 months since he first received Anita Atanes, he has spent 14 of them “injured”.
Things People Say About Man City
“You can buy great individuals, but you’ll never be United.” - Sir Alex Ferguson
