Date: 15th October 2010 at 3:08pm
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There was yet another twist in the dramatic courtroom saga over the ownership of Liverpool F.C. last night, when presiding Queens Counsel Mr. Judge D Redd made an unprecedented ruling. The bored and indignant judge made his ruling in a most unconventional fashion. The lawyer of lame duck Liverpool owners Hicks and Gillett was half way through cross examining Reds Chairman Marin Broughton with a series of “you mama so fat” gags, when Judge D Redd loudly banged his hammer and yelled, “Oh, sod all this for a game of soldiers.”

A stunned courtroom looked on in an awed hush as the cantankerous old git sentenced, “Dunno about you lot, but I`ve had enough of this injunction, counter injunction, you sue me I`ll sue you yap, yap, bloody yap. Enough of this legal bum gravy; let us settle this like men.”

When pressed to elaborate, Redd outlined, “The decision as to which avaricious Americans own Liverpool Football Club will be decided by the ancient Etonian rugby game known as ‘cheese in the bum crack.` First, Mr. Henry will be invited to delicately perch a slice of English cheddar between his buttocks and, upon my whistle, will have to clench and run as far as he can without dropping said sullied cheddar. Once he has released the cheese from its murky prison, either one of Mr. Hicks or Mr. Gillett will be presented the chance to formalise a similar return. Whichever squabbling entrepreneur can carry his particular slice of pongy cheese the furthest, will win control of Liverpool F.C. Needless to say, the loser then eats the slice of cheese”

Messrs Hicks and Gillett seemed peculiarly pleased with the unconventional ruling, their spokesmonkey telling assembled reporters, “Now it`s a matter of letting the arses do the talking, which is great news for my clients, their buttocks are finely toned from years of talking out of their arses.”

Blackburn manager and serial delusionist Sam Allardyce has today reacted with fury at Danny Murphy`s suggestion that perhaps managers have to take some responsibility for the actions of their team. Murphy took a deep breath, grabbed hold of his testes and broke Premiership footballer convention by both speaking sensibly, whilst simultaneously refusing to bow to the golf club chumminess of top flight football coverage.

Murphy`s comments cost him a slot as a pundit on ITV`s coverage of England`s world ending, disastrous, apocalypse beckoning 0-0 draw with some country we don`t even think exists. An ITV lickspittle reportedly around ITV studios last week upon seeing Murphy`s comments and began tearing his hair out and shrieking like a girl. “We can`t have a pundit giving an opinion! Bwaaaaaarrrrrrrggggghhhh,” he is thought to have screamed just before he leapt out of the fifth floor window.

Meanwhile, Murphy`s scandalous outbreak of, errm, telling the truth, was met with further opprobrium from Blackburn boss and chief troglodyte Sam Allardyce, in between mouthfuls of steak and lard pie, Allardyce spat; “If I ever see that Southern woofter round ‘ere, I`ll brek his bastard neck. ‘Ow dare ‘e criticise the great Sam Allardyci, winner of the 2009-10 Champions League with Real Madrid on the Playstation 3.”

Whilst spilling half a pint of bitter on his greying string vest, Allardyce continued, “If ‘e wants to throw ‘ands, I`ll throw ‘ands. I`d like to challenge Mr. Murphy,” he continued, letting his wrist go limp and escalating his voice in an exaggerated effeminate tone, “To a fight on the cobbles, this Sunday, 3am behind the Dog and Duck in Preston. Only rules, no shirt, no shoes, no problem pal. Now get yer dukes oop you nancy.” Meanwhile, Stoke City groaned their support for Allardyce`s outrage, with Chairman Tony Scholes grunting, “Stoke no like Murphy, Stoke like big walrus man, oooh! Oooh! Ooh!” before attempting to hump the leg of a nearby reporter.

Spurs Chairman Daniel Levy has confirmed that Tottenham Hotspur have applied to Greenwich Council to build a new stadium on Plumstead Common. The shock move comes after it emerged that neither Haringey nor Newham Councils wanted the perennially unsuccessful North London football team within spitting distance of their jurisdiction.

The move is likely to invite scorn from Spurs fans still gripping tightly to their 97 year grudge against their far more successful, attractive, pert bottomed immigrant neighbours Arsenal, who began life playing on the stretch of South London green. But Tottenham have been forced into the audacious move, firstly when a representative of Haringey council responded to Levy`s threat to move the club to East London with a carefully worded statement. “Meh.” The hapless Levy`s hand was further forced when an Olympic committee spokesman responded to Tottenham`s bid for the new stadium in Stratford by saying, “You`re ‘avin` a bubble, aincha?!”

But proceedings took a dramatic twist on Thursday evening, with a dishevelled Levy turning up on the doorstep of Greenwich Town Hall, smelling of rum and special brew, pleading, “Pleeeeease! You`ve gotta take us!” A slightly more sober Spurs spokesperson announced on Friday morning that, “It is true that Tottenham Hotspur Football Club have put in a bid for stadium development on Plumstead Common. At this stage, beggars can`t be choosers you know, and we estimate we are around 124 years behind Arsenal in terms of success anyways, so, you know, this seems a symbolic place for us to be, innit?”

Experts from the Institute of pointless, tax draining studies predict that Newcastle United are due another hilarious soap opera incident “any day now.” The tumultuous Tyneside club famed for their illusions of grandeur, shirt dodging supporters and cavalcade of expensive, yet cack signings, have been conspicuously quiet since their return to the top flight. The Magpies have indulged an enormous departure from their heritage of hilarity in the last 12 months; having appointed a quiet, unassuming manager and stuck with him for more than 5 minutes, made steady, sensible transfer market purchases and an owner seemingly not hell-bent on getting his ugly, beer chugging mug on telly every 2 minutes in his overstretched replica shirt. Even Joey Barton appears to have stopped being a colossal pr*ck for a week or two.

But academics have dismissed this period of uncharacteristic quiet is merely, “the calm before the conga line.” Leading busy body at the Institute John Fondleberries said; “It`s true things have been suspiciously quiet at everybody`s favourite freak show for the last year, but we predict that they`re just saving it all up for some juicy, rib tickling misdemeanours in the coming months. Hilarity is just around the corner kids, so stay tuned.”

Amongst Fondleberries` predictions were that Paul Gascoigne would be appointed club dietician and turn up for his first day at work with a fishing rod and some pants on his head, Ant ‘n Dec would become Directors of Football, whilst Kevin Keegan could reappear at the club as “Defensive Coach” before quitting in a huff again three days later due to a “complete lack of Snickers bars in the club canteen.”

Serial whinger, mirror botherer and occasionally very good footballer Carlos Tevez has made yet another extraordinary outburst this week, slamming his boss Roberto Mancini for, amongst other things, “Making me eat smelly, horrid broccoli!” The Argentine lip trembler has a chequered history of self pitying, navel gazing statements. Having left Manchester United because mean old Mr. Ferguson didn`t play him enough, Tevez confused those with a sense of logic when he last week moaned that he may have to retire early due to playing too much.

But Tevez left metaphor lovers everywhere in stunned silence when he threw his toys out of the pram at a press conference yesterday. Literally. Hurling a jewel encrusted rattle out of his McLaren pram (with gold rims, natch), Tevez screwed up his face, oh no, wait, that was his normal face and whinged, “Mr. Mancini is stinky and horrid. Last night, he wouldn`t let me stay up to watch the end of Mighty Morphin Power Rangers and the day before that, he told me that I wouldn`t get dessert unless I ate my greens. Naturally, being a professional, this hurt my pride. So I reacted professionally. I locked myself in his office and told him I wasn`t coming out till he gave me ice cream.” When asked how the dispute was resolved, Tevez sheepishly admitted, “Mr. Mancini started rattling his keys and making gurgly noises and I forgot all about it.”