Crouching Tiger, Hidden Sausage
Gooood morning, Vietnam. Or at least that’s how it feels. A whole box of public relation hand-grenades have been popping off this weekend as Peter- all round bloody nice guy– Crouch has been caught with his pantaloons askew. And eight-hundred bucks lighter for his troubles. There’s more than a modicum of buzz in rumoursville today hinting that punishment for such a blunder might just involve a trip back up the Mersey. Presumably where Miss Clancy can keep one of her good eyes on him. While he’s chained to a radiator. You’ve all seen Saw.
Meanwhile, in some distant pocket of the galaxy, Nicholas Anelka is telling people- real people– that Spurs can win the League this year. The last time that idea was ballyhooed- Heurelho Gomes, back in the pre-two-from-eight Ramos epoch- I nearly puked molten-hot tea into my keyboard. I think we can do it, he told us, before spinning off the planet at The Britannia and taking the decapitated heads of our centre-backs with him. God bless him. Le Sulk, though, what’s he up to? Bandying around talk like that. Something fishy no doubt. I think we should just go ahead and win the Champions League now just to show him.
Yeah. That’d do it. Smart arse.
In other news, the Craig Bellamy saga is still chugging along. There appears to be no stopping it. ‘Arry, for the umpteenth occasion since May, has bared all in his pursuit for the Cardiffian firebrand. Seemingly all the boxes are ticked. Hard-working, dynamic, GSOH. All qualities Redknapp is keen on. Bar a number of monetary creases to be flattened- mainly Man City have too much of the stuff- I would imagine he’d be with us by Wednesday. The Milner deal should set things off.
Bracing yourself might be in order.
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