Friday, 10 February 2012

Pierre Applies To Be England Manager

Fabio shows us how many English words he's mastered.
It would appear it was "resignation".

Dear Football Association Chairman, or Dave if you prefer?

I would like to be considered for the position of England Manager. I have large and extensive experience at guessing football results, which makes me more qualified than Steve McLaren. I know the difference between 4-4-2 and 4-5-1, which makes me more qualified than Kevin Keegan. I know how the offside law works, which makes me more qualified than most women. I can communicate fluently in English which makes me more qualified than Fabio Capello. I have some charisma which makes me better qualified than Stuart Pearce. I don’t tolerate casual racism, which makes me better qualified than Sepp Blatter.

I don’t currently bank with the Nationwide but I would have no problem with opening a small current account with them if I had to. However the Umbro people are going to have to come up with something a bit less chavvy than their usual range of low-brow, sports casual tatt if you want me to wear any of that, which makes me better qualified than anyone who lives further North than Leicester.

I have a sure fire plan to beat the French, I can’t say too much in case any French spies are watching (you know what the French are like), but just think Agincourt and you’re not far away from my battle strategy. This makes me better qualified than Harold, former King of England and slayer of Harold Hardrader, King Of Norway and son of King Cnut The Great.

I think you will find me to be an excellent candidate given the dearth of English managerial talent currently coaching in the Premier League. Sure Harry Redknapp has made good strides at Spurs but if he’s prepared to pick in the midst of a Supremes tribute act audition he’s prepared to do just about anything. I’m happy to be paid into the aforementioned Nationwide Bank account so I don’t need to be paid into a secret Monaco bank account and I don’t even have a dog.

You saw what happened at Liverpool when Ray (I always struggle to remember his surname) Hodgson took over, his fleeting reign is known on Merseyside as “that time when that bloke who’s name we can’t remember was in charge and we were shit, although that does have something to do with him having to sort out the mess left by Rafa Benitez and deal with those two crooked yank money braggers”). It was an unfortunate time for anyone with a bubble perm, so much so that some people were even starting to mention him in the same breath as Graeme Souness and they had to hire an unintelligible Terrorhawks puppet to sort the mess out.

Plus, Alan Pardew may be doing a good job at Newcastle and I can see how his “deflecting attention away from an unpopular chairman” skills may be something you think about when you decide who to choose, it’s certainly a useful skill to have but if you think about it there has never been an England manager who’s name is Alan.

There’s a reason for that, and that reason is that the name Alan is cursed, cursed I tell you. Before you know it Steven Gerrard’s leg will finally fall off, Wayne Rooney will get some sort of replacement-hair-transplant based hormone imbalance issue which will see him grow boobs and turn his cock inside out. That’s just for starters, it’ll turn out that Wembley Stadium was built on a sacred Native American burial ground and the spirits of the braves will return to wreak havoc on those who have desecrated their final resting place. Your posh new stadium will either crumble around your ears or be swallowed up by a massive crack that creates a portal to the underworld, and all of this will happen before anyone’s even got on the coach to the Ukraine. Is that what you want? Is it? Oh and while I’m on about Wembley Stadium, FYI, you’re not fooling anyone by putting spicy relish on your burgers so they taste a bit posh and exotic just so you can hoick the prices up to £6.00 because you’re still paying off the builders.

And so the only logical choice, if you don’t want another expensive foreign coach is me. I am the only man/owl who could hope to beat the Spanish, the Dutch or the Germans, if anyone else tells you they can they’re lying to you.

Yours sincerely,

Pierre (Owl)

P.S. Call me.

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