Peeps, this just REEKS of money laundering.

I think what one of the user comments said about the diabolic nature of football clubs shafting non-football creditors, such as ambulance services, hospitals and charities, with their circle-jerk bankruptcy restructurings couldn’t be true enough. And while the fans are to be pitied, it’s very hard these days to summon up sympathy for the clubs themselves when they go under in such a corrupt system, with spiralling ticket prices more evidence of their complete contempt for their “customers” in such dire times. Live by the blade, die by it, and good riddance to bad rubbish. Unfortunately, it almost never happens. Some fatcat will always throw in a pot of gold, because there’s a fanbase always ready to produce milk, no matter stringy the cow looks.

My hairline has receded but my skills have not

“I’m not TOO bitter about it, but an attractive medical hair care package for employees would be good, right, Roon?”

Now that the away leg of the first CL semi-final (Neuer vs Manyoo without Neuer, Unsuccessful David vs Goliath Edition) has played itself out, I thought this worthy of comment. The irony is so thick it’s like some sort of viscous sea I could swim in. To be fair, even Fergie probably never expected his most trusty long-term retainer to have the kind of freakish impact he had in the last 1-2 years, BUT EFFIN’ JOHN O’SHEA. It’s not the only eye-rolling football factoid on that list. Not to belabor the point too much, but Tevez’s wages from The Club Formerly Known as Plucky Citeh are insane. Although a very good player, he isn’t even vaguely in the same league as his countryman Messi, whether in an absolute or relative sense. Tevez simply doesn’t have the impact compared to Messi for their respective teams, as seen by Citeh’s tactics and how horribly dependent Barcelona have appeared in the last 1-2 months on Messi. But hey, how else is an oil sheik going to get players? Except for Robinho, he really was that dense.

This seems to be an attempt at showing how the familiar football fiefdoms have carved up London like some namby ponce version of the Warring States. Though considering the level of uncertainty (this is hardly a scientific census and you should prepare heaps of salt) in the demarcations, it’s more like the Holy Roman Empire than anything else.