Hello again Poo Chatters! Doesn't Monday just wiz around before you know?
Last week was rather exiting for an old footballing friend of mine, Mr Kevin Keegan. Seven days ago he was pottering about at the Soccer Circus in Glasgow, but by Wednesday he was back in the saddle at Newcastle, ready to ride the Geordies into another CERR-RAZEY adventure!
This news hit the headlines like a cold-wet football to some wind battered bollocks. What? When? King Kev! Can he do it? Isn't he an emotional wreck of a man, incapable of wiping his own bottom? Speculation was rife, but the general consensus points towards abject failure.
After all this I took it upon myself to visit the future and interview the Kevinator. The following is a transcript of the event. But remember: as you are reading this in the present it is most likely to cause a temporal disruption and therefore create an entirely different outcome (or not as the case may be).
Poo Chat: Good morning Kevin, how's life?
Kevin Keegan: Pretty good, in fact great!
PC: Glad to hear it. Now our readers back in 2008 have only just discovered your re-appointment. Can you let them know what has happened since?
KK: I'd love to [Kev's eyes widen in a crazed fashion], LOVE TO! So, it started with a draw with Bolton, people were already muttering about us messing up, but I knew best. I quickly introduced a no shorts or pants strategy. And it led to our most incredible run ever!
PC: Wow, so how did that work?
KK: Well quite simple really, it all started away to Arsenal in the FA Cup.
I was about to lead the lads out, when I had the brain wave: "Lads lets stick it up 'm today" I yelled "get your nobs, balls and bums on display and let's get stuck in!" They loved it, AND I MEAN LOVED IT! They flew out of that tunnel like shit from an irritated bowel.
Old Wenger's eyes nearly fell out of his head! "Beautiful football?" I said to him, "get a load of this you fancy French ponse!"
Twenty-four nil we won, those southern fairies had their eyes on the wrong balls for the whole 90 minutes!
PC: So you stuck with the free tackling approach?
KK: Sure did, we blitzed the rest of the season, won the league and the FA Cup! And all thanks to our uninhibited new style. The Toon Army had their first silverware since '69, and I'm not talking about Alan Shearer's silver medal in the "Considerate Lover's Roasting Olympics".
PC: That must have been the best feeling of your career so far?
KK: What? Not a chance, the best moment that season was finally getting my own back on that smug prick Alex Ferguson.
PC: How did that come about?
KK: Well, it was Saturday the 23rd of February 2008, Man United were visiting us in the league, and the build up had been tense. Fergie was spoiling for a fight; I think he even brought up my "outburst", no one pulls that shit with me.
On top of this he'd managed to desensitise his payers to our tactics by getting Rio Ferdinand to parade around the locker-room waggling his willy (and singing "I like the way you move" by The Body Rockers) at the players until they no longer found it distracting. It was going to be a big match, so I had to pull the trump card!
There was only one thing for it: a direct anti-Alex initiative! I Had a quick word with Damian Duff. "Duffer, you're going to have to sacrifice yourself." I said. He knew what I expected.
Five minutes gone and the Mancs had the upper hand, our exposed bolocks were making no difference what so ever, in-fact Rio was still bare and humming and to make matters worse that winker Ronaldo had done the same thing, disgusting! It was time for Duffster to do his thing.
Whilst chasing the ball down the left wing, he spotted Fergie close to the edger of the dugout. Feigning a bad tackle, Damien lunged towards Sir Alex. Just before going to ground he pulled the belt from the United managers trousers. Now, as most managers know from the after match bottle of wine, Fergie is allergic to baked-beans and underpants. So, as soon as his trousers hit the floor the Milburn Stand was treated to a view of Alex's phallus and testicles!
A chant soon rang out across the stadium "YOUR BALLS ARE AS RED AS YOUR NOSE!" Then they spotted the skid mark in the back of his beige trousers (I'd managed to slip a baked-bean into his chewing gum packet): "FERGIE'S GOT A SKID MARK!"
The best day of my life, I loved it. LOVED IT!
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