Bad news for Hodgson, bad news for Houllier…
Some ragged rocks await Roy Hodgson… apparently
Presumably choosing football over a front row seat at London Fancy Dress Week at the very last minute, Lampsie and Christine Bleakley took Frank’s dad to the Chelsea match. In a reportage piece on The Daily Mail, you can enjoy the highlights from their afternoon, which include: Frank yawning, and Christine waving at Ginger Spice.
Here’s what else we know about football, thanks to the likes of the ooh-ah Daily Star, The Mirror, and some other ones with bigger words in smaller print for posh people.
In a real life football equivalent of being misinformed by a lady’s heavily padded bra, Roy Hodgson is coming to realise that beneath Anfield’s glossy finish there’s just a disappointing pair of saggy tits – namely Gillett and Hicks.
To continue this awkward boob metaphor, the club is now looking for a decent set of implants, but the word on the street is that if they do manage to replace the old ones, the sexy new Liverpool won’t fancy Roy Hodgson any more.
Martin O’Neill has already been linked with his job.
Just across the way in Manchester – past numerous chip shops, and an area of beautiful countryside that acts as a flowery makeshift roof to Gary Neville’s weird underground mansion – Sir Alex Ferguson has been figuratively urinating all over Gerard Houlliers frites, by insisting that Michael Owen is not for sale.
And Man City reject, Shay Given, might yet be reacquainted with the fat topless women who sing in the stands at Newcastle, but only on loan.
That is all.