Belarusian suffering chronic case of stupid comment disease

Back in May, precious little Alex Hleb needed an excuse to get away from London, and decided to cite the noise - rather than bendy buses, overcrowding and Jade Goody - as a reason. Shortly after making these comments, he joined Barcelona, where honking car horns at night is considered mandatory and drunken screaming is the most common method of communication.

Yesterday, he added further fuel to the weak transfer excuse fire by inferring that his time in Blighty was marred by chaos (”In London things were very different, but there is no problem because we are professional and we can adapt to anything”) and that he is looking forward to his first real Christmas in Catalonia:

“Playing so many games in a short space of time over Christmas was very hard.

“For me, my family and Christmas are the best things in life, and I have been unable to see that for many years. Now I will be able to.”

The poor little darling, who was occasionally handsomely paid forced to travel around the country on Christmas Day, has also started whining about Hearts holding his brother to ransom:

“It would have been good had my brother come to Scotland but I don’t understand the politics of [Hearts owner] Romanov.

“He has been a short time in charge of Hearts

Man escapes by skin of teeth…

It doesn’t just break The Spoiler’s heart watching a grown man squander his talent and hit rock bottom, it rips it out, jams a stick of dynamite into the superior Vena Cava, right down into the Right Atrium, sparks it up, and BOOM! One exploded heart, one lake of salty tears. So, spare a thought for Kieron Dyer who plummeted to the depths just this weekend, according to The Sun. If the rumours they’re hinting at are true, the man was very nearly tempted to do it with Jade Goody. By which we mean sex. Luckily for him, her on/off boyfriend Jack Tweed turned up just as they were about to hammer out the terms of their sexual liaison. Presumably.

It wasn’t so long ago that Dyer had it all - pace, flair, the entire football world at his feet. He was going to be England’s very own Maradona, and women-wise, he could have snapped his fingers and gone out with Helen of Troy - or, in reality, someone classy like Page 3’s very own Leilani (pictured after the jump).

But now look at him - languishing in a hospital bed somewhere, relegated to entertaining cheap sexual thrills at the hands of the country’s most vile and unlikable racist. It should serve as a warning to all the young footballers out there who think they have it all.

Yes, Theo Walcott, we’re talking about you.