‘And the Lord God prepared a gourd and made it to come up over Jonah that it might be a shadow over his head to deliver him from grief. So Jonah was exceeding glad of the gourd. But God prepared a worm when the morning came the next day and it smote the gourd that it withered.’
And that, Readers, is the story of the European Super League. One day it was there. The next day, like Jonah’s gourd, it had withered. The idea was that AC Milan, Arsenal, Atletico Madrid, Barcelona, Chelsea, Inter Milan, Juventus, Liverpool, Manchester City, Manchester United, Real Madrid and Tottenham would all play each other in midweek games. There would be no promotion, relegation or elimination, just an endless loop of football to delight television viewers across the world. Players would be flying all over Europe during the week and dragging themselves back for ordinary Premier league games at the weekend. Only you can bet your bottom euro that the star players would be kept on ice for the midweek games and the babies would be wheeled out to play Burnley or West Brom. To hell with the fans. These billionaire owners do not care about the local fans. This is not about love of the club. It is about money – the money you get from selling the games to TV and selling shirts. That is why games are now played on every day of the week to suit the TV schedules. That is why London fans have to drag themselves up to Manchester on a Monday night with no chance of getting home before 2 am because the game has to start at 8 pm, and vice versa That is why a match ticket costs more than a trip to Covent Garden. That is why clubs change their strip every season and have three strips, which they flog at exorbitant prices. Do you think these guys understand the love affair between a fan and his or her football club? Clearly they do not, because the outcry from this licence to print money was so great, and the threats from the Premier League and UEFA to ban every player from any competition so swift, that the six English club owners crumbled like Arsenal’s defence and backed down, offering profuse apologies drafted by their PR teams.
Football has long been about greed – the outrageous salaries paid to players, the outrageous fees paid for players, the outrageous commissions made by agents, the repeated squeezing and inconveniencing of the fans. With the exception of Russia’s Roman Abramovich, who cannot actually get to see his team Chelsea play live because the UK will not let him in, most of the billionaires who own the UK clubs never come and watch a game because they live in the US or in Monaco and probably do not even like football – or should that be soccer? It is significant that the big German clubs were never going to put their noses in the trough because German law provides that fans have a major stake, and so they would never have consented to it. The Super League was a chance to make some very rich captains of industry even richer. It failed. But they will come up with something else sooner or later. And it won’t be the supporters they are thinking about when they do it.
We start our review of the week’s clothing chaos with model and TV presenter Heidi Klum in silly leather trousers.
Imagine going through a metal detector in those – there would be armed police and doggies and evacuation orders and all sorts. Plus they are downright pervy, like something you’d find in one of those dodgy clubs off Berlin’s Reeperbahn.
We next visit the Latin American Music Awards where we encounter singer Christian Chavez, wearing Jusef Sanchez.
This suit appears to be the lovechild of a job-lot of pockets and the safari suit worn by Prince Charles on his trip to Uluru with then wife St Diana of Kensington. There’s a profusion of dangly bits, no shirt, not even of any kind, and not enough trouser leg. This could be one of the silliest suits WTF has ever seen, and that is saying something.
She’s back! Yes, it is actress Dascha Polanco, wearing House of Jewel.
The lovely Dascha has ventured out in an elongated straitjacket, a miniature stockade around her neck and a turd topknot.
Now we are off to the American Country Music Awards where we find a newcomer to these pages, singer Devin Dawson wearing something surprising.
YEE-HAW!! WTF is surmising that Devin did a spot of bareback riding prior to the ceremony and fell off into a large cowpat.
Also there was singer Ingrid Andress, wearing custom Stella McCartney.
Regular reasons will know that WTF has long thought that Stella has been taking the piss and here is yet more evidence, were more evidence required, which it was not, that she was right. What is this recent thing for macrame tits? Last week, we saw Maisie Williams in a macrame potholder bra and here is Ingrid with a conical bra like Brunnhilde wearing a macrame wall hanging. Please can this stop?
And here is the host of there event, actor and singer Leslie Jordan wearing something colourful.
He is attired in one of those painted backdrops you hire for parties. It is fun, but the effects of those overly-snug trousers could be rather less than fun when he removes them. As for the boots, WTF prefers not to speak of them….
Finally, and horribly, former Big Brother contestant Chanelle McCleary wearing a ‘jacket’ by Zara and alleged ‘trousers’ by Pretty Little Thing. WARNING – THIS IS BAD!
AND HERE IS ANOTHER WARNING TO GO WITH THE FIRST WARNING!!!
You have to stoop pretty low to make Lauren Goodger look classy, but compared to Chanelle here, Lauren is Audrey Hepburn. The ‘jacket’ has been tied so as to act as a Minge Mask and the ‘trousers’ appears to be no more than a pair of tights with the pattern nicked from the album cover of Pink Floyd’s The Wall. And how does she put then on and off with those talons?
This week’s It’s Got to Go comes from WTF aficionados everywhere, who cannot stand the sight of our Prime Minister turning up on important State occasions like a sack of shit. It was bad the other week when he announced the demise of Prince Philip while giving the impression that he had just got out of bed. This week he pitched up at the Virtual Climate Change Summit looking like he’s been popped into the oven at 220 C.
What is it about the British that they cannot get the hang of sunscreen? The sun burns your skin, even in this troglodyte nation. Especially when your normal pallor is that of a peeled prawn. It’s Got to Go.
OK Readers, that’s your lot for this week. Let us meet again next Friday. And keep those splendid suggestions coming in for It’s Got To Go, not to mention your comments. Be good x.