An MoL correspondent SMSs on MoL bemoaning itself too poor for a cocaine habit: Hats off to impoverished and resourceful ketamine users. Gone are the days of Paul Merson. Friend wants to write book called Legless with Gazza.
Quite so, says MoL. In that respect, a good cameo for a Gazza England colleague, one of MoL’s all-time shit list heroes. MoL especially liked way he took young players to the cleaners playing cards. MoL saw Steve McManaman (Liverpool, Real Madrid; taking the money to sit on the bench) commentating now, at the Emirates looking blowsy. Nothing pleases MoL more than a twelve-bore football commentator. Gary McAllister abysmal, worse even than Michael Owen, who is having training to sound more exciting. Worst is Graeme Souness, who dismissed at length an extraordinary interview with Adebayor (brother dead, Togo players killed) before saying he hadn’t seen it. MoL doesn’t understand why you have to be ex-player to pundit. Favourite is still Alan Shearer. No one sets the bar higher for dullness. A Shearer analysis of a goal was quoted in letters page of recent mag: Here comes the, here comes the goal, here.
MoL also recently watched terrifying doc called The Short Game, about seven-year olds playing competitive golf, most of them already loaded with trophies. It must take ages for a child to get round a golf course. Something about the size of these short people, all speaking like Jack Nicklaus, and the distances involved were truly scary. Their minds like Polynesian shrunken heads: perfectly formed but absolutely tiny.