You’re such a trip, man. You sit there, smug in your apartment, laughing at the world and mocking people you’ve never met.
So what the feck do you know about cricket, huh? You think just because you turned the old arm over at school, played a bit after school then followed the national team around you can talk? What gives you the right to mock the Zimbabwe Cricket board, huh? You can do better? They may be incompetent, but so are you buddy, so are you!
Ooh, look at you, you think you know football? You don’t know shit, my friend, just because you support Liverpool and Dynamos doesn’t make you a pundit. So you watch a few matches, read a few articles and check a few stats, but Martin Tyler you are not, my friend.
So you think you’re clever, just because you make a few jokes about there being a MacDonald’s restaurant on Downing Street? And that makes you what, witty? And the whole Baked Beans thing; you’re just an arrogant bastard, buddy, and not a funny social commentator.
Get a life, my friend, because you’re just another ordinary sad blogger in a world full of them. Instead of writing, get a steady girlfriend.
Better yet, just get laid.