Paul Jewell – crusader, proving the severity of your cancer, ‘commercially successful pictures’, and the usual footballing hypocrisy.
“I think everyone to a man thought it was a penalty. Unfortunately to every man, but not a woman. Although the referee didn’t have a good view, I thought the lineswoman, or whatever she’s called, had a great view.” This is the kind of thing that Paul Jewell says, when he’s not fucking potential lineswomen, who aren’t his wife, but are other men’s wives, over the hood of his, Beemer. Now, I doubt that there are many men who watch and play football whose instinct doesn’t react to the concept of female officials without at least a soupçon of negativity – the dynamic between men and women is different to that between men and men, and in the emotionally strained atmosphere of a football match, one that might cause discomfort – but that doesn’t mean that it should. And either way, for Jewell to suggest that Amy Fearn got a decision wrong because she’s female, to suggest that the ability to make the correct one is a solely male capacity, before challenging her right to infiltrate his – nay our domain – completes the picture of a thoroughly nasty cunt. What a thoroughly nasty cunt.
Morality, forms of.
Last night the Lords raised their objections to proposed changes to the benefit system. They rejected means testing the employment and support allowance to disabled and severely ill people after only a year, something that would, bloody hell, make cancer patients dance through hoops to prove the severity of their cancer. Yeah – the severity of their cancer. The proposal was attacked by Lord Patel, a crossbencher and former president of the Royal College of Obstetricians, saying, “If we are going to rob the poor to pay the rich, then we enter into a different form of morality.” That new form of morality is of course immorality, one of the few manifesto promises the Conservative party have been able to stick to in coalition government.
Following the triumphant impact of his social and economic initiatives, David Cameron has turned his multidisciplinary expertise towards the arts. Prior to visiting Pinewood Studios yesterday, he ordered the film industry to support “commercially successful pictures”, which is actually a concise summation of who and what he is: a vapid, vacant, soulless, selfish ignoramus, lacking the remotest understanding of anything extraneous to money and power.
Last week Roberto Mancini was effectively forced to apologise by the press after indicating that he wanted an opposing player to be sent off. A few days later, he was to be found complaining when notorious law-abider Wayne Rooney indicated to the referee that his captain, Vincent Kompany, had flung himself into a two-footed tackle, for which he was dismissed. Then, last night, he requested that the authorities review a tackle made by Glen Johnson – not dissimilar to Kompany’s, or Dhalsim’s for that matter – and was upbraided for his hypocrisy by the unimpeachable Steven Gerrard. Which is a long-winded way of saying that none of them are arsed about anything but winning and themselves, not necessarily in that order. I’m noticing a pattern here; what a miserable world.
Image from welloffside.com