So, have any of you lot watched a chick flick? No? Well you are a fucking liar. You’re on a football site – so you must, therefore, like football – and like most of us, you probably watched, over the last two weeks, snipits of, what is, essentially, a film made for a girl, or, what the sporting community like to call it…barca-fucking-lona.
Yes, it starts with the nice guy, losing. Thee nice guy of football, on it’s knees after falling to thr might of an Italian. A sexy Italian, with slicked-back hair and an over- powering musk. The world wept. “Oh, no!” They cried. Not the nice-guy…with their intricate little ideas all rolled into a 5ft 9in frame.
Life then gets tough for our hero. Up steps their mortal enemy; lifting our hero up by the feet, shaking them around for two separate 90 minute segments. Their Portugese power proving too much for the nice-guy as he stoops lower than he has ever done before. Some question whether he’s a hero at all. At this point a hypothetical female presence probably left the nice guy for some Piri-piri seasoned loving, but not before a large slice of some Italian Stallion pie.
The hero feels really sorry for himself. The people around him start to probe. “Boo”, they shout. “Hiss” .”He’s washed up, he’ll never be the same again. It’s over for our hero. He’ll never mount a comeback” Even you, the viewer doubted our man! Didn’t you!!
But, then, the hero became a hero again. He grows back some balls, outwits the dirty Italian, wooed the female interest again (let’s call her pressilla) and now they are the nice guy, hero bloke again that everybody loves. Blah, blah!
So, in the end, you all unknowingly watched a chick-flick. All of you! And you bloody enjoyed it didn’t you. Didn’t you! but – like watching a conventional chick flick – did you, honestly, get laid at the end of it?
yeah, i thought not.