I know David Moyes doesn't read my blog because he doesn't like bad language but it needs to be said that telling tales after school is really not kool. I say this not because I'm an Arsenal man and Cesc Fabregas is the second most beautiful man in the world after Andrey Arshavin, but because I hate tell tale tits and I hope Moyes never has another penny of lunch money to spend for the rest of his life.
We all know if Arsenal had been gifted a goal at Goodison by the referee Everton would have reacted the same way. Moyes really could have just let this go and focused on more pressing concerns for his team thus behaving in a manner more befitting a Premier League manager of any note. If he spent as much time coaching as he does being a rat faced spragger Everton might not be quite so shit and may even have won last night.
Because of swatty little fuckers like Moyes I spent the whole of my last year at Primary school on the naughty table with Toby Hawes, David Buckingham and a posh lad called Graham Foster who even at the age of 9 was incredibly racist - once being sent home from a school trip in the New Forest for refusing to eat with a n*gger (his words) - a West Indian girl from one of the other schools. I'm afraid that's true too. His father was a Wing Commander however so no wonder.
Listening to David Moyes last night telling tales about Cesc Fabregas swearing at teacher..I was immediately regressed back to that hellish final year at Gateway Primary school in 1984 and Sarah Colley telling on me for making the V-sign behind Mrs Adam's back.
From that moment on I was condemned to spend the rest of my time in Primary school helping Toby Hawes open his fucking pencil case and listening to Graham Foster's rants about why the gypsie kid in our class was going in the oven next time we got to bake ginger bread men.
Is it any wonder I am who I am?
The end.
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