Pinchy
Blade, not Bladey.
You can't handle the truth! Son, we live in a world that has mediocrity, and that mediocrity has to be guarded by men with no talent. Who's gonna do it? You? Monty has a greater responsibility than you can possibly fathom! You weep for Maradona and curse the Former Semi-Pro, Non-League, Reserve Keeper. You have that luxury. You have the luxury of not knowing what I know: that Football's death, while tragic, probably saved lives. And Hoof's existence, while grotesque and incomprehensible to you, saves lives! You don't want the truth, because deep down in places you don't talk about at football grounds, you want me on that ball! You need me on that ball! You use words like "quality", "class", "ability". You use these words as the backbone of a life spent defending something. Monty uses the ball as an electric blancmange! I have neither the time nor the inclination to explain myself to a man who rises and sleeps under the blanket of the very mediocrity that Monty provides, and then questions the manner in which he provides it! I would rather you just said "Thank you," and went on your way. Otherwise, I suggest you kick a ball hard, and kick it long. Either way, I don't give a damn what you think you are entitled to!
We :heart: Mediocrity and We :heart: Hoof!
Did you order the Code Red on Proper Football?
You're Goddamn right I did!
Colonel Nathan. R. Blackwell delivers a spirited defence of Hoofball in the classic movie: A Few Shite Players
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