Garth Crooks

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If Dante's Inferno were ever to be given a modern reboot, one of the circles of Hell would contain Garth Crooks pontificating on matters football for eternity, while the souls of the dammed sprint through to the preferable torture next door of having salt rubbed into a never-healing paper cut on your bellend. The pompous, clueless, arrogant fuckwit.
Dante and Crooks. Never expected to see them mentioned in the same paragraph. Yet both cast giant shadows across the literary world…just for very different reasons.
 
I always liked Garth Crooks, he was a brilliant counterbalance to the majority of the other bland pundits with no personality.

His melodramatic analysis was entertaining to watch but you could never take him seriously enough to be annoyed by it.
 

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