 Following recent crisis talks over the state of England’s youth set up, it is with considerable shock EatFootball reports on sinister machinations within the FA, aimed at combating a future crisis in our game.
We are all aware of comments heard on the terraces alluding to a certain player’s origin of species. Some are positive, some negative - but none are actually literal. “He’s a terrier,” for example, highlights a player’s tenacity and commitment to a cause. It does not mean said player is going to fasten his choppers onto an opponent’s testicular area, attempt to hump the ball, and liberally defecate on the field of play.
Well, maybe Gazza.
Likewise, an irate shout of “You donkey!” is indicative of a player’s cumbersome form plodding about the pitch and failing to contribute in a worthwhile manner. It does not mean said player is a big-nosed, hairy, braying half-wit.
Well, all right, often it does. BUT …
Whilst innocently wandering down a country lane*, this reporter happened to tumble into what at first appeared to be a simple volcanic crater. However, once at the bottom of the ‘crater’, EatFootball’s top sleuth discovered** the ‘water’ was actually cunningly painted metal! While crouching warily*** beside it, a grinding of gears rent the air and the metal slowly slid to one side, revealing a vast underground lair!
How this heavily guarded fortress was infiltrated will be revealed in this reporter’s autobiography: “Sights Wot I Have Seen When Coming Home From the Pub With a Kebab” (BS Press, release date unconfirmed). Suffice it to say, EatFootball readers will be shocked and appalled – but probably not all that surprised – when I reveal that many top flight footballers are the product of a youth programme of genetic modification, involving the splicing of animal genes with human in the search of the ‘perfect’ footballer.
This reporter personally witnessed young footballers being injected with animal DNA! Before EatFootball’s very eyes, a ‘subject’ lying on a bed marked ‘defender’ was injected from a syringe labelled “Rhino”. It had a picture of John Terry on the front.
Alas, astonishment caused this reporter to cry out and be captured like a big girl. It seemed a black day for EatFootball. Luckily, the bald man stroking a white cat, which had the face of Sven Goran Eriksson and incessantly purred “I am sorrrrrrry”, was in a chatty mood. Introducing himself as Geoff Thompson of the FA, he was good enough to explain their project in some detail.
“This is not a new undertaking,” he explained. “It’s been ongoing for some thirty years. The current Premiership is littered with products of our Footballer Factory. Some of the results have been pleasing. Most pleasing. Others were, in retrospect, misguided.”
Thompson then admitted that genetically modifying Titus Bramble with the DNA of a bear seemed like a good idea at the time but not, in retrospect, that of a Koala Bear.
“We’ve actually employed a zoologist now,” he admitted, “so mistakes like that are a thing of the past.”
When asked to list all Premiership players affected by this dastardly scheme, Thompson gave a maniacal laugh.
“Give away all my secrets? I’m sorry, but I think not,” he sniggered, prompting Sven the Cat to more purrs of “I am sorrrrrry” on his knee. With that, he strapped me to a laser and left me to die. Luckily, being technology, the FA had failed to agree on whether the laser was beneficial to the game of football and it failed to switch on. How this heavily guarded fortress was escaped will also be revealed in my upcoming autobiography.
It is understandable that this report will be met with high levels of scepticism. However, we at EatFootball ask you to look at our irrefutable pictorial evidence.
In closing, I would ask you to trust an eye-witness account and the inherent honesty of journalism. With my own eyes I saw a vast, sterile room, such as you might find in a hospital. Rows of beds containing prostrate forms lined the walls, much like in a hospital. Men and women bustled in and out, holding clipboards, and bright lights were shone in my eyes, as if I were in a hospital.
Upon securing my escape from this appalling place I felt sick to my stomach, as if suffering the effects of an almighty hangover. That there are such men in this world who would stoop to genetic experimentation for nothing more than furthering the game of football is deeply distressing. I call upon all true football fans to condemn this outrage, unless we win the world cup in 2008. Then it’s fine.
*Drunkenly stumbling home with a kebab
**Dropped me kebab on it
***Lying on my back, singing “SHE fellooover, SHE fellooover” and giggling.
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