Bored with an England football coach who hardly ever loses a competitive game and irritated by his getting more sex with hot foreign babes than they ever will, tabloid journalists (and many of their readers) finally get what they wanted all along:
England’s new manager to be homegrown: British or Irish candidate with ‘passion’ a priority
I can see the interviews now:
“Yes, yes, José, your understanding of the latest techniques in physiological acclimatization and your multilingual communications skills are all very well, but, basically, at the end of the day, we’re looking for someone with a Northern accent who CAN SHOUT A LOT and barely speak English without resorting to footie clichés. And it would also help us a great deal if you can sign the “one once-glamorous blonde wife and no girlfriends” clause in our contract with a clear conscience.”
I hope England win the World Cup. PooterGeek will be dishing out the humble pie again with serious “passion”.
Do you feel any better about your Quattro Stagioni tasting like shit if the menu claims the people making it are “passionate about pizzas”? No. It’s not about passion; it’s about winning. Passion is what Eddie “the Eagle” Edwards had; winning is what Steve “let’s crush some dreams” Redgrave did.