In our first comedy special, Furious John looks at the controversy surrounding Wayne Rooney and questions why people blame him for everything. Especially, when it doesn’t go England’s way.
“Mario Balotelli stamps on Scott Parker’s head.” The first thing I thought when I heard this was what the fallout would have been if Rooney had been the stamper. Actually that’s not true, the first thing I thought was “when did the Post Office release commemorative Balotelli stamps, and what were they to celebrate cunt of the month?”. For the whole of Monday I followed the discussion through Talksport & Twitter and the reaction astounded me, I expected the majority of callers to be outraged with such a show of violence and call for an extensive ban but this wasn’t the case at all. With the exception of Spurs fans calling for him to be disembowelled and carried through Golders green on the back of a donkey (or Joe Jordan) the general theme was “he’s not that bad, he is just a bit impetuous. Poor little scamp”. Amazingly they were talking about the same Balotelli who has thrown darts at youth players from a hotel window, couldn’t manage to put on a training bib and has had mixed fortunes behind the wheel of a car. Mixed fortunes meaning he drives with the skill of a carrier bag. The tabloid media stopped short of claiming that Mario was trying to part Parkers hair in an act of follicle kindness. Now imagine that Wayne Rooney had stamped on Scott Parkers head…
The schedule on Sky Sports would have been cleared and a TWAT (tactical Wayne aggression team) would have been scrambled instantly. Jim White would have been relieved of transfer tales to head the programme as they reviewed every single past misdemeanor right from childhood starting with anyone Rooney had been told not to suck his thumb (flouting authority) right up to his murderous assault on Scott Parkers magnificently thatched head. Frantic phone calls would be taking place between David Cameron, Ban Ki-moon, Dr Rowan Williams and Garth Crooks. Sepp and Fanny Blatter would be readying themselves for an EGM of the FIFA council and Roy Keane would be preparing himself for a few of his fully balanced not embittered at all quotes. The next day Sepp, Platini and Bernstein would appear on the steps of the Vatican and announce not only a life ban but also that Rooney had been sentenced to swim the channel of sea between Dyer and Geyser Islands while towing a large sheep carcass behind him. Platini would venture “ee as rooined the game. I ope eees mother gets herpes and his father makes love to a goose” before the three of them walked away arm in arm heads bowed. Finally, Obama would declare war on Manchester with the aim of ridding the world of the infidel Rooney.
A couple of weeks prior to Balotelligate there had been another incident that highlighted the anti-Rooney feeling. Only a few minutes into the FA Cup 3rd round derby match Vincent Kompany launched into a two footed tackle on United’s smooth criminal and was subsequently sent off. It was the first time that FIFA had been able to call on video evidence from the Mir space station, the cosmonauts able to confirm the players identity by the size of his (visible with the naked eye from space) head. Cue all the “pundits” claiming the referee had ruined the game and “spoilt the spectacle”. Then during the 74th replay of the incident Jamie Redknapp managed to stop touching himself for long enough to notice Rooney gesturing to the referee that it had been a 2 footed tackle, suddenly and instantly the situation became reframed. “Cor blimey, up the apples and pears, that berkshire hunt went and got Vince sent ahhhhf” as the mildly retarded TV personality verbalised his toddler, therefore, the internet melted. Twitter, Facebook and cheaprussianwives.com all buckled under the weight of surging traffic and the talking point was now Rooney and his outrageous influencing of the referee.
The next morning I was driving down to the Unicorn farm listening to Talksport and in particular the incredible Alan Brazil. For those of you lucky enough to have no knowledge of this massive weapon allow me to stain you with a description; Brazil was a part time professional footballer back in the 70s and 80s. He spent a season at Old Trafford keeping the injury table warm when he wasnt out making George Best look like a shandy drinker. He somehow got a job presenting a breakfast show on Talksport despite the fact he is always at least half cut when the show starts at 6am. He picked up the Kompany sending off and his line was that the tackle “wissnae tha bad” and that had Rooney not “got to” the ref, Kompany would still have been on the pitch. Ignoring the rule that outlawed 2 footed tackling, Brazil set about proving his theory by getting all his old “Muckers” on the phone, basically a whos who of tough tackling booze bandits who would drink a gallon of listerine as soon as they would look at you. They all said that in their day the tackle would have got a thumbs up and they would have shared a pack of Benson and Hedges at half time. Cue a whole host of calls condoning Kompanys challenge and berating Rooney for daring to get involved. All “fans” that would be hammering the recalcitrant Rooney now, yet proclaiming their love for the passionate warrior come the European championships.
The tabloid media are the worst for their “he is a criminal” and “he is our saviour” Rooney-ness, closely followed by the Ingurland fans many of whom love to brand him “Shrek” or “Granny shagger” throughout the season until he pulls on an England shirt and they would gladly give him a topless hand shandy for a goal against Germany. This season a new factor has eneterd the fray, the previosuly anti-Rooney FA. Last season as April began United were attempting to close out a record breaking, scouse busting, de-perching 19th Premier league and yet they found themselves 2-0 down at West Ham. Rooney’s season had not exactly gone to plan because he spent the summer being rimmed by a couple of hookers before playing like a young Emile Heskey in South Africa. He then handed in a transfer request, became so fat that United sent him to America so he looked thin and generally played like a man with the touch and close control of a tumble dryer. However, when United really needed him he delivered, scoring a hat trick to haul them into the lead. As He celebrated a goal an over zealous cameraman got a bit too close Rooney shouted “What, Fuckin what?” incredibly earning himself an FA charge. Outraged fathers across the land complained, Rooney had just taught their children to swear. Of course this was the first time they had been exposed to such language and so the FA had to take action, banning the potty mouth for 2 games at the most crucial point of the season. Fast forward a few months and as England qualify or the European Championships 2012 Isle of Man and Anglesey, Rooney gets a red card for kicking out at someone. Over at the FA the reverend Cuthbert Jones-Flynn-Petherall knocks back another glass of tanqueray and remarks to Jefferey Carter-booth “I see that ghastly potato head has been sent orrrfff again, the brute.” Just to wipe the smile off the gin soaked FA the mavericks over at UEFA ban Rooney for three games, those games being the group stages at the Championships and without Rooney probably the only games England play from their base camp of Holyhead. So what do the FA do? Fearful of losing sponsors and a plummet down the rankings that would stop the crowd pulling firendlies at their white elephant in coming months they send a delegation to UEFA headquarters to plead forgiveness and try and get the ban reduced. They succeeded and quite possibly congratukated themselves with a bottle of grey goose and four young Swiss men at having saved their revneu streams for another couple of years.
So the tabloid media, the Ingurland fans and the FA all hate Rooney when it suits them, yet treat him as a God when they are relying on him for something. I just hope all the while Bebe is preparing himself for when his time comes.