Vorderwoman

Steven Gerrard makes me sick. How is it that a young man, paid by the truckload, thinks he can let down his country and then HAVE SEX? I for one think Steven Gerrard is an absolute disgrace, and he should be showing the country exactly how sorry he is by cutting himself with knives until it really hurts. Self harm is the only way for England’s footballers to repent for their appalling performances. Wayne Rooney should be banging his head against a brick wall, and Ashley Cole should be mutilating his foot until he can no longer walk on it.

As a role model for the country’s youth, Steven Gerrard should be living a near monastic life. How dare he go out and have sex with women? After his performances in South Africa, the very least Steven Gerrard could have done is give up his first-class ticket on the plane and hitch-hiked it back all the way through Africa, up through Spain, and then worked his way back on foot, taking jobs as he went picking fruit and vegetables or helping out communities build sheds and stuff.

To make it harder for Gerrard to get back, he should have one leg tied to John Terry’s right leg. And John Terry should be given anaesthetic so that Gerrard finds it even harder to lug the weight of a sex maniac up the continent of Africa. He should also be made to wear a t-shirt that says “cannibals come and eat me” so that the natives think he’s food. That would teach him.

On his return to England, after swimming the Channel, he should have carried a cross on his back all the way to Liverpool, where crowds would have greeted him with ritual abuse and rotten vegetables. Instead, what is he doing? He goes off in his five-star aeroplane, stays in a ten-star hotel with a SWIMMING POOL and JACUZZI, and starts having sex with women – a pleasure that should be well and truly off the menu for our under-performing footballers.

In fact, and I’m calling on all of womanhood here, we should be the ones who are proactively denying Steven Gerrard any female flesh. It’s well known that he’ll try to impregnate anything with two legs and long hair, so ladies – let’s get together and deny this libidinous lackey his lady loving until he starts winning trophies for England. And if he does come calling – and in fact, if any member of the England squad come calling – then give them a sharp knife, tell them to self-harm, and shut the door in their faces.

Disclaimer: Of course, this is not really Carol Vorderman writing for the Daily Shame. We’d never let the mathematics harpie anywhere near our editorial offices.

“I can’t believe he’s still in the job,” said Orthopaedic fan Barry Twomerdes. “It’s been rubbish since he took charge. How can he take these quality players and make one rubbish side out of them? He sticks to 4-4-2 but everyone knows that Darren Copshaft needs to play alone up front with someone playing in the hole behind. When will Acapella understand?”

Copshaft, a part-time painter from nearby village Borlz-by-Gucci, is the highest-paid player on the Orthopaedic side, having been signed from rivals Shytte Remedial for two bitter shandies last season. With a return of eight goals last year, he became the club’s top scorer, but is at a loss as to why Orthopaedic’s slide continues:

“The lads are all trying their best,” he told reporters yesterday. “But the loss to Arschloch hurts a lot. I had to take half a day off work to play this game, so I’ve taken a financial hit as well. That’s how much it means to all of us. You should blame us, not the manager.”

Orthopaedic now go into next month’s Inter-Shytte tournament as underdogs, having not won the title since 1966, the famous “in off the dog” year when feted cocker spaniel “Lucky” ran onto the pitch and deflected a wayward shot into opponents Shytte & Borlz Albion’s net. Forty-four years of hurt later, and some fans refuse to believe that Orthopaedic’s best days are behind them:

“I still believe,” said devoted Orthopaedic fanatic, Kevin Oldhat. “I still reckon we can win it. Every year, I get out my 1966 rattle and wave it around my head like mad. Barry doesn’t like it, but it means something to me. All those years of hurt, and now we’ve got stuck with this overpaid Acapella bloke. I don’t care about all his medals with FC Stronzo in Italy – what I care about is Orthopaedic, and the right here – right now. If he can’t get the best out of these players, well he’s got to go.”

“Some of these players are on two-figure salaries, and it’s probably going to bankrupt the club unless we start winning trophies. They need to show some pride when they put on the Shytte shirt.”

Orthopaedic season ticket holder Maureen Farniente is backing Acapella, saying “If he can’t do it – no one can. They’ve had their chances, we all know they’re the most talented Orthopaedic team since the 60s, and frankly, we’ve got the best manager we’ve had since Bozza, the landlord at the Wyvern, back in the 70s. I just don’t think they care as much as we do. They’d much rather be in their cushy jobs earning four-figure salaries as painters, pizza delivery drivers and benefits scroungers, not playing for the Orthopaedic.”

An estimated 120% of the nation gathered round televisions and radio sets last night to hear Kim Jong Il narrate the “great victory” over Brazil from his self-penned book “Our 4-0 victory over Brazil”, which is set to become a bestseller in the communist nation. At approximately 11pm local time, workers downed tools, and by chapter 3, they were celebrating their first World Cup finals goal since 1966.

“The right winger prepares to cross,” read Kim Jong-Il, “dummies, and beats the Brazilian defender, erm… Dave… and plays the ball in.” A nation held its breath, as the TV showed a mock-up of the “great victory” using a combination of actors, cartoon and pipe-wiring.

“Here’s Kim Jong-Il – he’s beaten one – he’s beaten two – he’s beaten three – look at how he beautifully represents the North Korean worker – his artistry, his beauty, his looks, his skill… look how he completely mystifies the foolhardy westerners… they watch in awe as he shoots – he scores!!!” A cartoon figure of Kim Jong-Il wheeled away celebrating North Korea’s first goal, while the Brazilians looked on in a combination of shock and respect. Indeed, many of the Brazilians applauded, and the mainly North Korean-supporting crowd went into raptures.

Ten minutes later, a dazzling run by Jong-Il took him past all eleven Brazilian players – three times – before he rounded off the move with an overhead kick into the top corner – a shot so hard that it broke the back of the net with a noise that was heard half-way around the world. At half time, patriotic songs were sung by everyone in the stadium, including the Brazilian fans who had all converted to communism after Kim Jong Il’s first goal.

Kim Jong-Il went on to score all four goals in his country’s “great victory”, and becomes the tournament’s leading, in fact, only goalscorer. As a sign of their humiliation, all of the Brazilians immediately retired from football, and handed their previous World Cup medals to the North Koreans who were “more deserving”. A chastened Robinho said “What happened here tonight is a lesson for the world. We must not try to match ourselves against North Korea, because we are too feeble. We are too weak. We are not good enough. The great leader Kim Jong-Il was right. We are stupid.”

“Dear nation,” proclaimed Jong-Il as the final whistle blew, closing his book and seemingly improvising for the first time. “the Brazilians have been annihilated by the people’s football team of North Korea, and myself. However, trouble is on the horizon. We cannot see off the Portuguese without nuclear weapons, which is why you must all return to work, producing warheads for our Great War!”

Next week, Kim Jong-Il will read “How we crushed the stupid Portuguese”, and “Our glorious mauling of the Ivory Coast”.

The expensive process, engineered by scientists from Switzerland, will take approximately 6 full hours, with Ledley King’s body parts being maintained in ice and cotton wool, further ice, and further cotton wool. Fabio Capello told reporters yesterday that “it is only way we can guarantee he make it through tournament. We have employed top security guards for his feet, his head and his legs. We have employed average security guards for his arms, and I will personally look after his ribcage and his groin. This way, we rebuild Ledley for every game and check with top engineers that he is fully working.”

England have had to seek special dispensation from FIFA for the rather extreme proposal, and each rebuild of King will be overseen by FIFA officials who are keen to observe that England rebuild Ledley King from Ledley King parts only. Some have voiced fears that the England team will seek an advantage by building in additional body parts. A FIFA spokesman said “there is nothing in the rules that says England can’t do this.”

He continued: “However, we have to make sure that England don’t try to replace Ledley King’s knee with, say, that of Rio Ferdinand, who we know will not be needing his knee during the tournament. There is also the worry that the body parts will somehow be individually embellished during the tournament, so we must keep a close eye on each one.”

King is said to be “relaxed” about the whole process, despite worries within the England camp that thieves could attempt to steal a vital body part before a game. Criminal groups are believed to be targeting King’s groin, which will be kept under minimum security in Fabio Capello’s hotel room. They believe that King’s groin could be worth “a few quid”, but scientists have claimed that King can play “without the groin” if required. Equally, the England camp has been bombarded with offers of body parts to “pimp” King up in advance of England’s opener against the USA.

“This is awful news,” said Sky’s Head of HD Sales, Victor Sucebite, pictured above. “The news that millions of families around the UK will be left in HD poverty is worse than any news about children being beaten up or houses being burnt down. It is every family’s right to have High Definition televisions in their home ahead of the World Cup – in exchange for a mere £200 per month plus a HD received and a high-definition ready TV, which is nothing, really, when you think about it. If they don’t have it, imagine the pain and the torment that they will go through during the World Cup.”

“They won’t be able to see Wayne Rooney’s nasal hair”, he mused. “They won’t be able to see the outline of Kaka’s testes, or the laces on Thierry Henry’s boots. They won’t be able to see the full majesty of the South Korean national team’s floppy hair, each and every strand a magnificent zeitgeist, a standing monument to hairdressing and football. How can they go to work the next day and talk about the game on an equal footing? Can you imagine how these viewers must feel, only watching on normal flatscreen televisions? I’m sickened to think that our government is leaving behind all of these people in HD Hardship.”

HD fanatic Eddie Gullible has had HD TV since it came out, and said: “I was one of the first to get a HD telly, and I can’t believe I’ve lived all my life without one. In fact, when I look back at my non-HD years, I feel sick about myself. I feel like I’ve wasted all of those years with low-quality, shit TV. Where would I be if I couldn’t watch the warbling throat mechanisms of X-Factor entrants? Where would I be if I couldn’t see every gobule of spit emitted from a footballer’s mouth? I’d be lost, quite frankly.”

“When I heard that most of the country would be without HD TV for the World Cup, I thought – well, I have to do something.”

Gullible founded “The HD Foundation”, a charity that aims to bring High Definition to the masses. The charity aims to increase knowledge of High Definition television among “poor people” and “the ignorant middle classes”, and will mostly involve a network of pub bores banging on about how HD is the future and that everyone should part with £350 per month for the privilege of high definition.

“It’s the future. Well, that and 3D television, but I haven’t got that yet.”

“It’s a great deal for the club,” beamed Ashley. “Yes, there will be a bedding-in period, where fans will have to get used to being referred to as M&Ms instead of Newcastle fans, but over time, they’ll come to appreciate being referred to as chocolate-covered peanuts, and it represents one of the greatest marketing opportunities we’ve ever had. Imagine – you can say that you’re ‘nuts’ about Newcastle United, and promote a great brand at the same time!”

Ashley, who stands to make a few more pounds out of the deal, came in for criticism last month when he announced that he himself would become known as Pepperoni, changing his name by deed poll, and dressing in a green, plastic wrapper every time he appears in public. The re-branding of Mike Ashley will come into effect at the start of next season, but Newcastle’s fans are fuming about their own name change.

“I wanted to be known as Snickers,” fumed Barry O’atcake from Gateshead. “That bastard Mike Ashley, sorry, Mr Pepperoni, just goes around renaming shit as if it’s going out of fashion, and what for? A few measly pence. Time was when you could go to St. James’s Park, have a pie and a pint and watch the game. Now you go to the Vodafone Megadome @ SportsDirect, sit on a Virgin seat, eat a Ginsters, drink a Foster’s, and watch the match sponsored by Arriva.”

Newcastle Utd fan Ruby Sunday said that she’s looking forward to being known as an M&M, saying “actually, I love ‘em. They’re crunchy, they’re sweet, and they come in all different colours. What’s not to like?”

M&M CEO Trevor Phukwytte told gathered reporters that the re-branding of Newcastle’s fans is a ‘marvellous opportunity’ for brand synergy, saying “the most marketable thing Newcastle United have is their fans – and now they’re known as M&M’s, they can go forward and create extra wealth for us.”

“After this, though, there’s not much left to re-name, apart from the fans’ families, maybe?”

Shytte centre-forward Darren ‘Tubby’ Tumor spent the entire 90 minutes sat in the centre-circle, refusing to play with midfielder Kevin Queerfolk, who he accused of stealing his pint the previous night at the local pub. He explained to reporters afterwards: “Kevin already had a pint, which, I might add – someone had already bought him. He just waited until I went to the toilet to nick mine. That’s low. Very low. I don’t see how we can play in the same team any more.”

Left-back Barry Basildon yesterday withdrew himself from any possible selection by England manager Fabio Capello, stating that “there’s no way that I’d play alongside Alan Gangrene any more – if he’s selected for England, that is. That bastard still owes me a fiver from last week. Will I ever get it back? I doubt that very much. So Mr Capello – please accept my retirement from potentially playing international football.”

Gangrene, Shytte’s right-wing dynamo, was blanked by the whole side as the rift between the two players threatened to blow the team apart. Absolutely nobody shook his hand before the game, and Gangrene afterwards was unrepentant: “I told him he’d get his fiver once we’d got our match fee, but no, he had to have it before the game. I reckon I’ll ask for a transfer to another pub team.”

The only highlight of the game came after thirty minutes when one of the players accidentally forgot about his feud with everyone else and ran half the length of the pitch before pulling up and apologising – an apology that was roundly ignored. Both Shytte fans applauded heartily, however, saying that the mazy dribble around the static Acne defence was “worth the entrance money alone”.

Referee Johnny “Red Card” Walton claimed afterwards that it was the toughest match he has ever refereed, saying “I’ve always got one or two red cards to hand out – but this match was awful – nothing happened? I spent half my time trying to convince them to start moving or at least kick the ball, but they wouldn’t. In fact, the Acne centre-half wouldn’t talk to me at all because I’m sleeping with his mother.”

“I couldn’t believe it”, beamed unemployed father of eight Danny O’Rapecake. “Basically, we were playing for matchsticks to start with – just for fun – and then it all started getting serious. Someone put in a couple of quid and this fella who we’d only just met that night said that he’d go all in but couldn’t match the minimum stake. Well, we told him that someone could sub him but he said ‘forget that’ – threw his car keys on the table and a note claiming that he was the owner of Portsmouth FC. Well, I wasn’t ready for that.”

The game of cards then descended into farce, with others at the table tutting and shaking their heads. One player even burst into tears at the sheer thought of all the money he could stand to lose and ran out of the pub sobbing. Several folded and went to the bar, but O’Rapecake was holding three aces and claims that he had “never felt better about a hand” in his life.

“So I went all in too, and this fella – he had a pair of 5’s. I couldn’t believe it. So now I own Portsmouth FC and to be honest with you, I don’t really know what to do with it.”

According to local publican Ivan Yokelbelly-Hughes, the “slightly shifty looking guy” didn’t seem to want to win. “He came in here asking if there was a cards game on, and he was throwing cards away all night. The minute I knew he was the owner of Portsmouth FC, I thought ‘here we go’ – this is the third time this week someone’s come in trying to flog the club. I’m sick to the back teeth of it, frankly. We had that fat fella from Newcastle United the other month, I had to bar him.”

The players are thought to be “relaxed” about their latest owner, saying that they no longer believed anyone would own the club for more than a couple of games before throwing it away, anyhow. Keeper David James said “the guy’s on benefits, there’s no way he’s going to be able to pay us, but I tell you what – it’s still more likely than when that sheikh fella was in charge.”

O’Rapecake takes charge ahead of next weekend’s game against bitter rivals Southampton, but says that he has been preparing by playing as Portsmouth on Fifa 2005 on his PC. “I’m getting well into it,” he admitted. “I realise there’s a lot to do from a financial viewpoint, but I’m in it for the long haul. I’m used to having debts so I imagine I’ll take to it like a duck to water.”

“It was strange that we all seemed to realise at the same time”, said Rovers centre-forward Bert Hoofe. “I received a cross from the right and instead of knocking it into the goal, I just caught the ball and suggested we give up. The handful of fans in the ground were all reading magazines and stuff, so we all left the pitch.”

The players from both sides agreed that there “really wasn’t much point” in playing the game, and that while the game had some importance in deciding league positions, it was chilly out, and the pub had special offers on pies.

“I didn’t really feel much like playing anyway”, said Snorkels captain Marc von Hoverkraft. “I mean, it’s not like anyone cares, and when we saw the away fans doing a crossword together, we all thought – what the hey, let’s get indoors.”

This is not the first time that Shytte Rovers have given up on a game before the 90 minutes. Last season, they struck a deal with the referee and the opposing manager to play “next goal wins” so that they could get back to the dressing rooms to watch “My Fair Lady” which was about to start on BBC2. Rovers goalkeeper Ryan “Heavy Lad” Foulkes let the ball slip through his fingers to allow victory for King’s Park Tumors, despite them being 3-1 down at the time.

And famously, five years ago, the team refused to come out of the dressing room because they were feeling “precocious” that day.

Fans’ forums were buzzing yesterday with Rovers fans venting their feelings about the difficulty of the crossword in the matchday programme and the “weak tea” that was being served by the hot dog van. However, nobody appeared to notice that the game had ended prematurely. One fan said “come on the Shytte, great result yesterday”, while another said “I thought the second half was brilliant.”

“We wouldn’t have selected him if we didn’t think he were the right man for the job. The added bonus that he is a war hero and general all-round legend, plus a great mate of Barack Obama, was just that – an added bonus. The fans have to realise that Owen Coyle is gone, and he’s never coming back. In his place, we’ve got someone who’s just about the most brilliant man who ever did live.”

The controversial dossier was released to fans last night, and had many at Turf Moor simply shaking their heads. “First we lose Owen Coyle, and then they try to hoodwink us by telling us that Brian Laws fought in the Second World War?” asked one fan, incredulously. “It’s preposterous. Never mind that, but they’re also claiming that he won Eurovision in 1969. Even I know that’s not true.”

Burnley officials were equally red-faced last night after it was revealed that they had photoshopped photographs of Brian Laws on the moon next to Neil Armstrong. “It wasn’t even a good attempt”, said one leading Photoshop expert. “And the one where he’s shaking hands with Ghandi is even worse. It’s as if they’re not even making an effort.”

Brian Laws was unavailable for comment last night, but a spokesman for the new Burnley manager told reporters that he could neither confirm nor deny whether he had gone twelve rounds with Mohammed Ali. However, he did confirm that he had taken Burnley from the third division to the Champions League in just six seasons while playing Championship Manager 2005 on his PC.