Michael Owen has always been a cringe monster

Cascarino said:
I would have gone with 5 too, but I googled contractions and apparently they all count as 2 except for "can't".
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This is the sort of detail Michael Owen would revel in were he intelligent, in addition to to being on the autism spectrum.
 
mu4c_20le said:
His daughter can get it though
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mu4c_20le turns up at the front door of his girlfriend's house, ready to take her out for a Nando's dinner and a quick trip past memory lane to the small car park round the back where the clothing bank sits. As he waits he fondly recalls the last time they went there for dinner date night, and how they capped the night off with a hefty nosh and tossed salad.

The double oak doors with feathered white and gold etchings slowly swing open with an audible uhhhhhhh. Almost Human like in nature.

Uhhhhhhh. Again. It is indeed human like in nature. It's Michael pretending to be a door. His head pops around from the other side, smiling from ear to ear.

"Gotcha!" He begins to cackle loudly. He extends his arm out to greet you. "Don't worry, kiddo, plenty of people fall for my pranks! Michael Owen. Ballon d'Or winner. Played for England. Scored lots of great goals. Of course you've heard of me."

mu4c_20le does his best to smile before he shakes Michael's hand. He knew this day would eventually come. "So is your daugh-"

"You ever play football, kiddo?" Michael asks. "I bet you thought you were preeeetty great as well. Who's better, do you think? Me or you?! Eh? Obviously it's me but who do you think is better?!" Mr Owen's smile stretches further than mu4c_20le thought was humanly possible. There's also something about Michael's eyes. Something distant, like he's looking past you but - no, it's something else. It's almost like he himself is far away. As if he's pushed further into his shell just to avoid his real life. Inside his mind; still drifting further away. Like a child, running from disappointment. He knows that there's nothing much for him here except-"HOW MANY SIT UPS CAN YOU DO?!" Michael suddenly bellows out with an excited squeal.

mu4c_20le grits his teeth and keeps reminding himself that she's got a cracking arse.
 
Mr Pigeon said:
mu4c_20le turns up at the front door of his girlfriend's house, ready to take her out for a Nando's dinner and a quick trip past memory lane to the small car park round the back where the clothing bank sits. As he waits he fondly recalls the last time they went there for dinner date night, and how they capped the night off with a hefty nosh and tossed salad.

The double oak doors with feathered white and gold etchings slowly swing open with an audible uhhhhhhh. Almost Human like in nature.

Uhhhhhhh. Again. It is indeed human like in nature. It's Michael pretending to be a door. His head pops around from the other side, smiling from ear to ear.

"Gotcha!" He begins to cackle loudly. He extends his arm out to greet you. "Don't worry, kiddo, plenty of people fall for my pranks! Michael Owen. Ballon d'Or winner. Played for England. Scored lots of great goals. Of course you've heard of me."

mu4c_20le does his best to smile before he shakes Michael's hand. He knew this day would eventually come. "So is your daugh-"

"You ever play football, kiddo?" Michael asks. "I bet you thought you were preeeetty great as well. Who's better, do you think? Me or you?! Eh? Obviously it's me but who do you think is better?!" Mr Owen's smile stretches further than mu4c_20le thought was humanly possible. There's also something about Michael's eyes. Something distant, like he's looking past you but - no, it's something else. It's almost like he himself is far away. As if he's pushed further into his shell just to avoid his real life. Inside his mind; still drifting further away. Like a child, running from disappointment. He knows that there's nothing much for him here except-"HOW MANY SIT UPS CAN YOU DO?!" Michael suddenly bellows out with an excited squeal.

mu4c_20le grits his teeth and keeps reminding himself that she's got a cracking arse.
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:lol: being drunk, I enjoyed this
 
Mr Pigeon said:
mu4c_20le turns up at the front door of his girlfriend's house, ready to take her out for a Nando's dinner and a quick trip past memory lane to the small car park round the back where the clothing bank sits. As he waits he fondly recalls the last time they went there for dinner date night, and how they capped the night off with a hefty nosh and tossed salad.

The double oak doors with feathered white and gold etchings slowly swing open with an audible uhhhhhhh. Almost Human like in nature.

Uhhhhhhh. Again. It is indeed human like in nature. It's Michael pretending to be a door. His head pops around from the other side, smiling from ear to ear.

"Gotcha!" He begins to cackle loudly. He extends his arm out to greet you. "Don't worry, kiddo, plenty of people fall for my pranks! Michael Owen. Ballon d'Or winner. Played for England. Scored lots of great goals. Of course you've heard of me."

mu4c_20le does his best to smile before he shakes Michael's hand. He knew this day would eventually come. "So is your daugh-"

"You ever play football, kiddo?" Michael asks. "I bet you thought you were preeeetty great as well. Who's better, do you think? Me or you?! Eh? Obviously it's me but who do you think is better?!" Mr Owen's smile stretches further than mu4c_20le thought was humanly possible. There's also something about Michael's eyes. Something distant, like he's looking past you but - no, it's something else. It's almost like he himself is far away. As if he's pushed further into his shell just to avoid his real life. Inside his mind; still drifting further away. Like a child, running from disappointment. He knows that there's nothing much for him here except-"HOW MANY SIT UPS CAN YOU DO?!" Michael suddenly bellows out with an excited squeal.

mu4c_20le grits his teeth and keeps reminding himself that she's got a cracking arse.
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I've been on the Caf 10 years, stopped following for a while until this year, then turn up to read some of your posts recently which made me burst out laughing. Kudos sir glad I came back to this place
 
Mr Pigeon said:
mu4c_20le turns up at the front door of his girlfriend's house, ready to take her out for a Nando's dinner and a quick trip past memory lane to the small car park round the back where the clothing bank sits. As he waits he fondly recalls the last time they went there for dinner date night, and how they capped the night off with a hefty nosh and tossed salad.

The double oak doors with feathered white and gold etchings slowly swing open with an audible uhhhhhhh. Almost Human like in nature.

Uhhhhhhh. Again. It is indeed human like in nature. It's Michael pretending to be a door. His head pops around from the other side, smiling from ear to ear.

"Gotcha!" He begins to cackle loudly. He extends his arm out to greet you. "Don't worry, kiddo, plenty of people fall for my pranks! Michael Owen. Ballon d'Or winner. Played for England. Scored lots of great goals. Of course you've heard of me."

mu4c_20le does his best to smile before he shakes Michael's hand. He knew this day would eventually come. "So is your daugh-"

"You ever play football, kiddo?" Michael asks. "I bet you thought you were preeeetty great as well. Who's better, do you think? Me or you?! Eh? Obviously it's me but who do you think is better?!" Mr Owen's smile stretches further than mu4c_20le thought was humanly possible. There's also something about Michael's eyes. Something distant, like he's looking past you but - no, it's something else. It's almost like he himself is far away. As if he's pushed further into his shell just to avoid his real life. Inside his mind; still drifting further away. Like a child, running from disappointment. He knows that there's nothing much for him here except-"HOW MANY SIT UPS CAN YOU DO?!" Michael suddenly bellows out with an excited squeal.

mu4c_20le grits his teeth and keeps reminding himself that she's got a cracking arse.
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Red Shorts said:
I've been on the Caf 10 years, stopped following for a while until this year, then turn up to read some of your posts recently which made me burst out laughing. Kudos sir glad I came back to this place
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:)
 
Imagine dating his daughter and everytime you see him he will tell you his CV. From the moment he graduated from school till becoming the king of crypto casino.
 
Didn’t he once divulge to a fellow commentator that he was more interested horse racing?
The man who manages to make the testcard fascinating, I invariably cringe when he’s on, safely in the knowledge he’ll be unashamedly picking up some astronomical fee for his expert analysis.
 
Mr Pigeon said:
mu4c_20le turns up at the front door of his girlfriend's house, ready to take her out for a Nando's dinner and a quick trip past memory lane to the small car park round the back where the clothing bank sits. As he waits he fondly recalls the last time they went there for dinner date night, and how they capped the night off with a hefty nosh and tossed salad.

The double oak doors with feathered white and gold etchings slowly swing open with an audible uhhhhhhh. Almost Human like in nature.

Uhhhhhhh. Again. It is indeed human like in nature. It's Michael pretending to be a door. His head pops around from the other side, smiling from ear to ear.

"Gotcha!" He begins to cackle loudly. He extends his arm out to greet you. "Don't worry, kiddo, plenty of people fall for my pranks! Michael Owen. Ballon d'Or winner. Played for England. Scored lots of great goals. Of course you've heard of me."

mu4c_20le does his best to smile before he shakes Michael's hand. He knew this day would eventually come. "So is your daugh-"

"You ever play football, kiddo?" Michael asks. "I bet you thought you were preeeetty great as well. Who's better, do you think? Me or you?! Eh? Obviously it's me but who do you think is better?!" Mr Owen's smile stretches further than mu4c_20le thought was humanly possible. There's also something about Michael's eyes. Something distant, like he's looking past you but - no, it's something else. It's almost like he himself is far away. As if he's pushed further into his shell just to avoid his real life. Inside his mind; still drifting further away. Like a child, running from disappointment. He knows that there's nothing much for him here except-"HOW MANY SIT UPS CAN YOU DO?!" Michael suddenly bellows out with an excited squeal.

mu4c_20le grits his teeth and keeps reminding himself that she's got a cracking arse.
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Immense :lol:
 
Surprised that didn't make it onto the propaganda pamphlet.

*can easily score volleys against a 13 year old from 6 yards with no defenders 90% of the time.
 
horsechoker said:
"I just love volleying"
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"You dont have to swing your foot ridiculously hard"
*Proceeds to smash the ball multiple times into a traumatized kid who doesn't want to be a Goal Keeper anymore, accountant sounds much safer*
 
“You’ve got no chance there”

says, the future ballon d Or winner, after blasting it in from 6 yards against a 12 year old..
 
Kicks it as hard as he can at the young kid for one of them what an absolute twat
 
Mike Smalling said:
Who thought it was a good idea to put him that close to goal :lol: ? At least put him at the penalty spot or a bit further out.
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Mike Smalling said:
Who thought it was a good idea to put him that close to goal :lol: ? At least put him at the penalty spot or a bit further out.
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He’s literally hitting them from the six. Unreal. If it’s just a tutorial on volleying get the kid out of nets for his safety, FFS.
 
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