Aye, we get it. You spent a sizeable portion of your life living in the north of England. Sometimes you bought LPs. They sounded good. And now you hear songs on commercial radio, and they sound gash. Whoopdee fecking do.
It's not hard to prove one era was better than the other if you take collate all the worst stuff from one and compare it with the best from another one is it now? It’s the same with footie.
"I remember as a lad growing up in North Manchester how much better football was in the 90s. We used to watch the games at the old Tosspot Arms on Wankington Street, you know the one, it was across the road from the Tesco's near the Rimjob Rovers ground. Me and my mates used to drop turds behind the old scoreboard and then throw them at people, or leave them in letter-boxes. Cause we were proper lads, YEAH!
Anyway, we’d sit at the old Tosspot most Saturdays, having dinner in the afternoon and rolling our Rs and saying ‘Ee arr!’ and ‘feck’ a lot. Except we said ‘feck’ so it rhymed with ‘cook’ cause that’s just how we rolled.
And we watched footie and drank pints. Yeah that’s right, PINTS. None of this vodka redbull shite that soft southern student wankers with double-barrel surnames drink in their gay student Union bars with their legs crossed like benders and three fingers on the glass with their pinkies pointing towards the sky. Pints of LAGER. Cause we were Northern lads, and we drank pints of lager and we watched footie at the old Tosspot. Except it was kind of hard to see the tele through our dense Liam Gallagheresque mop tops so we’d have to squint most of the time just to see who had the ball. It was proper fecking graft.
But seriously, footie is shit these days. There’s a lot of footie out but teens of today are encumbered with a lack of quality players in my opinion. Honestly, what have they got? Kevin Kilbane pinging crosses into row Z, what the feck is all that about? Titus Bramble, Emile Heskey and knobhead Diaby?
Subjectively now, I have downloaded old matches that I was proper into as a teen in North Manchester in the mid-Nineties. Roy Keane is there, and there was Ryan Giggs (whose dribbling is still magnificent a decade on), then was a fella called Lee Sharpe who I really liked back then, and Eric Cantona.
Older lads like Wibble and Weaste and MJS can tell you in the early Eighties, they were in the stands in flat caps and Stone Island denim, their arseholes dilating on poppers as they gently bummed each other in front of Mcgrath, Robson and Whiteside.
What have young muppets like Elvis and Boothy got to watch, Tony fecking Hibbert?
Ah, I miss watching footie at the old Tosspot. Sadly, years later I realized I was a raging cock-obsessed bender so I slung me hook and caught the next flight to Sydney where I post shite on Redcafe in between dressing up like Priscilla Queen of the Desert at every Mardi Gras. “