Hello people - I thought I would check in as this year's winner and while you are all chuntering on I really did feel it was about time that the spotlight was turned fully on me. Yes, it's true. While you lot are floundering and probably rubbing yourselves up - there is no shame it now, I can just envisage it which is cool but I just don't want that junk thrown in my face - I think you will find that my own personal security and sheer relevance to you all has been grossly underrated. Yes, I I am the new Northumberlad Cuthbert.
To be frank, I now identify extremely closely with the wonderfully individual Jack Grealish. I too would kill Gareth Southgate if he continued to try anything up my arse like he is up Jack's. I'm kind of anti that with everybody but, sorry, I just won't have it at all with jackbooted power parading in carpet slippers and a ridiculous beard. That is all I have to say for now. I think I will just let my stunning wonkery just wonk the wonk.This is my year. And to be fair my big picture is huger than the big picture but then everyone's is.
Every one of my family has died either from coronavirus or being told to sniiff a concoction of Dena Asha Smith and Tyson Fury's armpits. Decent people would see I have had a very tough time. But I sense that I am going to beat everyone on this one into a pulp. And frankly, you can't beat a bit of a competitive spirit can you. In my talks when managing the female boxers in their changing rooms, they sort of said to me you don't need to tell us that. Then I told them to get a shower as any caring fatherly manager type would. I left them to do their own soaping and just programmed my thing in a woman' voice to say well done girls but you ain't the bromance the greek God Grealish. Then I cuddled my teddy bear, Ted - he is actually a lovely son though he like me is autistic, love him, and my wife Alexa is great but maybe cool. She doesn't do arms.
Anyhow no. Timotei if you want to. My knob is telling me I am very keen on turning, not that it turned anywhere so I suppose I just have to accept it was with you all along Nicola or Tabatha or Nigella or Cicciolina, however big your assets are, and you want me to mend the fences and fix the light bulbs while you just sit on your arse. That's as Jehovah's Witnesses in DMs do and do tell me - I don't know the nuances of VAR. Also, you won't let me spunk out nightly. Talk about being placed in a sadistic chastity belt. Don't you think it is about time you got a bit more real .Like re-engaging with knitting as I have, Why not you?
To the reasonable people out there who really understand football as I do, you will know its all their bloody fault. Personally, I'm for Morecambe and Wise and a full English breakfast myself and wearing my leather jacket not only when going to the fag shop in the depth of night but openly, then they all go "ooh, ooh but you haven't got a motorcycle and it's not you". Don't get me wrong. Vagina, big yes. Absolutely. Almost a munch. At least it ain't BO and smegma. A fetish veganism on rye bread. You do it if you want to. Just don't chuck my identity into an un Grealish like gusset because one big nose abusing talent is more than enough thanks. I wouldn't mind if he wasn't born in Crawley but sadly he was. His anti Jack shows, So does his cock.