Now I don’t mean to be mean, but what is it with all this mourning for George Best? If you hadn’t heard (which I find an utterly implausible possibility for any U.K. resident) George Best died last week. Well boo hoo.

Look, please don’t misunderstand me, it’s sad for his family and friends and everything, but why on earth am I supposed to care? There’s been wall-to-wall coverage of this pathetic old wife-beating boozer’s demise on the news, even a live broadcast of his funeral on the BBC, and I just find it completely ludicrous if not offensive. He was a football player for gods sake. He wasn’t a diplomat, a charity worker, a teacher, or even a good role model. He was a once-good kicker of balls who pissed his life up against the wall and got through more livers than I’ve had hot-dinners.

Excuse the rhyming, I always get that way when I’m angry. Maybe next they’ll install a webcam in is coffin so we can all watch the final stages of his decomposition that began way back when in the 80’s. But I guess with all that alcohol in his system he may conceivably never rot. Pickled for all eternity, like Lenin, only hairier.

Posted in Ramblings