BEST FOOTBALL RANT EVER!

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Dear Players of Grimsby Town FC,
I am writing with regard to my absolute astonishment and disbelief as to the sheer magnitude of your complete lack of talent and failure to carry out the job for which you are paid to do. I am not aware of any swear word or other derogatory phrase in my current vocabulary which comes close to a description of your ‘performance’ (and I use that term loosely) this afternoon, but let me just say that you have collectively reached a level of inadequacy and ineptitude that neither I nor modern science had previously considered possible.

In fact I recall a time, in my youth, when I decided to call in sick at work and instead spent the entire day in my one bedroom flat wearing nothing but my underpants, eating toast and ------- furiously over second-rate Scandinavian porn. Yet somehow, I still managed to contribute more to my employer in that one Andrex-filled day than you complete bunch of toss-baskets have contributed to this club in your entire time here.

I would genuinely like to know how you pathetic little pishflaps sleep at night, knowing full well that you have taken my money and that of several thousand others and delivered precisely ---- all in return. I run a business myself, and I believe I could take any 4,000 of my customers at random; burn down their houses, impregnate their wives and then dismember their children before systematically sending them back in the post, limb-by-limb, and still ensure a level of customer satisfaction which exceeds that which I have experienced at Blundell Park at any time so far this season.
You are a total disgrace, not only to your profession, not only to the human race, but to nature itself. This may sound like an exaggeration, but believe me when I say that I have passed kidney stones which have brought me a greater level of pleasure and entertainment than watching each of you worthless excuses for professional footballers attempt to play a game you are clearly incapable of playing, week-in, week-out.

I considered, for a second, that I was perhaps being a little too harsh. But then I recalled that I have blindly given you all the benefit of the doubt for too long now. Yes, for too long you have failed to earn the air you’ve been breathing by offering any kind of tangible quality either as footballers or as people in general. As such, I feel it’s only fair that your supply runs out forthwith.

I trust, at this precise moment in time, that Mr Fenty is in his office tapping away on the easyJet web site booking you all one-way flights to Zurich, complete with an overnight stay with our cheese eating friends at Dignitas. Don’t bother packing your toothbrush – you won’t need it.

In the event that our beloved chairman can’t afford the expense (understandable given that he’s soon going to have to assemble a new squad from scratch), then I am prepared to sell my family (including my unborn child) to a dubious consortium of Middle Eastern businessmen in order to pay for the flights. Christ, I’ll drive you there myself, one-by one, without sleep, if I have to.

Failing that, understanding that most dubious Middle Eastern businessmen are tied-up purchasing Premier League football clubs, I ask you to please take matters into your hands. Use your imagination, guys – strangle yourselves or cover yourself in tinfoil and take a fork to a nearby plug socket, or something. Just put yourselves and us fans out of our collective misery.
So, in summary, you pack of repugnant, sputum-filled, invertebrate --------; leave this club now and don’t you ------- dare look back. You’ve consistently demonstrated less passion and desire than can commonly be found within the contents of a sloth’s scrotum, so frankly you can just all ---- off – don’t pass go, don’t collect your wages, don’t ever come back to this town again.

I look forward to you serving me at my local McDonald’s drive-through in the near future.
Yours sincerely
A very disillusioned Mariner
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source: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/6579407/Grimsby-Town-fan-letter-the-full-text-of-Poojahs-rant.html

you can't teach anger like this... this is poetry. :D
 
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HAHAHAHAHA

Now I’m as optimistic as anyone when it comes to this twát of a football club, but after this afternoon’s latest capitulation it’s time to wake up and smell the coffee – we’re fúcked. Down. Goners. Non-league. To be honest I didn’t know how it would affect me, it’s not like it hasn’t been coming, but tonight I just feel absolutely deflated. Absolutely fúcking devastated.

I can’t get away from these emotions, I just want the whole world to just fúck off and leave me alone. To help me come to terms with this whole mess, I’ve decided to compile a list of everyone and everything I want to fúck off most of all.


For starters, work can fúck off. If they think I’m going to be there on Monday morning they’ve got another thing coming. No way am I going in to spend time dealing with cúnts that I can barely stand being with when I’m in a good mood, let alone this crushing feeling of anger, frustration and outright metaphorical-kicked-in-the-bóllocks-ness.

Plastic Premier League fans can fúck off. I just spoke to my Manchester United supporting neighbour (who incidentally, has been to Old Trafford before – twice) about Town’s predicament. You know what he said? “I know how you feel; it’s like when we failed to win a trophy in ‘95”. NO IT FÚCKING WELL IS NOT!

He no longer has a face.

The girlfriend can definitely fúck off. Her best attempt at consolation – “I don’t know why you’re bothered; you knew they were shít anyway”. Yes love, but they’re MY shít team. They’ve been MINE for pretty much as long as I’ve been able to wipe my own árse, and they’ll be MINE for as long as I’m alive (or at least, until I’m no longer able to wipe my own árse). Truth is, watching my team win does things for me that no woman can. If push comes to shove and I’m horny, I can always have a wánk.

Barrow can fúck off. I’ve been all over the country and beyond to watch my team, but frankly I just don’t have the stomach to visit any town which makes S****horpe look like fúcking St. Tropez.

Dad, you can fúck off. This is your fault. Your idea. You introduced me to this shower of shít. “Come with me to Blundell Park”, you said, “Come and support the boys”. What could I do? I was fúcking four, what choice did I have? Why not get me hooked on Heroin whilst you were at it? I could have gone with mum shopping for bras and knickers at British Home Stores, but no, you knew best.

Granted, I’d have probably grown up a homosexual but surely even being simultaneously búggered two guys named Seth and Quentin couldn’t hurt like this.

Seeing as we’re on the subject of homosexuality, Gok Wan can fúck off. No particular reason, I just plain don’t like the annoying, goggle-eyed cúnt.

The F.A. can fúck off. Not for supplying us, week-in, week- out, with inept referee after inept referee, but for imposing sensible financial rules on all clubs in League Two. How many clubs in this division have been into administration this season? Not one. How many points deducted? Not one. How the fúck else are we supposed to avoid relegation – footballing merit? We didn’t have to last season, so why spoil the fun now?

The World Cup can fúck off – I don’t care anymore.

My local pizza shop can fúck off. I ordered a 12” Pepperoni over an hour ago, and where the fúck is it? Are they trying to fúcking fly it to me or something?

Sky Sports can fúck off. Nothing personal, but there’ll be little need for me next season with no Town to be found anywhere. Ooh, Bolton versus Wolves, LIVE. I think I’ll pass…

The radio can fúck off. On my way home from the match, whilst driving down the M180, I caught three completely separate stations playing ‘Down’ by Jay Sean at the exact same fúcking time. The song’s the best part of a year old, how the fúck does that happen by coincidence!?

My nan’s old lucky Buddha that used to sit in her front room can fúck off. When I was a kid I held it in my hands and wished for Town to be in the Premier League. I meant the proper one you fat cúnt, not the one occupied by Histon, Eastbourne and for fúck’s sake, Ebbsfleet, wherever that is.

Tonight can fúck off. I’ve had enough of trying to cope with my emotions; the time has come for oblivion. I haven’t kept any booze in the house since an occasion known only as ‘That Night’ by myself and the missus, but suffice to say that the toilet duck and luminous blue mouthwash are looking like stronger propositions by the minute.

Most of all though, the last 10 years can fúck off. In that time I’ve watched my team fall from the top of the Championship into non-league nothingness. We’ve gone from one great big fúck up to the next without even coming up for air, and today is just the big, fúck off cherry on top.

One thing I’m sure of though is that we WILL be back. When it comes down to it, a football club is basically just a set of supporters, and frankly what I’ve learned in the last few years is that this one has some of the best. We’ve had to put up with some shít, haven’t we boys, but in spite of all of that the future is still bright – it’s fúcking black and white.

Grimsby ‘til I die…
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Sourcehttp://www.heavensports.com/football/world-fk-grimsby-fan-rant/

Another quality rant!!!
 
If you google it, you will find that it has done it's rounds for the last few months. First time i have seen it though. Very fscking funny!
 
don’t ever come back to this town again.

I look forward to you serving me at my local McDonald’s drive-through in the near future.
Yours sincerely
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Make up your mind mate :D:D
 
OMG shame you have to feel for these guys. I have been there more than once the past Barclay Card Premier League Season. bwahahahahahahahaha :D
 
These are my favorite parts.

In fact I recall a time, in my youth, when I decided to call in sick at work and instead spent the entire day in my one bedroom flat wearing nothing but my underpants, eating toast and ------- furiously over second-rate Scandinavian porn. Yet somehow, I still managed to contribute more to my employer in that one Andrex-filled day than you complete bunch of toss-baskets have contributed to this club in your entire time here.
Click to expand...
Dad, you can fúck off. This is your fault. Your idea. You introduced me to this shower of shít. “Come with me to Blundell Park”, you said, “Come and support the boys”. What could I do? I was fúcking four, what choice did I have? Why not get me hooked on Heroin whilst you were at it? I could have gone with mum shopping for bras and knickers at British Home Stores, but no, you knew best.
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:D :D BRILLIANT!!

You can just feel their pain.
 
BUMP for anyone who missed it. I just love reading these rants.
 
“I take more pleasure in seeing Chelsea lose than I do in seeing QPR win at the moment.

I sat through so many matches when we were absolute dog**** under the likes of Ray Harford and with people like Paul Bruce, Matthew Brazier and Mark Perry in the squad and I never felt like this.

The club isn’t ours anymore but moreso than that – football is just properly gash these days.

I mean really gash.

football generally.

I hate nearly everything about it these days….

I hate the Prem and the myth that it is exciting this year. Man City breaking into the top four isn’t exciting. They spent loads of money. It’s no more exciting that Nameless **** getting to number 1 in the charts after winning the X-Factor.

I hate the myth of Arsene’s kids. Buying some French kid when he’s 17, playing him in the League Cup and then selling him when he’s 20 after about 3 appearances in the league is NOTHING SPECIAL.

I hate hearing about Liverpool/Man Utd’s debt but nothing ever happening about it. A club needs to go to the wall for the money thing to change but it doesn’t happen. Why the **** are Charlton, Leeds and Southampton still in business?

I hate Frank Lampard’s stupid ****ing face. I hate that Joe Cole’s tongue is never in his mouth, the downsy spacker. I hate John Terry being England captain when he’s CLEARLY AN OAF.

I hate young exciting wingers who have nothing but pace. Tony Scully had nothing but pace.

I hate Harry ****ing Redknapp. And Jamie Redknapp. And Louise Redknapp.. And the Wii.

I hate Gary Lineker and Alan Shearer.

I hate Garth Crooks.

I hate Garth Brooks a lot for that matter.

I hate Sky Sports.

I hate that when a lower league player beats 10 players and chips the keeper it doesn’t matter but if Rooney scores from more than 20 yards it’s amazing.

I hate that female sports journos are now mandatory.

I hate Mark Lawrenson for not coming out. ‘I do like a big man at the back’. I bet you do.

I hate any advert that portrays football to be about anything other than pain and disappointment.

I hate Lee Hughes and the fact that he makes a living from the game. I hate Marlon King and any team that signs him when he gets out. I hate that it’ll probably be us.

I hate Phil Brown.

I hate ‘well the ball is a lot lighter now and will cause goalkeepers real problems this summer’ before EVERY ****ING TOURNAMENT!

I hate that Kieron Dyer earned more in the time I took to write this post than I’ll earn this month.

I hate Adrian Durham, Ian Wright and Alan Brazil.

I hate Gazza. Either die or shut up. Stop ****ing lingering.

I hate hearing about Hillsborough more than I hear about Heysel or Bradford.

I hate Leeds.

I hate Roy Keane.

I hate grown men wearing football shirts of their team whilst shopping on a saturday when their team is playing at home.

I hate that I don’t hate Roy Hodgson.

I hate Jermaine Beckford and any player who has neck tattoos.

I hate songs being inappropriately taken as club anthems and then sung in a manly way. ‘I’m forever blowing bubbles….’. Gaylords.

I hate Danny Dyer and anyone he’s ever interviewed.

I hate the book ‘Cass’ by Cass Pennant. It is honestly the stupidest thing I’ve ever read. Chapter 1: Millwall. ‘Yeah we took 50 to Millwall. They had 1000 in their mob but we ran ‘em up and down the street’. Chapter 2: Liverpool. ‘Yeah we took 50 to Liverpool. They had 2000 in their mob but we ran ‘em up and down the street’. **** me… Jade Goody’s autobiography is probably better. Even her non-ghost written one.

I hate that all good youngsters end their careers at Spurs before they start.”
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This is also good from a QPR fan
 
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