Written by Backandtotheleft
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Friday, 19 July 2013

"Right let's get one thing straight, I don't like you and you don't like me." Raged Newcastle's new Director of football Joe Kinnear.

"You don't even know us." Back and to the Left news protested. Even by our standards this interview had started badly.

"Seriously you lot are so stupid, I bet you don't even know the capital of China. I do because I'm so smart."

"Beijing?" We answered hoping to get this interview back on track.

"Ha! No." Joe sneered.

We were pretty sure it was but wanting to steer the conversation towards football and away from geography we pressed on.

"Joe, what do you have to say to the Newcastle fans who may feel
alienated by some of you claims in previous interviews?"

"Fuck em and fuck you too. If people can't take a bit of banter a few home truths and as much unpleasantness as you can fit into a impromptu set of radio interviews then fuck em."

Wondering if this was even a answer we carried on.

"Do you have anything to say to Alan Pardew? Assurances that his job is safe or-"

We were cut off by Joe slinging his now empty pint glass to the floor, did we mention we were in a pub? No? sorry about that.
"Pardew? More like Par-dont! If I'd had access to the likes of Pappy Sissy, Dim Crud and Hat Em Over There Farther I'd have won the Champions league, twice! I'm the most connected man in football."

As if to demonstrate his point he withdrew his phone and started barking down it.

"Is that Pep? Pep it's Joe here. Drop that Robben geezer he looks like a peanut! Get yourself Joey Barton on board and you'll be in tip top shape."

He put the phone back into his pocket. Curiously enough no one but Joe had heard the phone ring, maybe it was ringing at a frequency only pratts can here.

"All in a days work boys I can ring any manager in the world and tell em who to drop or play or sell and they'll do it, cos they know old Joey doesn't lead em wrong." He banged his fist on the bar. "Godammit barman where's a drink fit for a world cup winner!"

It was at this point we decided to leave before the football authorities turned up and nerve gassed the place as it's the only way to put a curb on Joe Kinnear's ego

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The story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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