"I just couldn't take no more!" claimed ex-United moaning manager Mourinho as the axe fell and the 'Sword of Damocles' dropped to sever the tentacles of this once proud 'Portuguese Man O War!'
"It's manslaughter!" He claimed whilst bagging £22 million quid, not squid, and leaving his £800,00 quid a night, not squid, luxury suite in the middle of Manchester.
Sadly, the Manchester police had more important things on their minds after a bunch of Scousers attempted to break into his jewellery box filled with trophies only non-human, "special ones" could ever dream of!
Luckily the 'Fat Lady Sung' in time and the Scousers scampered off back down the Great Manchester highway (should I mention Dick Turpin?) with empty hands and their Kraut leader determined to exorcise the memories of Manchester marauders of bygone years wearing kilts.
As for Mourning Mourinho, his time in Northern parts was terminated by a French Terminator who wears diamonds in his shoes, gold trimmed designer undies and, pretends to be a all-conquering Napoleonic leader in times of La Revolution: His parting message to moaning, man-slaughtered Mourinho:
"Vive le France, Vive la Revolution, et Vive moi Rolls Royces, imbecile!"
