There once was a not-so-goodlooking boy, but he play football not badlah. Then Man Utd signed him for a fee large enough to pull three African nations out of poverty. Unfortunately, Man Utd's talent at judging player potential is more like an anti-talent, so like all the flops before him, he'll produce enough hot air to float a ship backed by enough shitty performances to fertilise the whole Trafford pitch (hurhur); at which point Ferguson (if he hasn't got sacked yet) will proceed to throw a shoe at him (throw accurate accurate can or not?) and then Looney will move to Real - who are nothing but a bunch of lucky buggers because they oso cannot beat the small small teams wan.
There he'll spend season after season warming the changing room bench, cleaning Raul's boots, and hoping he'll get to see even one blade of grass (sob sob). Eventually his ass will be numb from all the sitting, and he'll move to Man City citing "irreconciliable differences" (yea rite) to begin fading into obscurity (like David who?).
The End.
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