"Did somebody order some chopsticks?"

On the whole, Stephen Roberts likes football. Really. But there are some things that really grind his gears...

It's easy to be cynical, bitter and twisted in a world where that harpie Jordan aka Katie Price aka Slagathor will earn in a day, what most of us peasants will earn annually. Here at Toepoke, I'm sure you've noticed, we like to think ourselves professional cynics.
 
And as a citizen of these fair isles, it is a God-given gift to be able take the thing you most adore and systematically dismantle it to a state of unrecognition. Personally, I've done this with a few things; kebabs, careers, and relationships - seemingly on a weekly basis. Next on the list, it's the biggy. Football. Here are five things I hate about the game I love. If you get me...
 
1) Crap pundits

I'm contemplating passing my holidays by plotting how to rid the earth of David Pleat, John Barnes et al. Will you please take the money you've made out of the game and piss off. Pleat, you in particular, give me a re-occuring vision of trying to empty the contents of my head, via my nasal cavity, with chopsticks. I should probably talk to someone about that.
 
2) Pathetic Players

Phil Neville. You have played football for at least 16 years, so how come you're still fucking dire? Let's say: two hours daily, over 46 weeks of the year, minus time on the treament table, carry the four, divide by one = 10,304 hours. And that's only time that can be accounted for. The real figure is probably double this. So is there any chance one day that you might pass the ball to players wearing the same sodding shirt?
 
3) Shit fans

Do not, I repeat, do not, leave the game with five minutes to go. You pay £25-£30 for the privilege of watching your side. If you leave after 85 minutes for every home game, you're missing, on average, eight minutes per game (12 if you're a Manchester United fan...) over the course of a Premier League season that's 152 minutes, ie - a game and two thirds. Why? If you're a Stoke fan you've an excuse because you are about as entertaining as pneumonia. And another thing, sing. No-one cares if you sound like Luther Vandross or Barry fucking Chuckle. Sing, shout and scream till you're hoarse.
 
4) MOTD2

Mr Chiles' second mentioning in this post. His lack of knowledge of football is rivalled only by his inability to grow facial hair. Just whack the highlights of games up on BBC football like they do with Championship games.
 
5) Pathetic Players II

How many times are corners cleared at the front post? It's not rocket science. Aim for between the six-yard box and penalty spot, fire in around nine foot from ground level. Don't give the aforementioned pundits the chance to fire out the old "useful in both boxes" adage in the direction of Drogba and other defending centreforwards.

And...breathe. Barring the Chilesmeister's inadequacies, my other qualms are very much resolvable. Someone please help me out before I reach for the chopsticks...