GI Ferdinand

One of the most disappointing incidents in my life came when I found out that my GI Joe doll had the same genitals as my cousins Barbie doll. I was 6 or 7 at the time. The story about the “birds and the bees” had been explained to me, and I wanted to see if Joe and Barbie could “do it”.

They couldn’t.

From that day onwards, I never played with my GI Joe doll again. What a shame.

In the football world, my biggest disappointment was when I met Rio Ferdinand.

In the Spring of 2000, a work colleague invited me to Buddha Bar or some other equivalent overpriced want-to-be-seen snot hole in London. His best friend was the manager and got us passes into the VIP section. I thought I’d give it a go.

At that time Buddha Bar was a hang out for a lot of Premiership players and small time celebrities. A place that I could only afford one drink and didn’t feel comfortable wearing my older brothers Armani suit that was a size too big and 5 years out of date.

The place was decked out. I did what most average Mother F’s did. I chose a corner to stand in or hide in and stared but in a manner that was not obvious. You know the kind of stare I’m talking about. It’s the same stare that you have when you meet a woman and start talking to her chest. Well, what else could I do. I had no chance with any of the women, getting smashed was out of my league, so staring like a sicko was all that was left

Anyway, after a while in walks Rio Ferdinand decked out in some snide green outfit type of suit with pointed black shoes. The cont looked like GI Joe but civilian style. I took an instant dislike to him. He was really tall, muscular, goofy looking and arrogant. Really arrogant and really tall. The wanker thought he owned the joint.

Ferdinand was alone and spent much of the night alone. Every now and then some tart would make small talk with him only to find Rio about as responsive as a dead household appliance.

Watching him looking miserable with an attitude of being too good for those around him made me hate the tosser even more.

Then, for some odd reason Rio walked over to my corner. We were face to face. I didn’t want to act like a groupie. I tried to pretend that I didn’t know him. So I did what most people in my position would do.

I froze with my arms crossed and said nothing. Rio was in control.

Then Rio asked me a question:

“Are you security?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

He then walked away. And that was the end of our brief conversation. I felt disappointed, and to this day I still don’t know why.

Ferdinand is a thicko. When players from the 20 Premier League teams were asked what their favorite book was Bacary Sagna chose Muhammad Ali’s autobiography “The Soul of a Butterfly.”

Rio Ferdinand chose a book for children called “Dinosaur Bob and His Adventures With Family Lazardo.” And to think that this guy was considered for the England captaincy. That said, I wonder what John Terry reads. Probably the directions on the back of his microwave meal, if anything.

Most England players are disappointing. I guess I’m expecting fireworks. Instead, I get Michael Owen who talks like a Real Estate Agent and has the personality of a dull pharmacist. Or you have goofball Rio and his superficial soundbites that he uses when interviewed, using key words such as performance, team spirit, worked hard in training, and the gaffer.

I would rather listen to Barbie and GI Joe, even though they can’t fuck or talk. They would be much more entertaining.

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