I'm Bert Tiddle and you've never heard of me. Before Alex Ferguson took Scotland to the '86 World Cup, I offered him my goal scoring services even though I had been told I was no longer welcome in the country by a shop owner who found me drunkenly defiling his melons. Fergie laughed at my offer and Scotland ended up finishing last in their group with one goal scored. Fergie was wrong and that shop owner was a numpty.
I was arguing with Accident, one of my 18 kids, about whether he will be going to summer camp at a shoe factory this year (he's going) when I heard the news that old Fergie got himself a five-match ban for moaning about referees. Brilliant. As soon as I heard that I told Accident to go play in the street and texted Ferguson "lol at u." He texted me back a bunch of symbols and then a second later he sent another message asking, "Who is this?" I told him it was the striker who was willing to betray his motherland to play for him in '86 and he said, "What are you on about?"
At this point, Sam Allardyce -- who has been a frequent and annoying house guest recently -- woke up in my breakfast nook and wanted to know what was going on. I asked him what he was chewing on and he said he must have fallen asleep with food in his mouth. He thought it was chicken, but he chews with his mouth open like a zoo creature so I could tell it was something made of plastic.
Once I kicked Sam out, I texted Ferguson again to see what he thought of the ban and he said, "I think it's almost as stupid as you are." So then I texted him a picture of the old Tiddle tackle and that was that. I'm going to make sure Allardyce doesn't hit my kid with his car.
Follow Bert on Twitter. Or don't. He doesn't care.
Photo: Reuters
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