In December even a cruel, ruthless Russian overlord's mind turns to seasonal merriment. We Abramovichs celebrate Christmas like all of you. Only this morning I hunted reindeer from my chopper with agent orange, and on Christmas eve we'll enjoy dwarfs re-enacting the film '300' in the drawing room to peals of children's laughter. It's a time of reflection on a year of great achievement. The first act of The Special One Mourinho's elimination is complete. The second act will come as soon as The Pit Of Ducks With Shark's Teeth is ready and the 'Armani Sale' sign is installed outside. My experimental giant toad cadaver / voice box hybrid was installed as head coach, and my cleaner made Avram's episode with the journalist and the industrial bacon slicer go away quickly. 2008 will see deployment of my chloroform impregnated Chelsea scarves with ezi-garrote action, and my finest hour will soon be at hand.
I wish you the best for 2008. Be you my friend, you will die quickly, with an absolute minimum of stabbing. Be you my enemy... your face will soon be familiar with the ground, repeatedly and from very high up. Good health!
No comments:
Post a Comment