O Come All Ye Platefuls

Like people in all walks of life, footballers come in different shapes and sizes. If you wanted to classify them into types, you can normally stretch to something amounting to ‘nippy winger’, ‘commanding centre-back’, ‘powerful striker’ and ‘midfield terrier’. All are valid classifications. One other type though, is a bit more cult than all the others, inspiring affection and comedy in equal degree. At this festive time of indulgence, and given the evisceration of Levante’s Sergio Ballesteros on Twitter, we tip our caps to the ‘fat lad’ – a man who in Magic Spongers terms, is just as much brilliant shiny apples as he is stupid smelly onions.

Web Of Deceit

"Am I allowed to go back to Liverpool now?"

Spurs season ticket holder Hugh Lindley makes his debut for Magic Spongers

Official football club websites fascinate me. Getting the ‘official line’ on any controversial story is usually as fascinatingly false as the seemingly implausible scandals pedalled in newspapers are true. On club websites, journalists are routinely derided as liars, stirrers and heathens – before their stories invariably turn out to be true.

A Few Good (Football) Men

"I BET my stock can fall further than yours in three years"

So the Premier League is getting a winter break after all. Well, almost. While the snow goes about clearing the traditional and ludicrously busy Christmas fixture list quicker than we can clear a table at an awards ceremony, a couple of the weekend’s top-flight matches were at least salvaged. Unfortunately, they were both rubbish, which only served to suggest that if there is to be a seasonal break on these shores, it shouldn’t necessarily be from furiously practising football.

Yuletide Slog

Are titles won at Christmas? The short answer is: ‘Only if you are Manchester United or Chelsea (and even then it isn’t guaranteed).’ Flying in the face of our usual ‘high on rant, low on fact’ content of late, here is some actual, real-life analysis: Since the Premier League’s inception in 1992/3, there have been nine separate occasions when the table was topped by a club other than Manchester United and Chelsea at Christmas. Yet only once in that time has the side looking down on the rest on Christmas Day – Kenny Dalglish’s Blackburn side of 1994-95 – gone on to take the title.

Ashley Gets Gun, Trains On Foot

Yeah GOOD ONE.

I think we all know where this one’s going. If any proof were needed that Mike Ashley is… well, a cock, we got it today. I’ve tried to think of a good reason for showing Chris Hughton the door at St. James’s Park and for the life of me, I can’t. All that this decision will ensure is that at Newcastle’s next home game (v Liverpool on December 11th), Ashley is about as welcome as an onion in a bag of apples. Do you hear that, Mike Ashley? YOU FUCKING ONION.

Beeb Fucks Everything Up For Everyone Especially The Kids

Despite the cold snap outside and the hour and a half commute I felt cheery this morning. Chipper even. Nothing warms a Magic Sponger’s cockles like a surge of righteous indignation as misplaced as a Sergio Ramos tackle on Lionel Messi. And so it began when I got to my desk. Never mind going to the Guardian’s website, they’ll only reaffirm my own opinions and who wants that? No. I first went, with not a little glee, to see what Ian ‘Mr England’ Wright made of yesterday’s proceedings in Zurich. True to form, absolute fucking goldmine. I could already hear the chants of ‘its too easy’ ringing in my ears, but that’s the point. Ghost written or not, Wrighty’s comments are so wide of the mark as to make a Qatari striker look deadly.