Frank Lampard
From Frikipedia
Overrated, overplayed, and overweight, Frank Lampard encapsulates the bloated excesses of the Premiership inside his own ample frame.
Plays for everyone's favourite money-grabbing, Russian-owned football-ruiners, Chelsea, along with being possibly the most overrated of all the overpaid playboy losers which currently inhabit England's hilariously crap national side, where the entire team has to be moulded around trying to coax a performance of note out of him. Hence, the infinitely better Steven Gerrard is palmed off with a role on the right wing, and Joey Barton is left behind in Manchester, where he can assault people in nightclubs to relieve his frustration.
His inability to pass when within the opposition half probably dates back to his time at school, when he would probably have been the fat kid with the rich parents who got bought a Mitre Delta to make him popular with the other kids at school, only to find that they'd never pass the ball to him, and he'd eventually have to throw a tantrum and take his ball home.
The Goals aka "Who did that come off?"
Has become a prolific scorer of goals in the Premiership, largely from following the tried and trusted pattern of a fat middle-aged man with a chest infection wheezing his way through a Sunday League game. Namely:
- Collect ball around 30 yards from goal.
- Ignore four team-mates in better attacking positions.
- Hit ball as hard as you can in the vague direction of the goal.
- Wait for defender/teammate/referee to accidentally deflect the ball as it goes through the sea of bodies between you and the goal.
- Cheer as ball flies ino the net after deflection totally wrong-foots the goalkeeper.
- Waddle off towards crowd smiling and kissing imaginary-ring-on-finger.
- Collect cheque for £130,000 at the end of the week.
- Repeat.
The World Cup aka "When you're done there Frank, grab that banjo and aim for this cow's arse."
Sadly, this obvious talent was found out at the recent World Cup in Germany, when other players refused to get in the way of his erattic punts, and Frank kept the ball-boys busy as they attempted to fight their way through ten thousand drunken English thugs behind the goal to try and get the ball back.
