It's the last day of the EPL Premier League of English soccer, when the big football issues are rounded up and herded into a big shed like cattle. While there are minor sidebars to decide, such as who gets to avoid the Europa Shield and so forth, the real pith and moment surrounds the question of just who is the most useless Geordie twat of a manager? The Shearer Cup, if you will.
Is it Steve "Brucie" Bruce of Hull Tigers, or John "Special John" Carver of the Newcastle Sports Direct Jets? Only by crunching the numbers can the answer be found, so let the crunching begin!
JC: Despite the fact that he speaks in a cut-glass BBC style accent, John Carver is actually from Newcastle. This often goes unnoticed by many people despite the fact he mentions it In Every Fucking Interview, thinking that his Tyneside roots will compensate for an absence of any tactical, motivation, or communicational ability.
SB: Often keen to play up his Geordie credentials and boyhood affinity for NUFC whenever there is a chance of landing the manager's job or explaining why the mackem supporters didn't care for him, Bruce is actually from Corbridge in Northumberland. So not technically a Geordie. However, his enthusiastic support for the fine products of Tyneside's baked product solutions chain The Greggs sees him score well in this round.
JC: Sacked from the MSL soccer franchise Toronto Moosefuckers, Carver's record as a gaffer is not the most glorious. Despite this, and his abysmal results in the SJP hot seat, he seems to think this track record, as well as being a professional Geordie, entitles him to a full time contract at a Premier League club. Quite the set of balls.
SB: A managerial career at two-bit clubs such as Sheffield United, Birmingham Zulus, Huddersfield and Sunderland have seen him plough a consistent furrow of mediocrity, leavened by occasional promotions. Signed a three year contract in March 2015 despite being in the midst of a relegation battle. Not daft, this lad. Two words - compen fuckinsation.
Hot or not?
JC: Recently voted the Best Looking Man in the World by himself, JC's rugged looks may be just the thing for the odd fruity boiler in Grey's Club or down Bar Luga, but it's safe to say Harry Styles and him out of Twilight Saga can rest easy enough in their beds.
SB: Dashing good looks are not Brucie's strong suit, with the Hull boss looking as though he's been bobbing for chips in a deep fat fryer. Looking like a rougher version of Mrs Brown or Queen Bea from Prison Cell Block H, Stevie's ongoing love affair with the pies is unlikely to see him gracing the cover of GQ or Massive Arms magazine any time soon.
JC: An endless supply of excuses flow from the mouth of Carver like honey from a bee's bellend. Whether he's blaming the hot climate of QPR in May, or bemoaning the fact that a few protesting fatsos waving bedsheets were putting off his team of millionaire footballers, he's never stuck for a reason why It's Not His Fault, Honest. Strong work.
SB: Famously claimed that Sunderland supporters wanted him out because he supported Newcastle, rather than the more prosaic reason that his team were shite and going to get relegated. Has also been quick to blame disgruntled supporters at Hull rather than himself or his players when things have gone wrong.
JC: With a nose as straight as a Roman road, or one of Iron Mike Williamson's upfield punts into touch, the Newcastle manager finishes on a high with a perfect 9 out of ten.
SB: Oh dear. With a schnozz that looks like a blind cobbler's thumb, Stevie's conk is all over the place, with the integrity of a FIFA enquiry. If Steven Fry ever mated with a proboscis monkey (not that he would) the resulting offspring might grow up to be a less bent-nosed version of Steve Bruce. Essentially, I'm saying, no, his nose isn't straight.
Final Score: John Carver 34 Steve Bruce 21
There we have it. John Carver, a man so hapless he hasn't seen a hap in years, is clearly the Most Useless Geordie Manager. Another proud title to add to his Best EPL Manager In My Opinion and Greatest Golfer accolades.
Enjoy the Championship John, you fucking knacker!