Bonjour! C’est vrai, un joueur de football qui parle anglais dans une autre langue, essayez de ne pas être trop surpris maintenant hein? Tout simplement parce que le soi-disant ‘Golden (Olden) Génération” n’avaient pas les boules d’être chassés de leur pays pour rejoindre une équipe dans une ville qui se trouve à avoir un faible pour les bien-pensants maniaques, ne signifie pas que vous devez être surpris par moi. Mon but est de Marseille, et il est bon de pouvoir enfin jouer pour une équipe qui me fait. Il sera grand séjour en France, parce que ce sera comme une culture complètement différente de celle que je suis habitué à la maison, où je peux être un voyou vicieux et encore raisonnablement espérer être dépeint comme une victime. En Angleterre, j’ai été étouffé par une absence totale de liberté de création et l’impression que je ne pourrais jamais faire ce que je veux ou être la personne que je voulais être, mais en France, je peux tout à fait heureusement manger des pâtisseries en plein jour dans un ironique t-shirt et chaussures preoposterous sans être appelé un branleur. C’est magnifiquecent! Je n’oublierai pas mes racines bien. C’est comme le grand philosophe français Jean-Michel Jarre a dit, l’amour que nous faisons est égal à cuire les gâteaux que nous. Pouvez-vous imaginer Stevie G disant quelque chose comme ça dans un café français sans ressembler à un ridicule, essayez-dur, récidiviste, merde-pour-cerveaux? Non, ne le pense pas. Certaines personnes ne manquent conscience de soi. Je pars pour nettoyer mes oignons.
Bonjour! That’s right, an English football player speaking in another language, try not to be too surprised now eh? Just because the so-called ‘Golden (Olden) Generation’ lacked the balls to be hounded out of their own country to join a team in a town that happens to have a soft spot for well-meaning maniacs, doesn’t mean you should be surprised by me. I’m dedicated to Marseilles, and it’s good to finally play for a team that gets me. It’ll be great living in France, because it will be like a completely different culture to the one I’m used to at home, where I can be a vicious thug and still realistically hope to be portrayed as a victim. In England I was suffocated by a total lack of creative freedom and felt like I could never do the things I wanted to do or be the person I wanted to be, but in France I can quite happily eat pastries in broad daylight in an ironic t-shirt and preoposterous shoes without being called a tosser. It’s magnifiquecent! I won’t forget my roots though. It’s like the great French philosopher Jean-Michel Jarre said, the love we make is equal to the cakes we bake. Can you imagine Stevie G saying something like that in a French cafe without looking like a ridiculous, try-hard, recidivist, shit-for-brains? Nah, didn’t think so. Some people just lack self-awareness. I’m off to clean my onions.
This week I have been snacking on roasted monkey nuts, because I find them delicious, like crunchy, dried-up pellets of peanut butter. Frankly I don’t see what’s controversial about this, or even interesting, but that’s the point I’m making in this experiment of mine. I’m not a performing seal. I’m not here to win your approval. I’m not a figure of fun, or an entertainment for your viewing pleasure. Sometimes I like to eat nuts and that’s that. What other footballer is put under this much scrutiny just because he likes to snack on nuts? Frankly, I never used to like nuts and I’ve only recently come round to them somehow, but I’m a changed man. I have reformed, and now monkey nuts and I get on better than ever. If you’d offered me some monkey nuts while I was still at City, I would’ve punched them everywhere. Yes, we all know that. But not anymore. That Joey Barton is in the past. I’m sorry if that’s “boring” and doesn’t “sell” “papers”. I’m off to eat some nuts now – put that in your gossip column, nuggets.
This week I decided to start taking pilates classes. We have an instructor at the club, and she says it will help me become bendy. If it’s good enough for Ryan Giggs then it’s good enough for me. Funny how I can’t say the same of the treatment we’re both given by the press though – I get in trouble and I’m crucified for it, Giggsy Wiggsy is naughty and has an affair and he’s everyone’s hero. Sure, a lit cigar in someone’s eye is one thing, but what was that if not a Freudian phallic symbol, trying to penetrate the wider public consciousness in a cry for help? At least that was symbolic, while Saint Ryan was literally poking his #helmet where it shouldn’t have been. Anyway, if it’s helped him play until 38 then I guess I should give it a go. I’ll need to play until I’m at least 40 if I’m ever going to play for England again, which I definitely don’t care or think about, despite me mentioning it again just there. #englandrubbishatfootball
This week I’ve been adding ground cinnamon to my morning muesli. It’s like a ‘make-your-own-cereal’ type of thing. It just adds a bit of fun to the mornings before training, very decent. Just because it doesn’t fit into the media’s typical mould of what the modern footballer should be eating for breakfast doesn’t mean it’s not worth trying. Honestly, it’s like no-one will be happy until I’m eating something different for breakfast altogether. But let me ask you – would I have the same problem with Weetabix? Shredded Wheat Bitesize? Cadbury’s Krave? You know the truth…
This week I bought some anti-frizz shampoo (meant for women of course, yeah. So what?) even though I have perfectly straight hair. I was under the impression that it would make my hair smell nice, but truth be told it was quite uninspiring. I decided to take a gamble and it didn’t pay off, but that’s what all the best players have done from time to time. I’m not afraid of trying new things, even if it didn’t work out. How often do you see that in English football? I’m sure I’ll get abuse for this (again!), but I never agreed to be anybody’s role model. In future I’ll keep my mouth shut. Bloody fascists at the FA trying to control us, very Orwellian, but you won’t silence me. I’ve read four books!
This week I added gluten-free bread to the Ocado shop, even though I’m 100% tolerant of gluten. I usually go for Warburton’s granary thick slice, but we had a disagreement, everyone knows that. But what’s done is done, it’s all in my past now, and it’s been a long time since last I had any issues with bread (or carbohydrates in general, whatever the Daily FAIL thinks it knows about my “attitude” to pasta). I can’t wait to see how the papers try and spin that one.