Here are some other places where I’ve smeared magnificent words for your dubious amusement.
Excellent combination of football, art and humour. Find me in issue 5 onwards, with short stories on subjects such as Tony Watt’s greatest moment, Phil Bardsley’s greed, the shirtless goal celebration and more. And more! You can view Pickles for free online. But why not treat yourself to a hard copy and make the most of the artwork, which frequently features all of your favourite colours and shapes.
In December 2013 I wrote an article on Tom Cleverley, proclaiming him the owner of football’s sweatiest face, and comparing him to a puzzled-looking pickled onion. If you don’t like pickled snacks, I also elaborate on why his Manchester United career appears to be stalling, and why there may be less obvious reasons for his malaise.
Find me in issue two of this e-zine in ‘The Gift That Keeps On Giving’, where I tell a potted version of my life story through the prism of major football tournaments. Why? Because my birthday just so happens to be on June 30, a key date in the football calendar. Imagine being photobombed by Karel Poborsky and Jan Koller. Tantalising, huh? Check it out.
Monthly magazine produced by the team behind the Well-Red Liverpool fanzine. Great range of articles and smells unusually nice too. Check me out in issues #9, #10, #12, #13 and #15.
Respected for their campaigning against the various ills of modern football (turns out there are loads, you guys), their fanzines are given limited print runs and are traded among similarly passionate fans. I appeared in #3, lampooning the pompous aggression of modern goal celebrations with the trademark wit that has scored me more stunning women than I can possibly keep count of.
A great place for Chris Morris/Armando Iannucci-style spoofery and satire. Dry as a bone enough to wet your whistle. Check out my interview with Barry Plapp, and find out why he’s paid by Brian Clough’s widow to make up stories about her late husband.
Curators of football artefacts of yore, yesteryore and beyore-nd. I found a dusty copy of Match magazine from August 30th 1997, reeking of the hormones and crippling pubescent anxieties that made my youth so much fun. The cover features a cherubic Ryan Giggs, some 15 years before his stunning reinvention as a pilates-fuelled sex maniac.
Nothing to do with football, but the Book Drum project compiles detailed profiles of some of the greatest novels ever written, read, or held pensively by people trying to look smart. Many years ago I waffled on extensively about Infinite Jest by David Foster Wallace, which probably makes me some sort of prick or something. Take a look, you scum.