More on this tomorrow, when I have penned my essay, ‘Vincent Pericard, One of the World’s Great Impostors and Con Men.’ No doubt it states on Vincent’s passport that his occupation is a striker. Jack, my nephew Joey, and my sister’s partner Jonny came to Hartlepool today. I could not secure 4 tickets in with our lot, so I was in the small main stand with the home fans, who were doing my job for me (‘Is that the best you can do Pulis, man!?’), which gave me the opportunity to observe Vincent at work from a very close and ideal vantage point. He never looks for the ball, he never calls for the ball, he does not want the ball, but equally, he never moves to take a marker away from him in order that someone more competent (eg. my Granny, deceased) can get on with things instead. He appears incapable of running, choosing instead to stroll everywhere he goes (not very far, in any direction, and certainly nowhere near the opponent’s goal, in case he gets lost). He is a good 6 ft plus, but he never wins a header because it is against his religion to leave planet Earth. A dwarf, or my Granny, deceased, could defend against him. He is an insult to the colloquial term ‘a waste of space.’
It is a ten hour drive from Norwich to Hartlepool and back.
FT: Hartlepool Third Division Micky Mouse Rubbish 2, Stoke City ‘Clueless Pulis Sir Vincent of Pericard All Stars’ 0