A White load of shouty bol­locks!

Midweek Sport - - TV GUIDE -

AN­OTHER trans­fer win­dow closes and a new star is born. A player? A man­ager? No, a long-headed Scot who looks like he’s got a lit rocket per­ma­nently stuck up his arse.

When the na­tion makes a star out of a fella for shout­ing at a Sky Sports News auto-cue, then it re­ally is time to col­lec­tively go into a dark room and give our heads a wob­ble.

I re­fer, of course, to Jim White. Or should that be JIM WHITE!!!

You see, Jim doesn’t do quiet, he only speaks shouty bol­locks. Shouty bol­locks with shit loads of ex­cla­ma­tion marks.

And such is the reach of Jim’s shouty bol­locks that trans­fer dead­line day has been chris­tened ‘Jim White day’. How sad is that? Watch­ing the grey-haired king of cheese try­ing to make a re­serve team player’s move to QPR on loan sound like the day David Beck­ham left Old Traf­ford is a kind of en­ter­tain­ment.

But sit­ting on your hand un­til it goes numb and bash­ing one out with it while pre­tend­ing it’s some­one else is a kind of en­ter­tain­ment.

Then there’s White’s ob­ses­sive check­ing of his phone and the point­less chats with men out­side empty foot­ball club car parks with feral scal­lies in the back­ground flick­ing the bird while wear­ing traf­fic cones on their head.

And, my favourite, the ‘ex­perts’ who fill time be­tween a washedup crock sign­ing for a rel­e­ga­tion can­di­date and David Moyes’ pal­pi­ta­tions as he re­alises a big club is cherry-pick­ing one of his star play­ers. Again. he highlight of the shite spouted came from ex-player, turned man­ager, turned TV pun­dit Iain Dowie.

Dis­cussing Owen Har­g­reaves’ move to Manch­ester City, the man who looks like Darth Vader mi­nus the hel­met con­jured up this clas­sic: “Owen Har­g­reaves was

Tar­guably Eng­land’s best player at the World Cup, without a doubt.” Which is it, Iain? Back to White. That he will be over-dra­matic to the point of in­duc­ing vomit is a given – it’s as nailed on as Harry Red­knapp low­er­ing the win­dow on his car when he’s within a two-mile ra­dius of a cam­era. “Triffic, triffic.”

But why is this no-mark (White, not Red­knapp) been so read­ily taken into the bo­som of the na­tion as some kind of cult hero?

Is it a sim­ple spell­ing mis­take? I mean, change a let­ter and lose the hero bit and you’ve hit the nail on the head.

He was so hyped up by his own hype when he took the mic for the fi­nal three hours of the win­dow, he could barely speak.

What was he do­ing be­fore­hand? Run­ning up the town hall steps to the Rocky theme? Beat­ing a piece of meat in some dingy fac­tory (take that any way you want, the point stands)? ad­dest of all, Sky ac­tu­ally an­nounced his ar­rival at the stu­dios.

Yes, that’s a Sky Sports News pre­sen­ter ar­riv­ing at Sky Sports News to present Sky Sports News.

Is foot­ball now so devoid of per­son­al­ity that we have to search it out among telly pre­sen­ters?

It’s just an­other sign that the game has lost touch with the fans. The clos­est thou­sands of priced-out sup­port­ers get to a match these days is the ver­bal di­ar­rhoea pour­ing from Paul Mer­son’s mouth: “He’s hit the beans on toast, Jeff.”

Once upon a time, there was no need for Sky’s Soc­cer Satur­day – the ra­dio and the vide­printer did just fine if you weren’t at the match it­self. But now footie on the telly is a bil­lion pound busi­ness and only the mid­dle class can af­ford to go to games week in, week out.

So the 24 hour ‘rolling’ news, shouty bol­locks and Jim White? It’s just go­ing to get worse…

Un­be­liev­able, Jeff.


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