In the run up to Bolton vs. Manchester United last weekend the talent free “striker” Kevin Davies warned Phil Jones (the reincarnation of Jesus) that he was “Looking to give him a going-over. There will be a few crosses flying in.” The goal shy “striker” can only have meant that he was looking to get himself some elbow action because his career stats prove that the crosses “flying in” don’t make a blind bit of fucking difference to his end result. The “striker” has troubled the scoreboard 62 times in the previous eight Premier League seasons, during the same period he has troubled the referees’ back pocket on 67 occasions. Draw your own conclusion on what he is better at, being a dirty twat or putting the ball in the net. Dwelling on his sheer carthorseness I decided that he really is an irredeemable cunt. There is nothing about him that can deflect your realisation that he is a bluffer, a player that has taken his money over the years and contributed nothing to the club, the Premier League or his country apart from clubbing defenders and being woefully inadequate at doing what he is employed to do — score goals. He can look back on his “career” when he is finally put out to pasture and reflect on a 2003 FA Cup runners-up medal (that he didn’t earn and was presented for his contribution en route to the Final), League Cup runners-up medal, a FA Premier League Asia Trophy and a Peace Cup runners-up medal. He made his debut for England at the age of 33 as a second half substitute and ended the game on a yellow card. He was only in the squad because Andy Carroll was blind drunk and kicking the shit out of one of the mascots, Emile Heskey was filling in for the dead chuckle brother and Darren Bent was at his weekly finishing training with Sandra Redknapp. So Davies has added nothing positive to the game of football since he “set the Premier League alight” with Southampton, earning himself a £7.5m move to Blackburn Rovers in 1998. He helped Rovers get relegated playing with the finesse and guile of a female Russian shot putter, scoring only one league goal all season. That summer Blackburn sent him back from whence he came in a swap deal with Egil Ostenstad. At that point he probably should have retired from football; the only way to compare that in modern day terms is if Red Bull swapped Sebastian Vettel for an acutely asthmatic kitten named Gerald. Then, after displaying all the footballing ability of a boil in the bag cheese sandwich he was released and subsequently snapped up by Big Sam at Bolton, a man renowned for plucking prodigiously talented ball wizards from the ether.
But Davies is not alone in being an irredeemable cunt and his behaviour inspired me to seek out some more of his kind. I wanted to include some of my favourites such as Kettleneck, Adebaywhore, Ribery, Carragher, Keown, Terry, Lumparse and Cashley Hole but — and this next bit has made me spew twice and stick drawing pins in my eyes — they all have a legacy of some kind. They have either won trophies, contributed to their clubs in a positive way or changed the legal rights of kettle scold victims in Argentina. So I was forced to look (or just ask Twitter) for the players that have achieved nothing, apart from universal hatred and loathing during their careers, and here they are, the truly Irredeemable Cunts;
VINCENT PETER JONES
Jones famously started his career at Wealdstone (which was perhaps above his ability to begin with) and plied his trade as a Hod carrier. For those of you that don’t recognise this profession it basically means that he carried Glenn Hoddle around on his back while Chris Waddle touched himself inappropriately. In 1986, Wimbledon purchased him for £10,000 and to this day Deloitte and Touche rank that as the best piece of business by a selling club in the history of football. Although he won the FA Cup I have discounted this because he is such a massive minge. He left to play for Leeds, further endearing himself to me, but was ousted from the team by David Batty. Essentially like swapping a turd for a pile of shit. He eventually ended up back at Wimbledon after “playing” for Sheffield United and Chelsea — where he would fit in just nicely these days — and finished off with a brief spell as a player-coach at Queens Park Rangers. God himself can only imagine what the fuck he was coaching them in? “Alrighty boys, meet Vinnie, he is going to be the shit haircuts and bad acting coach.” The funniest passage of his career was when he decided he should play international football and began to search for a country that he could tenuously link himself to. After finding that there was no “Isle of Cuntfeatures” he chose Ireland, even being pictured in a shirt. Then he discovered his maternal grandmother had once been on a coach trip over the horseshoe pass and donned the red shirt instead, even being made captain by Bobby Gould. Incredibly he represented Wales 9 times, the greatest comment printed on this debacle came from Jimmy Greaves, although he was hammered when he said it, “Stone me, we’ve had cocaine, bribery and Arsenal scoring two goals at home. But just when you thought there were truly no surprises left in football, Vinnie Jones turns out to be an international player.”
ROBERT WILLIAM SAVAGE
It is almost unbearable to say this, and for the second time already in this article I am spewing violently, but Robbie Savage started out as a trainee at United, even being part of the Class of 92 squad. Luckily Gary Neville realised that he was a wanker and he got his dad Neville Neville Neville Neville to put him in the back of their Reliant Robin and release him blindfolded in only his bra and thong on the platform at Crewe station. He was “picked up” by a blind drunk Dario Gradi who offered him a tenner for a topless hand shandy before realising his mistake. Savage then “helped” Crewe to get promoted before handing in a transfer request to Gradi. Dario counts the £400,000 sale to Leicester as the best piece of business he has ever done, even better than when managed to convince Norwich that a selection of spare but damaged body parts was actually a striker named Dean Ashton. In 1999, Savage theatrically fell to the floor after Justin Edinburgh struck out at him, an act that he repeated several times throughout his career despite portraying himself to be a “hard man”. Savage then went to Birmingham but after a couple of seasons could no longer bear to be so far from his poorly parents so he begged the club to let him leave. He was sold to Blackburn, much to the disgust of all 378 Rovers fans. I never like to play the pedant but Birmingham is 70.5 miles from Wrexham, while Blackburn is 72.4. After boring the Rovers fans with his lack of pace, touch, aerial ability and strength on the ball he was sold to Derby for a reported fee of £1.5m, although in truth it was actually nearer to £135. Savage wanted the n0.8 shirt but it was already occupied so instead he took 45 as the two numbers add up to 8. The only highlight of his career at Derby was apparently trying to fix up a move to Leicester, when the Derby board were informed of his skulduggery they were so pleased they offered to continue to pay 90% of his wages juts to be rid of him but Leicester said no, they already had a couple of tumble dryers that could have done a similar job in the middle of the park. So he won the playoffs with Crewe, the League Cup in 2000 (while it was still a slightly less popular trophy than the “World Syphilis Sufferers Knockout Cup”) and was a runner up in 1999. He was hated by anyone who has ever seen him play and for a brief period was the most booked player in history before being overtaken by…
LEE DAVID BOWYER
The insipid product of a drunken midnight tryst between a low-class scrag end from London and a bilingual ferret from Bordeaux, Lee Bowyer has constantly managed to extract unprecedented levels of hate from the footballing word. Bowyer first shot to the front pages of the tabloids when he failed a drugs test, Cannabis being his narcotic of choice, and was banned for eight weeks. Of course had he been an employee of Manchester United he would have been coated in lube and inserted into an elephant’s anus, as well as being banned for 11 years and having both of the limbs on the right side of his body removed by a backstreet Kurdish “surgeon”. Bowyer was purchased by Leeds for £2.8m which obviously escalated him up the wanker charts, but was subsequently kept out of the team by Alfie Inge Halfleg. If that had happened to me I would have given up football instantly and probably gone into fruit picking instead. During his time at Leeds he was accused of a violent racist attack, sadly he got away with it and even more sadly no-one ever initiated a revenge attack. I remember hoping at the time that perhaps it would have been fun to test biological warfare on the rodent-like miscreant. In 2003, Bowyer moved to West Ham, which of course increased the hate, if that was possible. Amazingly even the West Ham fans didn’t want him and there were smiles all over their boats when the shop front left, they were literally running up and down the apples and pears with glee. Off to Newcastle next where the highlight was an on pitch punch up with Kieran Dyer. Bad enough fighting with a team mate, but a disabled one at that? Disgusting. Once the Geordies realised just what a pisswhistler he was they sent him back from whence he came to the Hammers. While at Birmingham he seemed to be in the right place, a team with little ambition, guile or skill that just liked to kick people and bore their own fans, a marriage made in heaven. He did win the League Cup with Birmingham but it doesn’t count because he is an anus troubler. A nasty vindictive shitbox that somehow managed to trick himself a living as a footballer despite having no talent at all. If there is any justice in the world he will become the first human carrier of Eye Melting Syndrome.
So there is a snapshot of the most irredeemable cunts that have played during my lifetime, why not suggest some of your own in the comments section and tell us why they annoy you so very much.