Here’s my beef. Medium to well done. Again, my beef is of the Cristiano Ronaldo variety, procured from Lisbon, Portugal. I have made no secret of my profound and disturbing hatred for this man. It has nothing to do with the fact that he is nearly the best footballer in the world (second only to Steven Gerrard). It also has nothing to do with my undying love for Liverpool Football Club. My beef is his arrogance.
Given, the man has scored some of the greatest goals this decade for which I give him a pat on his oily-ass back. But why oh why in the name of all things bright and beautiful does he have to be so arrogant about it? The way he stands and waits for praise makes me nauseas. Nay it makes me very nauseas. Nay the nausea can be described as fuckoff big. It’s like he thinks he’s the statue of David. Only with a smaller package.
Now the beef has been sent back to the kitchen for the reason that he wrote-off his 200 000 pound (money not weight) Ferrari while calmly driving back from the airport – he probably didn’t even blink one of his druggy eyes. Here’s a quote from a bystander: “Ronaldo was just standing at the side of the road looking forlorn and bewildered.”More like he was standing on the side of the road looking like he was pounded by a 7ft criminal who finds his moderately good looks attractive (even though he bears a scary resemblance to Happy Sindane). What pisses me off is that after his little haplessly drunk ‘accident’ – he’s just going to walk away and buy another without dipping into his piggy bank. Just disgraceful.
But I am happy that he has walked away unscathed. Shame. Poor little pansie has to get a new car. I think he should get a Dihatsu. It suits him. Arrogance in abundance. Good luck to him.