Newcastle United – What Happened To Gary, Alan, Rob & Davey?
Pronunciation. Very important in all walks of life. Why do you say that Chris, I’m a football fan what do I care? Well, I’ll explain then. New signings with long surnames. They’re a bugger aren’t they? I, like many others I’d wager, like to appear well informed and knowledgeable about current events at St James’ Park (welcome back SJP….BTW) and enjoy nothing better than dazzling my acquaintances with my effortless skills of recollection, my encyclopaedic memory and ….err…what was I going on about again, oh aye, the power of recall. As I prepare to enter my late twenties – very late some might say given that I’ll be 48 next week – the old grey cells are disappearing faster than serviceable strikers from the SoS.
Anyway, only a madman would argue that Graham Carr hasn’t performed miracles in the cause of the new Geordie revolution over the past couple of years, however his penchant pour les players continental – merde, he’s got me at it now – means that we are no longer signing the Garys, Alans, Robs and Daveys of the footballing world. Hence, getting to know the names of new foreign Johnny signings inevitably takes a little more work.
Take our two most recent acquisitions for instance. Setting aside the obvious fact that Gail (or Gael) is a ladies’ name and would ordinarily have no place in the muddy, snotty world of professional football – as I delight in shouting at that little tart Clichy every time he plays up here – Bigirimana (who was born in the wonderful sounding city of Bujumbura in Burundi) is a bit of a challenge for those of us from Bensham and Benwell. Fear not though boys and girls, because, just for you, I’ve come up with a clever little aide memoire to help you become familiar with his moniker before he becomes a household name.
Firstly, imagine you have a girlfriend called…Ramana (howay, I didn’t say this was perfect). Now imagine that she’s not altogether happy with her allotted apportionment in the upper body area and goes off and has a breast enhancement procedure behind your back – not behind her back obviously, that would be just wrong. She then asks the age old tester, “Notice anything different about me”, to which you, no doubt daydreaming about who will play in our Europa league midfield for the forthcoming season, don’t even have to break stride in that pattern of thought, simply respond, “Wow, they’re bigger-Ramana”…..Bigiramana, did you see what I did there? OK, it may be sexist, misogynist, borderline racist and downright smutty but I bet you can remember his name now eh? Always thinking. Loic Remy would be a doddle if his services were secured thankfully.
Romain Amalfitano is no picnic either. Fortunately, I can help you out with that one too and this time I’m talking directly from experience. In fact, I might even have said his name out loud in the past without either of us even knowing. You know that feeling you get when you wake up in the morning feeling like Brad Pitt, the pint sized Hollywood muscle freak. You leap ecstatically out of bed but catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and realise that you look more like Richie Pitt and you’re not the Adonis you imagined yourself to be. There are any number of ways you might react to this and an infinite number of things you might say at that point. However, one of the things you could well say would be…wait for it, I’m stretching it here (no, not that, that would be disgusting)….“Wahey… Ahm Aal Fit…….Arr No!”. Job done. Thank you for listening.
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