FOREWARNED, if not forearmed: “one major married United star might need to be trotting off to Court soonish too… it’d be just typical if the lad is unfortunate enough to be the odd one out who doesn’t actually get an injunction granted.”
So I presciently wrote last week, and on Sunday we saw the pay-off, which unfortunately for us has all the signs of becoming a long-running Rixian farce.
(Flush with my soothsaying success, I am looking again into my crystal ball and, yes… “I can make out an image… it’s a slightly chubby, angry Scouse-wife... she has a baby in one arm… and a large rolling-pin at the end of the other… I foresee many nights on the couch, young Wayne, and, possibly, you writing out a cheque for €10million…”
Umm, actually, I suspect we are all able to see this particular vision.
Incidentally, according to the London ‘Times’, Camp Rooney had the misfortune on Saturday night to discover that the duty injunction judge was the man who refused the John Terry request, and they thus threw in the towel. You may recall the Good Old Days when players would worry about how hard or soft a prospective referee might be on the pitch: instead, Ingerlund stars are now more concerned about how card-happy off-pitch judges will be.
Of course, there’s plenty of gallows humour knocking about this week, but I don’t think Coleen would appreciate such reasoning as this from one colleague: “they say he hasn’t learned his lesson from last time. But this one’s 25 years younger, 30 times as expensive, and 40 times as pretty. And no grand kids either. Back of the net!”
As usual in these cases, younger male fans are rather less concerned about it all than the media in general, with the consensus being that only Rooney’s form on the pitch, rather than in the bed, matters.
Nonetheless, there’s obvious concern that a player as notoriously emotional as the Spud Faced Nipper might see his season derailed by this – and worse, that an eventual complete break might be deemed necessary, such as would be doubtless readily proffered by Barcelona et al.
We saw something similar with Ashley Cole, who appeared to be days away from jumping ship to Madrid in order to escape the British maelstrom when Cherylgate was at its height.
Still, thank goodness that Wayne’s next public outing in Red will be at such familiar and welcoming homeland territory as Goodison Park…oh.
You really couldn’t have scripted a more groan-inducing Act 2, could you? Common sense would dictate omitting him from the side – but this is football, so we can’t count on that. There is a precedent, however. Several years ago, United were expecting one of their then first-teamers to be exposed as being an alleged homosexual on the front page of ‘Sunday Express’, on the very morning of a trip to Anfield. You can imagine how that would have played with The Kop. He was left behind in Manchester as a precaution, and in the end the story was killed at the 11th hour. (The player is now abroad, and engaged to a woman, so you can turn off your Gaydar.)
As I write, Ingerlund have not yet kicked off in their midweek match, so only you will know if the prognosis for Rooney’s form is good. The perfect answer would be a fury-driven hat-trick for Rooney on Saturday, followed by the mother of all legal victories for breach of privacy against the News Of The World, and a reunion for the Roo Two before Christmas. But I’m not holding my breath. We often say that one of the joys of being a United fan is the non-stop cabaret offered off the pitch but, at times such as these, you do wonder whether you’d just prefer the quiet life of following someone like Chesterfield FC.
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