Mon Sep 26 03:00pm EDT
Well hello there.
I see you've caught me watching two of my lesser teammates do what they call "training." Of course, The Berba's training regimen is more focused on sketching unintentional nude models, sampling the world's finest mayonnaises and starting a trend called "Scarlett Johanssoning." But now that the inferior bodies of those who have been playing instead of The Berba are breaking down and thrusting Manchester United's greatest goal scorer back into the starting XI, I must admit that I have considered sampling these other training methods. But then I spotted you, a Berba-babe more beautiful than any other, and my thoughts focused on just one physical activity. And it involves a hot tub full of dairy products. Ha-HA!
Now that The Berba is once again being called upon to be more than just the sensual inspiration for the club and actually play in football matches, I'm quite certain that the ladies will tear off my clothes in the prepared foods section of the super market while shouting, "Berba, your ankles are so much better than that teammate of yours who always talks about horses and how he once played for Real Madrid." ... Why yes, I am the reason customers can't ladle their own soups anymore. Ha-HA!
So as we find ourselves on the precipice of another Berba-plosion of goals and sexual crying, I must ask...do you want to enter a dark room that contains nothing but The Berba, my cousin Timitar Berbatov and several nightvision cameras covered in grease and glitter?
Oh-OHHH! My tiny bib is crushing my chest and preventing me from properly flexing my Berba-bosom. Oh, this is terrible! I feel like I'm being held in a full nelson by a sexy lady police officer, except it's not as enjoyable and it won't lead to pat down. Oh, this must be what people talk about when they say they have hardships in life.
Join us again next time for another chapter in the life of...The Continental...