I'm Bert Tiddle and you've never heard of me. I nearly came out of retirement to play for Arsenal in 1998 but Martin Keown said he would refuse to play with me since he heard about the time I spent an entire season at Ipswich Town riding my teammates like polo horses during matches. Martin Keown is a numpty.
The Olympics are finally over, which means everyone can stop being so happy all the time and get back to yelling at each other about football. There are still the Paralympics and I assume I would've been asked to captain Team GB there on account of the tragic vending machine accident that cost me my big toe and ended my playing career on the 25th of May, 1992. As well as the other, less tragic vending machine accident on the 17th of October, 1993 that cost me the top part of my index finger but led to a court case that made me my fortune. But I said, "Not having it, love. Whether it's the "O" or "Para" no one cares about any form of 'lympics. If they did, they'd insult the athletes' dead relatives and burn their shirts. That's why I loved being a footballer. Every time the opposing supporters doused my 18 kids in beer I knew they cared." I told this to a lady cab driver and I have no doubt she passed on the message.
Anyway, the new Premier League season is finally here and though the quality of football is obviously inferior since the players now make the kind of money that you used to only be able to get after suing a vending machine firm twice, it's the best we've got so we have to just watch it and complain about it as much as possible.
Now. I hate anyone who predicts things. Weathermen, football pundits, Familyless Frank, who has stood in the park rambling about the Buddha doomsday coming ever since his wife and kids left him -- all raging twunts who should keep their fat gobs shut. That said, here are old Bert's predictions for the new season...
First things first, I know what you're thinking. Mostly because you're a simpleton and I'm smarter than you. You're thinking, "Bert, just tell me the final position of each club and then get to all the other tomtit later because I've got a prostitute arriving any minute now and that's all I need to know." To that I say: "well done" and "get ready to multi-task."
Tiddle note: I'm not revealing the full table because seeing too much of the future means you'll end up back in the 1950s, fighting off your horny mother in car. Trust me. I saw it in a film.
2. Manchester City
After that, I've prepared some categories that hit all the important questions.
First manager sacked: Everyone will say Di Matteo since Chelsea proved that sacking managers will get you a European Cup, but I'll say Sam Allardyce because he still hasn't said sorry for leaving an ungodly stench throughout my house when I was kind enough let him stay over for four weeks before he got the West Ham job. It's like a cross between wet dog and Flatulence, one of my 18 kids. I've already invited Karren Brady over to smell it and as soon as she accepts, you're finished Sam. Then me and Harry Redknapp will email you pictures of Steve Kean all night again.
Player to watch: Gert Sigurosson, Tottenham. Alan Shearer told me he heard about this boy from a kid on the internet. The internet kid also said that Shearer's less useful on television than a jar of paste so he must know what he's talking about.
Who will be racist: All footballers are racist -- I know from experience -- so the question should be "who will be the most racist?" The answer: Manchester United's new boy, Sudsy Kagawa. And as an added twist, he'll be racist towards a department store mannequin.
Leading scorer: Wade Rooney. With Roger van Persie to distract defenders, Wade will run riot like he did when his wife was pregnant. Except this time, he won't get caught by The Sun.
What will make people hate Jim Terry this season: He's not going to do anything wrong all season and that'll make people hate him more than ever. I'm lying -- he'll actually uninvent eyeglasses.
Which referees will make horrific mistakes that will ruin everything: All of them.
And finally, the most important question of all...
Which players will refuse to shake each other's hands: Don't care. The first person who does care when it happens -- and it will happen -- gets slapped with a hepatitis stick.
So that'll be the Premier League season. I'm going to buy a ton of shellfish.