Dimitar Berbatov is…The Continental

Brooks Peck
Dirty Tackle

Well hello there.

I see you've caught me letting my manager/life coach Martin Jol squeeze my mayonnaise-filled glove. As you can tell by his squeal of delight, he is enjoying this experience a great deal. I've already decided that you may be the next to touch it -- and many other things -- since I am in a joyous mood. So joyous, in fact, that I'm not even bothered by the fact that you are laughing at my generous and sensual offer. Ha-HA!

Erotic animal masks for everyone, I say. Because this is already proving to be the season of The Berba. ... Yes, I do know of an actual place to buy erotic animal masks -- my home, where my cousin Timitar Berbatov makes them out of actual animal faces and scavenged hair. Anyway, that is not the point of my proclamation of vigor.

The Berba has already scored five times on the pitch this season and many more off it with Berba-beauties you do not know because I met them in whatever part of the world you are not from. Though I am confident enough that I do not need to compare myself to others, I will say that my five goals and countless amorous conquests puts me ahead of all of my teammates at the prestigious Michael Jackson Football Club. It also puts me ahead of Wayne Rooney and Chicharito aka Little Berba at my former club, where I was deemed too erogenous for old Alex Ferguson to handle. Does he now regret letting me go before allowing me to reveal every move in the Berba Sutra? Based on nothing other than my own daydreams, I do believe he does. Ha-HA!

Oh-OHHH! Martin Jol just removed my mayonnaise-filled glove and ate it. Oh, this is a terrible betrayal between life coacher and life coachee. Thankfully, after watching him swallow a hanging fern earlier in the week I know he will eventually regurgitate and then it will be yours to touch.

Join us again next time for another chapter in the life of...The Continental...

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