United Road Take Me Home

Some thoughts occasioned by the 'transfer coup of the summer'/'nadir of Fergie's transfer market incompetence' as Michael fuckin' Owen signs on for United:

1) No. No. No. No. No. And so on. Forever.

2) Is it too late to get my season ticket money back?

3) Isn't one Owen in permanent residence at the treatment room enough for any team?

4) Whilst deploring every single one of the bovine, moronic goons who booed Berbatov last season...i will see it as a solemn duty of every red to boo Owen's every touch in a red shirt until the message sinks home that this little tosser has no right to inveigle his way into the rich tapestry of our club's history.

5) £80 million banked for Ronaldo and get in a clapped out, injury-plagued, scouse-to-the-core, mercenary 29 year old on a free to replace him. And can you still say that the Glazer's finances don't have a bearing on transfer policy?

6) No. No. No. No. No.

7) Are our principles and values so amorphous and malleable that their is no indignity or disgrace that we can't square them with? Surely every goal (should their be any; his recent track-record doesn't suggest that an avalanche is imminent) or contribution is tainted and can no longer have any meaning or value. Isn't it?

8) In Fergie we trust. See 7).

9) Am I being ridiculous? Shouldn't we be able to transcend this childish tribalism that mars the game of football? Shouldn't we accept that ultimately even the Scholes's and Rooney's of this world are in it for the money? Or if we accept this, might we as well pack the whole thing in? What's football without that tribalism and that romantic belief that somethings transcend the financial incentive?

10) No. No. No. No. No.