Liverpool
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WashYourHands
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IdleRich
IdleRich
I know nothing about Liverpool, I have never been there and quite possibly I never will. I do remember this joke however which I was told many years ago and which I suppose relates to the character of the city. On the surface it is a football joke but don't worry Americans and Arsenal fans, you don't need to know about football to follow it.
OK, the joke is set in Iraq in the aftermath of the war, during the bloody and violent occupation.... a rumour reaches Liverpool that amongst the blood and sand, the oil and the weapons of mass destruction (only joking with that last one don't worry) there are games of football. Kids whose love for the beautiful game cannot be crushed, playing with bare feet on the sand, dodging the landmines and the flying bullets... and, in these games, amongst these players, there is one particular player of prodigous, phenomenal... almost supernatural ability.
They have to move fast and take risks that other clubs are not prepared to do but they have a scout there as soon as is humanly possible and the second he touches down he searches out these games and he quickly identifies the target. He's never seen anything like this guy, he recalls stories of the young Maradona where the coach of Santos (or something) thought he had to be a midget in disguise as there was simply no way a child could be that good. This scout is seriously excited, has he found the new Maradona?
So, long story short, they sign the kid and bring him to England. At sixteen he is easily good enough to train with the first team and one week later when the next game comes around the manager (who was it then, Houllier?) decides to stick him on the bench. He is untried sure, he is raw and he is small, but his talent his magic, as a sub he might catch some people out.
And indeed he does, cos at half-time they are getting dicked on, three nil down to Everton believe it or not and the crowd is booing, angry, crying for blood and Houlier thiniks "fuck it, got nothing to lose, let's see if this kid can bring his magic from the sand to the grass" - and wouldn't you just know it, it turns out he can. The kid really is a genius, he scores four fucking goals on his premiership debut, something that has never happened before and will probably never happen again. He runs through the defence to score a wondrous solo goal, his touch is sublime, he makes the ball do things that the spectators never thought possible. At the end of the 4-3 win he is carried from the pitch on the shoulders of his team mates, both sets of supporters understand that they have seen something special and give him a standing ovation... and young Mustafa himself is truly overcome with emotion.
Finally he slips away from the tv cameras, from his teammates, the fans etc etc and manages to phone his mother. Unable to keep the pride out of his voice he explains what has happened and how everyone loves him, but, as mothers do, she brings him back down to earth with a bump "You only ever think of yourself" she berates him "Since you left our life has become a nightmare and the family has fallen apart. Your eldest sister has been sold into prostitution, your father was killed in a knife fight, one of your brothers has joined a gang selling heroin and another brother was blown up by a landmine. The Iman is trying to convince another one of your brothers to become a martyr and I may well just join him as liife is so dark and depressing there is nothing to live for.... and this, all of this, every last bit of it, is your fault!"
And Mustafa is like "What the fuck, how is this my fault?" and his mum says "Cos, if it wasn't for you, we never would have moved to Liverpool".
OK, the joke is set in Iraq in the aftermath of the war, during the bloody and violent occupation.... a rumour reaches Liverpool that amongst the blood and sand, the oil and the weapons of mass destruction (only joking with that last one don't worry) there are games of football. Kids whose love for the beautiful game cannot be crushed, playing with bare feet on the sand, dodging the landmines and the flying bullets... and, in these games, amongst these players, there is one particular player of prodigous, phenomenal... almost supernatural ability.
They have to move fast and take risks that other clubs are not prepared to do but they have a scout there as soon as is humanly possible and the second he touches down he searches out these games and he quickly identifies the target. He's never seen anything like this guy, he recalls stories of the young Maradona where the coach of Santos (or something) thought he had to be a midget in disguise as there was simply no way a child could be that good. This scout is seriously excited, has he found the new Maradona?
So, long story short, they sign the kid and bring him to England. At sixteen he is easily good enough to train with the first team and one week later when the next game comes around the manager (who was it then, Houllier?) decides to stick him on the bench. He is untried sure, he is raw and he is small, but his talent his magic, as a sub he might catch some people out.
And indeed he does, cos at half-time they are getting dicked on, three nil down to Everton believe it or not and the crowd is booing, angry, crying for blood and Houlier thiniks "fuck it, got nothing to lose, let's see if this kid can bring his magic from the sand to the grass" - and wouldn't you just know it, it turns out he can. The kid really is a genius, he scores four fucking goals on his premiership debut, something that has never happened before and will probably never happen again. He runs through the defence to score a wondrous solo goal, his touch is sublime, he makes the ball do things that the spectators never thought possible. At the end of the 4-3 win he is carried from the pitch on the shoulders of his team mates, both sets of supporters understand that they have seen something special and give him a standing ovation... and young Mustafa himself is truly overcome with emotion.
Finally he slips away from the tv cameras, from his teammates, the fans etc etc and manages to phone his mother. Unable to keep the pride out of his voice he explains what has happened and how everyone loves him, but, as mothers do, she brings him back down to earth with a bump "You only ever think of yourself" she berates him "Since you left our life has become a nightmare and the family has fallen apart. Your eldest sister has been sold into prostitution, your father was killed in a knife fight, one of your brothers has joined a gang selling heroin and another brother was blown up by a landmine. The Iman is trying to convince another one of your brothers to become a martyr and I may well just join him as liife is so dark and depressing there is nothing to live for.... and this, all of this, every last bit of it, is your fault!"
And Mustafa is like "What the fuck, how is this my fault?" and his mum says "Cos, if it wasn't for you, we never would have moved to Liverpool".
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wild greens
Well-known member
Mad film from early 2000s. it was ruthless then
william_kent
Well-known member
IdleRich
IdleRich
Is that film any good? I just flkicked through a couple of scenes and it looked as thought it had potential. Those raw gritty scenes could be part of a good film at least, though that kind of "needle dropping" approach is never gonna tell me anything about the plot etc of course.
wild greens
Well-known member
I think it is. It was semi-improvised and spawned from a documentary that the director was making about the drug wars playing out through doormen and the coke/mdma market in town and the clubs
Basically he found that no-one was willing to talk really so they made a film to tell the story instead. Very few professionals in it if any