Michael Carrick: The best paid janitor in the world

Michael Carrick is pretty forgettable.

He’s not a midfielder that will dribble past eight players, deftly place his shot into the top corner, perform Robbie Keane’s infamous celebration and then scream “Fuck you Robbie Keane, this is my celebration now”. Though if he was to do that Robbie Keane would be totally cool with it, he’s supported Carrick since he was a boy.

Neither is Carrick a midfielder who will pick up the ball 50 yards from goal and twat it as hard as he can, basking in glory when he breaks every single bone in the goalkeepers hands.

In fact, I can’t remember Carrick even taking a free kick. He just sits in the middle, mopping up any poo/sick/jizz and doing all the boring things that allow other players to be reckless and exciting. As such he is constantly portrayed as a massively underrated player, his custodial skills unappreciated by the vast majority of fans.

This might lead you to the logical conclusion that Michael Carrick is a pretty cool guy; devoid of ego, ready to just do his job and do it well.

This would be wrong, Michael Carrick is a total dick.

He ruled himself out of England contention, the supposed highest honour in football, because he didn’t feel he was getting a big enough role. Lampard then pulls out in the eleventh hour with a severe case of obesity, after Gareth Barry has already pulled out due to an injury completely unrelated to Lampard’s tragic Prader-Willi syndrome.

These two injuries put Carrick in such high demand that if this was an episode of Scooby Doo he would have shot to the number one spot on my list of suspects. Like in every single Scooby Doo ever made, he would have gotten away with it… Except in Carrick’s case there are no pesky kids foiling his diabolical plans, just a slight sense of unease. He would have gotten away with it, if he hadn’t felt slightly awkward joining the England squad a bit late.

This leaves England pretty fucked. Now there’s nobody to look after Gerrard, the football equivalent of a sex pest in a brothel. England have gone from a pretty solid midfield of Barry-Big Frank-Gerrard, to one that might have to contain Jordan Henderson and Phil Jagielka.

As a Scotland fan, I’m fine with this. There’s something about the England national team that makes me want to punch myself in the penis. No matter how likeable a player is prior to wearing those three cunting lions, they always have a touch of the John Terry’s about them when they slip on an England top.

England fans however, should definitely be pissed. Opting out of a major tournament due to a slightly bruised ego is, in my opinion, unforgivable.

So next time you’re watching Man United and thinking “is Michael Carrick playing?”. Instead think “I hope Michael Carrick isn’t playing, because he is a wanker”

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