Why female football commentators and murderers are basically the same, by Joey Barton

I have spent my entire adult life in professional football, and if there is one thing my career is littered with, it’s people congratulating me on my excellent use of analogies for things I don’t like.

Some people thought I had peaked a few years ago when I compared my Bristol Rovers team conceding three goals to the Holocaust – but they were wrong.

I have always known that the best way to get your point across in any debate is to use the tragic deaths of innocent people as being analogous to anything you disagree with.

I remember in my academy days, I would regularly complain about having to clean the boots of the senior professionals by likening them to Jack the Ripper. Even though some of them hadn’t even used a prostitute, never mind murdered one – but it got my point across.

Sure, some people will insist it is a bit over-the-top to use literal murderers as a way to criticise someone commentating on a football match, but who else will make that comparison if I don’t? People forget that I am an expert in both football and murderers, what with my brother being one. Yes, he killed someone with an axe, but that doesn’t mean I don’t also understand serial killers, like Fred and Rose West.

What the media needs is a fresh voice willing to mix the sort of jargon you’d hear on a grim true-crime podcast, with in-depth sports-specific references. I am the only one who can provide that voice. Do you want a debatable VAR call to be likened to Jeffrey Dahmer consuming the organs of his victims? Of course you do! Do you want to see a team so adept at killing off a game that they’re likened to Harold Shipman? Of course you do! No woman can do that. Not even the dead-eyed Eni Eluko.

Just like a serial killer lurking in the shadows, these female commentators sneak up on you with their articulate analysis and well-researched points. One minute, you’re enjoying the game; the next, you’re trapped in a meticulous dissection of the relative merits of two opposing defensive strategies. It’s all woke nonsense!

We need a return to the good old days when the only voices you heard were gruff men who once played the game, not these sly sirens with their seductive facts and figures. It’s like inviting Hannibal Lecter to your dinner party – sure, he might know a thing or two about fine Chianti, but at what cost?

These women are not just breaking glass ceilings; they’re shattering our eardrums with their relentless competence. We have to put a stop to it.

Just say NO to women commentating on men’s football, or you’ll be forever thought of as the sort of libtard who insists Pete Sutcliffe was also a good driver.