He Drinks, He Drives, He Spits in People’s Eyes

In case you haven’t noticed, things aren’t going so well up in Sunderland at the moment. Despite recording their first victory over bitter local rivals Newcastle in many decades a couple of weekends ago, they have since been humbled by Stoke, and been truly humiliated by an irresistible Chelsea performance that even saw Nicolas Anelka bag a hat-trick. Now Roy Keane isn’t the happiest of men generally, but I imagine this is going to tread on his dick even more.

You see, full-time supreme spitter (and part-time striker) El-Hadji Diouf was snapped necking champagne in a trendy bar just hours before his team were thumped by Chelsea. The photo here shows the sweaty star clutching £300-a-bottle Cristal alongside a DJing pal late last Thursday night, less than 48 hours before he came on as a substitute at Stamford Bridge. The Senegalese forward was allegedly partying with fellow Black Cats stars Pascal Chimbonda and Djibril Cisseat Newcastle’s Living Room bar, celebrating the birthday of Newcastle striker Obafemi Martins, who himself managed quite a tasty little performance last night against Aston Villa.

Fans were apparently “shocked” as they watched Diouf drink bubbly and party into the early hours. One wasted onlooker offered this concise summation: “Diouf’s top was drenched in sweat and he was hugging the DJ. At one point he even started rapping in African as he held a bottle of Cristal in one hand.” I don’t know about you, but that sounds like literally the most entertaining sight I can conceive of! The reliable source continued: “He was with two other Sunderland players, but they didn’t seem to be drinking. They were watching in the corner but Diouf was having a ball. We had no idea that he was meant to be playing against Chelsea.”

A source at the club said: “The manager has not seen the picture yet but is aware that some players were out on Thursday night. It doesn’t look good, especially when they then lose so heavily on Saturday. Fans that travel hundreds of miles to watch the team away from home don’t expect to see players partying less than 48 hours before games. I’m sure Roy will take action over the next couple of days.” For a man who transfer-lists players for just being late to training, this kind of behaviour is surely tempting fate? Surely having Saturday, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday nights all free to go out and get wasted is enough?? I mean, it’s not like Diouf is any good or anything, but come on!

Giving Alcoholism the Red Card

While the Premiership's stars are sunning themselves on beaches and messing about with their WAGs, players in Belarus are getting on with their 2008 season. Amusingly named BATE are the current masters of the league with 34 points, but this vodka soaked referee is grabbing all the headlines in the former Soviet state:

Rio In Da Club

Fresh from mercing the Premier League for a second consecutive year, Rio Ferdinand was understandably in the mood for partying last night, and was so excited about Manchester United’s official end-of-season party that he forgot to bring any photo ID. As any good bouncer will tell you, that is just not on, and despite being dressed in United colours with a winners medal actually hanging around his neck, he was refused entry while his identity was confirmed. Now as we told you a little while ago, there is a burgeoning imposter scene developing within this country, with Mission: Impossible-esque face/body/voice transformations no longer reserved only for the world of science-fiction. The bouncer at Manchester’s cleverly ‘MANCH235TER’ 235 Casino was therefore totally justified in stalling the so-called United defender, as it could’ve just been anyone turning up with Rio’s face, clothes, medal and girlfriend.

Thankfully confirmation arrived in the form of a grainy passport scan through the casino’s fax machine, so the mix-up was sorted, and Rio was then able to successfully get down with his bad self. A mysterious source lucidly told The Sun: “It was totally ridiculous. The doorman demanded that Rio produce ID even though everyone knew who he was. You could tell that Rio was desperate to join his teammates in the party, however he waited patiently for the mix-up to be sorted out.” With his trademark gun hands cocked for action, Rio was ready to “blap up dis foolz manor,” however arm-candy Rebecca Ellison talked him down with promises of milk and cookies when they got home. Reportedly this was the only real incident of the night as, for the first time in recorded history, Manchester United and their WAGs managed to have a night out with less than five people getting raped. Huzzah!

Party On

With the curtain finally falling on yet another Premier League season, it is well and truly party time for those hard-working players who must now suffer through ten weeks of holiday trying as hard as possible to spend their millions. Unburdened by the inconvenience of a summer international tournament, England’s nearly-men wanted to set the tone of the coming months early, and hit newest London hot-spot Movida last night for champagne-covered merriment and presumably their first kebab since August 2007. Now Movida is, like, so the new Chinawhite don’t you know, but located just behind Oxford Circus tube, isn’t quite secluded enough to keep out all the riff-raff. A quick google search of a London nightlife guide brought this comment: “(it) is not the place to relax, it is a place for nouveau rich, for people no class and bad attitude.” So it’s basically perfect then.

Anyway, of course all the coolest cats were down there, with STT favourite Jermain Defoe leading the pride and copping off with some absolute hound that presumably just agreed to whatever niche role-play Jermain was in the mood for this week. According to onlookers their eyes met across an empty dancefloor, and as the strains of R. Kelly’s definitely-not-paedophilic anthem Trapped in the Closet oozed out of the speakers, she went weak at the knees. In a downward spiral that has seen him go from Charlotte Mears to Danielle Lloyd, and then way down to Sarah Giggle, Defoe seems incapable of attracting anything but ropey mouth-breathers these days. Still, one imagines the routine back at his tastefully decorated bachelor pad was the same as usual; nose-bleedingly fast garage on the stereo, all the mirrors in the house set up around the bed, couple of bottles of Lambrini, and then just as she’s starting to convulse from the cheap booze and bpm of the music, he strips down to just a leopard-skin vest and jumps her bones while panting like an over-excited puppy.

Elsewhere in Movida, Jermaine Jenas had apparently just finished shooting a Wham! reunion video, sharply dressed in a jacket that 1980s tennis players would be embarrassed by, and topped with the standard sunglasses-at-night look which only really works if you’re Johnny Depp or have had your eyeballs carved out by Triads. Anton Ferdinand was also up in effect at Movida, looking almost as handsome as his brother for once; don’t tell Rio I said that though, he prides himself on being the hottest Ferdinand. Anton reportedly spent the whole night staring at girls’ cans until they left the club out of fear, and telling anyone who’d listen that he could’ve been a superstar DJ, but was begged by the football gods to not waste his prodigious gift.

The real highlight of the evening though was the appearance of a certain ex-Big Brother contestant with a mouth like a waste disposal unit, Charley something-or-other. She’s the cousin of Kieran Richardson (that’s pedigree for you) and shot to fame last year for simply being the most irritating and objectionable excuse for a woman that most of us on this fine isle have ever had to endure. How do these girls actually find out where the footballers will be on any given night? Is there a bat-symbol or something that goes up over London that only kiss-and-tell sluts can see? Having failed to make a sex-tape with a footballer to kick-start an ‘acting’ or ‘modeling’ career for herself though, it seems Charley has just resorted to prostitution, hanging about outside Movida with her skirt up in the hope that someone famous might get drunk enough to fall in her. At least she’s realized her natural position in life, but come on love, have a little shame. STT is considering broadening its horizons over the summer to get into pimping, so if you’re reading Charley (unlikely I know) and want to be our first official ‘ho,’ drop us a line at the usual address and we’ll talk about a business plan. You’ll get a nice basement to sleep in, plenty of pretty new clothes and enough meth to sink Britney Spears.

UPDATE - Thanks to the wonderful hombres at The Spoiler for not kicking our teeth in after robbing their pics.

DD-List Guests

Despite having some truly unpleasant pricks (not to mention a whole gaggle of brain-donors) in their midst, I’m starting to think that maybe I do really wanna go out on the sauce with Chelsea. Last month, after beating Fenerbahce to set-up the meeting with Liverpool, they invited rent-a-holes Chanelle and Chantelle out with them to celebrate, but this week they decided to just cut out the middle man, so to speak, and partied with porn queen Jenna Jameson. The good news for Jenna fans is that she finally looks healthy again after somewhat of a scare last year that saw her rapidly drop weight and develop a weird droopy face, raising fears that she might have the dreaded bug. Turns out though that all she needed was another good bit of plastic surgery and a couple of Cosmopolitans.

The jubilant players went straight down to Chinawhite after the victory then, with JT, Michael Essien and Soloman Kalou all looking sharp as they got down with other allegedly famous luminaries such as Joe Swash from Eastenders, as well as injured Spurs captain Ledley King. Sorry to shatter many illusions out there, but unfortunately not all porn stars are actually insatiable nymphomaniacs, so presumably once each of the Chelsea stars had had their inevitable crack at the delectable Ms Jameson, they decided to cut their losses, and revert to type by inviting a load of Page-3 tarts along for the celebratory ride too. As such, lads’ mag favourites Emma B and Jay Nicholls were out in force, along with Britain’s Next Top Model contestant Danielle Mason. Now I can only assume the first two put out easily because they both have faces like a box of smashed crabs, but Ms Mason gets a pass for actually being a looker.

As ever though, the girls were left ultimately unfulfilled due to Ashley Cole’s continued absence from night outs, having been kept under lock and key at home with Cheryl and forced to watch Embarrassing Bodies, before going to bed in opposite sides of the house. Despite the magnitude of the Chelsea win, Cole was still banned from partying, so rumour has it that a disappointed Jay Nicholls went home with a bouncer from Yates’, who she insisted was sick on her floor and then fell asleep while still inside her.

Fugu

So Alan Shearer used to famously eat a huge plate of chicken and beans before every professional game he played, and that seemed to do the trick, even inspiring Spurs forward Dimitar Berbatov to copy him. Mido on the other hand has been known to consume a whole KFC family bucket by himself before each of his somewhat underwhelming performances, so I think its safe to say that pre-match ritual certainly can play a part in a striker’s performance. Spare a thought then for Birmingham hitman Mikael Forssell, who, twice a season, has to snub his traditional meal of sushi because the chef of his favourite Japanese restaurant is an Aston Villa fan. He told The Sun today: “I don’t think he’s going to poison me but I might not go this week.”

While STT could throw down a load of boring science mumbo-jumbo about glycogen stores and junk, the most important thing in our mind is to top up on fluids and pack yourself full of easy-to-process basic carbohydrates. In an unpublished study that landed on the editorial desk just this morning, leading experts now agree that statistically the best pre-match meal for you is actually three McDonalds double-cheeseburgers, all put in between one bun to maximise grease and fat levels, while eliminating all that stodgy bread rubbish. Trust us, Kaka’ swears by it and everything.