Moyes Beige Cardy hits back in Sunderland preview

Alright the lads

Moyesey’s beige cardy here. Or at least I used to be. But what a shocker. As soon as he got the Man United gig he cast me aside like a kitchen rag that’s begun to smell of wet dog and biscuits. Given the old deep six so yer man there could hob nob in a suit and a brand spanking tracky as his career inevitably crumbled. I’ve had a lot of time to think about the way things went as I hang in this charity shop waiting to be bought for the princely sum of £1.25. But, although my spirit is defeated and tired, and sharpness of mind intermittently forsakes me, I’m not bitter. And as we once again prepare to face our former manager, nor should you be.

The recent history of David Moyes and Everton is kind of a metaphor for my own life. A life that has taught me a lot of valuable lessons that find fewer attentive ears these days – and that I can rarely muster the energy to share. But one last time, my story must be told for this website – before the confusion and delirium envelope me. And as I prepare to recede from public life, who better than I to share my thoughts on Everton’s trip to the north east to face Sunderland – and on a man who spent such a long time at the helm of our great club.

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Like my beloved blues I had a moment in the spotlight. A fleeting moment of incandescence brighter than a million quasars. It was the late 80s and the Seattle grunge scene was exploding onto the psyche of disenfranchised teenagers everywhere. I’d spent nearly a decade being passed among various OAPs in Washington State USA, before being picked up by a man at a rummage sale in Allentown on the outskirts of the state capital. That young man, with bird’s nest hair and a glint of genius in his eyes was none other than Nirvana frontman Kurt Cobain – and what a crazy ride the two of us embarked upon. A ride culminating on 18th November 1993 when we performed together on an edition of MTV Unplugged that went down in history. Sadly, less than 6 months later, he appointed Mike Walker straight into his own mouth and our dream died with him.

A lot of soul searching followed and I fell into a deep melancholy as my life Walter Smithed into obscurity. Sure, there was the odd special moment, like the night I Paul Rideouted Ginger Spice’s Union Jack dress all over the shop in a London hotel room – but the precipitous decline in my fortunes continued unabated. My rock bottom moment came several years later as I found myself reduced to working as the stunt double for Roy Cropper’s going out jumper. Just when things couldn’t get any worse, and as I was scraping Hayley’s crusty semen off my sleeves through the tears for the umpteenth time, my saviour appeared.

She gently dabbed my eyes, helped me polish up my buttons and we talked. Pretty soon we fell in love. She’d done well as Bet Lynch’s leopard skin leotard but we both knew that together we could do better. Soon after we were a team and began to forge a new destiny.

Heady days: Me and Kurt during our famous MTV Unplugged appearance

Many happy years followed and although things weren’t quite as exciting as they’d been in my heyday, life was settled and I can honestly say I was happy.  Sure, we had our ups and downs and the spark slowly and inexorably dimmed as it does in all long relationships. But we had a lot of shared memories and a mutual love and understanding. Until one day when my world caved in. I came home after a few beers with Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen’s shirt to find her sat on her suitcases. Before I could register what was happening she told me she was leaving. She was cold and business like. She told me she was moving in with David Beckham’s man skirt and that was it. No excuses. No apologies. Just the facts. I was numb and for a while I was lost.

Happier times: David and I appear on Skysports together

I’d had no hard feelings after the split and even thought fondly of our time together – but when she came back several weeks later insisting she was taking the CD collection with her I lost the respect I’d held on to.  I must admit to a warm sense of schadenfreude when I heard months later that her new relationship had faltered. Friends tell me she made a fool of herself after that as I kept my council and stoically moved on. After an unsuccessful and forgettable relationship I met a stunning new partner. A partner who had experienced worldwide fame and adulation – whose legend could never be eclipsed by cynical Old Father Time. To be with someone so vibrant and with such an accomplished past reinvigorated me and I went on to have some of the best moments of my life. I realised that my previous relationship had become stale and was holding me back – that I should have been the one to end it before my hand was forced. I realised that I needed someone who was my equal and could make me be the best beige cardigan I could be. I was no longer prepared to settle for second best.

Roughing it:  One of my many appearances on ‘The Street’

Some people still have strong opinions on our former manager and will take pleasure in ridiculing him when we beat Sunderland on Tuesday night. I’m predicting a comfortable 2-0 victory by the way. But, as I hang forlornly in this branch of Oxfam on the dying high street of a provincial northern town, there is one thing I would like to say to you all before I no longer have the strength.

Fellow blues. There is no need for hate or bitterness. There is no need for regret or reproach.  When you fully appreciate that Ronald Koeman is Liz Hurley’s safety pin dress compared to the Bet Lynch’s leopard skin leotard that is David William Moyes, life has a new clarity. There is no need to hunt for revenge or search for closure. Sunderland is just another game. Enjoy it and cheer those lads until you’re hoarse.

COYBB on Monday. As my old dear late friend Kurt would say: ‘He we are now, entertain us’

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