John Terry has outdone himself, even by his own pathetically low standards. We have a saying in America: three strikes and you’re out. Well, John Terry first shagged teammate Wayne Bridge’s significant other a few years ago. Strike one. This past weekend, he allegedly uttered a racist comment at Anton Ferdinand. Strike two. And strike three, you ask? It takes the cake. It shocks the conscience. After all, his earlier indiscretions have some semblance of an explanation. Everybody can understand that in training, sometimes things get heated and players need to cool off with an other-wife-shag. Everybody can understand that in a game, sometimes things get heated and players exchange racial epithets. That’s just the way things are.
But strike three has no similar excuse. John Terry gave his solemn word to attend a pet shop opening in Surbiton. And what happened in Surbiton? Hundreds of kids had their heart broken. Why? Cold-blooded John Terry didn’t show up.
Take a deep breath and picture all those little eyes, full of tears. Envision little Luke, eagerly getting up and waiting in line all day in the hopes that his purchase of a lizard would be blessed by John Terry. Imagine sprightly Elizabeth, spending all week dreaming of John Terry being present for her first ever Iguana spending spree. But there would be no lizard purchase blessed by John Terry. Elizabeth would get her Iguana a hot rock, but it would somehow seem cold and not plugged in. But that freezing feeling was John Terry’s own heart, not the not plugged in and recently purchased hot rock.
Of course, John Terry has categorically denied any commitment on his part to be in attendance. Newsflash – when you are accused of such a serious offense as failing to attend a pet shop opening, 100% of accused folk deny guilt. Who would want their good name to be stained by such an accusation? Instead, these despicable slums twist the truth and try to tip the scales of justice into a game of he-said and pet shop event coordinator-said. It’s a classic failure-to-attend-petshop-opening defense tactic. Thank you, Johnny Cochran. If the pet shop coordinator event date and your personal calendar don’t fit, you must acquit. Balderdash!
I can just hear the criminal-loving, armchair sociologists regurgitating their “blame the family, not the individual” argument. Yes, John Terry’s parents had some run-ins with the law. Yes, his dad may be a drug-dealer. But even drug-dealers have a shred of honor. If they didn’t, then they’d lose business or probably get killed. Or at least that’s what happened in that Denzel Washington film about the ghetto I once saw. So, conclusively, stop faulting John Terry’s family for his own failings. These pet store attendance issues must be chalked up to Terry and Terry alone.
And I don’t even want to speculate on how his non-appearance has hurt the actual pets themselves. My heart is too weak. Do you know how many baby turtles are born to hideous baby turtle-mills and must either be sold within weeks or sold as food to gourmet restaurants? No. Really. Do you? Because I would like to know. And because John Terry’s non-appearance has probably indirectly led to a decrease in foot traffic and therefore baby turtle sales at this Surbiton store.
And the real victim is little Raphael Donatello Leonardo, the baby turtle who just wanted a loving home, but instead will find himself in a boiling pot of water…
Sleep well tonight, John Terry. Look at the face of the real victims. Do their frigid reptilian eyes mirror your own? MURDERER……..
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