Balls and Cheapo have a deep and intimate connection….and by that he doesn’t not mean his own balls. Those useless pieces of crap hanging between his legs have long ago formed an union and stopped working. The family jewels have turned into family raisins.
Cheapo means football.
See, Cheapo has been rejected by all and sundry (except doggies). Sooner or later everybody rejects the Cheapo – its kinda like the national pastime actually. Even Cheapo’s own body parts have joined the exodus so to speak.
So in this whirlwind of rejection, it was extremely satisfying and gratifying for Cheapo to realize that footy still hasn’t.
He is as fat as a hippopotamus and as unfit as Abou Diaby, but hey, his footy skills are still top notch. Despite being the world’s heaviest goalkeeper, channeling Fatty Foulkes, Cheapo played a large and successful part in his team finishing 3rd.
Of course he wasn’t in Buffonesque territory, but he did make quite a few saves, some of them quite good saves also; and he flapped and jumped around the place like a baboon on steroids, with not a single iota of thought about the repercussions on his body.
What’s the most gratifying thing is that his team mates appreciated his efforts…….in this sea of rejection, abuse and criticism, its like a beacon of joy….the Cheapo is not completely and utterly useless. (of course it took a heavy toll on the broken body, but meh, physical pain I can deal with)
The Cheapo abides.