Woman-basher King will get a 15th chance

MARLON KING will be signed by a football club in the next few weeks and it will spark an outcry.

Any man who raises his hand to a woman is not any kind of man at all.

But a serial-offending thug who leaves a young lady battered and bruised, like poor Emily Carr (right), should be tied down - to enable women who so desire to freely kick the proverbial crap out of him and trample over his body in stiletto heels.

Far more justice than spending nine months at one of Her Majesty’s holiday camps – which nowadays pass as prisons.

However, that aside, some of the hypocrisy doing the rounds in today’s media outlets beggars belief.

His agent Tony Finnigan – one of the most unsavoury football characters I have ever spoken to – was on radio this morning arguing that he “had a duty, rightly or wrongly, to find Marlon work”.

It is his duty? More like, he can smell a quick buck in setting up a deal for the brute. Of course, he has no legal obligation to represent Marlon King.

On talkSPORT radio, they were arguing that King should be banished – never to step foot into professional football again.

A caller rang in and started to make an excellent point: “Marlon King doesn’t deserve another chance – yet you guys work alongside Stan Collym …” He was cut off before he had a chance to finish.

Yes, talkSPORT’s Stan Collymore, who beat up Ulrika Jonsson and got caught dogging at Cannock Chase.

Of course, everyone deserves another chance after making a mistake in life – but how many chances does King get?

If he is not headbutting team-mates, he is stealing, speeding, drink driving, acting fraudulently or beating up women who refuse to have sex with him … just to name a few “mistakes”.

Yet, sadly, there will still be a place in football for this nasty piece of work – and it will be argued that he deserves a 15th chance (following his 14 convictions) and he has served his time.

But, in doing so, it sends out yet another wrong message to young children who look up to footballers as role models. You can be a violent serial offender – and still be welcomed back into football with open arms.

He SHOULD be banned from professional football for life – but in a game where money wins over principles he WON’T.

My ticket not to ride

CHECKING tickets and opening a train platform barrier for cyclists and disabled passengers must be a dull and unrewarding job.

So perhaps one gentleman at London Bridge decided he wanted to liven up his mundane working day when refusing to allow me to pass “his” barrier so I could board my train to Brighton on Saturday evening.

In a bid to save money – and live a healthier lifestyle – I often commute to work in London by train and bicycle.

But sometimes you find yourself in a hurry to catch a train, which happened to me at the weekend.

I had 10 minutes to get from Wapping to London Bridge, which by bicycle is a piece of cake if you are prepared to pedal fast.

When arriving at the station, I legged it across the concourse to the relevant platform, only to get held up while a huge group of people passed through the ticket barrier in the opposite direction.

Patiently I waited but was slightly agitated that the barrier guard was taking an age to open the gate to enable my bicycle and I to pass through to the platform.

The gentleman then gave me a telling off – the type we have all received from our parents or school-teachers in our childhood.

“You really should be patient, sir, and please don’t be in such a hurry,” he told me. “You should not run too.”

His tone was so much like my old school headmistress but I dared to answer back!

“Please don’t lecture me, I’m 33-years-old,” I told the pompous idiot.

“Sir, you will regret saying that to me,” he replied. “I’m not letting you pass MY barrier,” he added, looking proud of himself.

Understandably astonished, I argued: “You can’t stop me boarding the train, simply because I’ve dared to ask you not to lecture me.”

“It’s actually to my discretion who I let through,” he said, “and you’ve been abusive to me.”

So it’s now abusive to tell someone not to lecture you. And that warrants not allowing a passenger to board a train. I was not rude, I was not aggressive, I was not being unreasonable and I certainly was not being abusive.

It worries me that such a person is allowed to make such decisions on behalf of South Eastern Railways – and that, even when challenging a senior member of staff, was simply told: “You can’t be abusive to our staff!” So it was very much that his word was being taken over mine, with no evidence to suggest he was being truthful.

Thankfully, they were not the brightest tools in the box – and I knew of another way to access the platform in question by going through another barrier on the other side of the station.

I was able to board my train with seconds spare … my complaint is in the post.

Rooney's a vuvu-failure

"NICE to see your home fans boo you. That's what loyal support is."

Thanks Wayne ... nice words of wisdom from a £100,000-per-week football star who played like a drain against Algeria.

How about: "Nice to travel thousands of miles, pay several thousand pounds, take unpaid holiday and see your team play like a bunch of c**ts. That's what loyal support is."

Rooney was frustrated, angry and peeved that Algeria made him look like a slow fat beer-belly who would struggle to get into my local pub side, never mind reach a World Cup final.

But this man lives in a different world to the loyal fans who travel around the world and no doubt line his - and other England "superstar's" - pockets.

The England striker could not pass, could not control the ball, was constantly giving away possession, was off the pace and arguably the worst player on the pitch.

Yet in the stands, despite the vuvuzelas making the stadium sound like a mosquito nest, England fans were able to make their voices heard as they belted out God Save The Queen.

In fact, the Three Lions supporters yet again played a blinder. They showed pride and passion in their country - something which did not appear to be the case from our overindulged fat-cat footballers.

Our so-called stars were a bunch of vuvu-failures.

But Rooney is a street footballer, we keep getting reminded. A throwback to a bygone age ... a typical gutsy northern working-class centre forward.

That is one of the biggest myths in English football.

Rooney is worth £30million and lives in a massive commercial bubble. He is a worldwide brand - a million miles away from the likes of Stan Mortensen, the Blackpool and England centre-forward of the late 1940s-early 1950s that his marketing people model him on.

Everything he utters sells.

Whether he is trying to convince hard-pressed parents to buy some footwear for their kids at £280 a pop or telling youngsters that swigging some trendy fizzy drink will turn them into a future Manchester United star.

But what came out of his mouth on Friday night stunk the place out. Just like the obscene message - FCUK U - he scrawled on his golf shoes, which he exposed to photographers the other day.

His advisers have since made him apologise for his rant at fans on live TV. And so they should. Although it is probably more to do with protecting the image of Brand Rooney - rather than anything heartfelt.

It is about time Rooney started showing his anger out on the pitch, terrorise defences like we know he can and help England win this World Cup.

That is how he will show himself as a true great of the game - but sadly at this moment in time Rooney is not showing himself to be a "street footballer", a throwback to Stanley Matthews or Stan Mortensen, but yet another overrated, overpaid, overanalysed and overexposed spoilt brat who has an overinflated opinion of himself: the modern-day England footballer.

Feeling horny for sexy football

HAND me the TV remote – it’s time to hit mute.

The worldwide audience watching the greatest football show on Earth are in danger of being hit by a month-long headache.

Nurofen sales are sure to go through the roof thanks to those annoying vuvuzelas that are in danger of ruining this year’s World Cup.

It felt as though I was either being attacked by a swarm of mosquitoes or sitting in the biggest-ever traffic jam as the World Cup got underway today.

South Africa has got horny as sexy football hits her shores.

But – even in these liberal times – there surely must be limits.

The indecent exposure of these mini trumpets in the opening two games could ruin our beautiful game’s showpiece event if they are allowed to continue getting their wicked way.

It’s time to take protection – to prevent giving birth to a new monster that could become commonplace in football forever.

Give me “Who’s the w****r in the black”, “There’s only one Wayne Rooney” and “Eng-er-land, Eng-er-land, Eng-er-land” any day of the week.

Thankfully the England fans are in town as we bid to spank the Yanks and they will sing their hearts out for the lads.

And one thing is for sure – they won’t need to get the horn to show their love for our Three Lions.

Russian girls make Kate Moss and Claudia Schiffer look like chavs

YOSHKAR-OLA is one big bizarre catwalk show.

I’ve never seen so many beautiful women, with legs that go on for miles, clad in elegant dresses with matching bags, stunning high-heel shoes and wearing immaculate make-up, trotting about the rugged and wild landscape of this rough but strangely charming Russian city.

The paths and roads are in desperate need of some fresh tarmac before someone falls down into the earth’s core. And they could do with a proper drainage system – so, that when it chucks down like it did a few mornings ago, the roads will not resemble muddy rivers.

But, despite being as practical as using an electric toaster to heat up a bath tub, the girls here dare to negotiate the huge potholes, rain lakes and other wet muddy terrain in shoes best suited for a swanky dinner party in Mayfair.

The ladies here make Kate Moss and Claudia Schiffer look like a pair of chavs knocking about a rundown council estate on a Friday night.

Although many of them struggle to make ends meet on salaries of around £120-a-month and have to work long hours, they somehow manage to shine through the gloomy backdrop of working-class Russian life.

Many men still stagger embarrassingly about the streets, sometimes in the middle of the morning, after necking a bottle or two of vodka.

But the women have more respect for themselves. Coco Chanel would be proud of them.

Russia: The good, the bad, the ugly

THE good, the bad, the ugly … a perfect way to sum up Russia.

Since landing in Moscow on Sunday afternoon, it has been yet another rollercoaster visit.

It is probably impossible for anyone to fully understand this huge country.

The people, when you get into their homes and share a couple of vodkas, are warm, welcoming and friendly. Family values are very high, something that has eroded back home during the past 20 years.

But then Russia is stuck in a time warp. The great traditions of a bygone age are still going strong – yet the remnants of 70-plus years of communism is all too apparent.

The painstaking bureaucracy over here would drive any sane person wild.

As a foreigner, alien, Westerner, whatever they call me here, I have to register with every local police authority of the areas I visit.

I was required to fill a form at a post office the other day where I had to supply my name, home address, passport number and the address where I am staying.

This information had already been supplied to the Russian Embassy in London and the immigration authorities upon arrival in Moscow.

But, hey, let’s give the information a third time … and also wait at a post office counter for 70 minutes while some stern-looking headmistress type studied my details. Quite why it took more than two minutes is beyond me.

However, what amazed me more than anything, was there were about six or seven people behind me in the queue who also had to wait. The poor lady who just popped out to buy a stamp must have been spitting feathers.

Yet she was not. In fact, everyone in the queue just accept this as part of life … even if buying a stamp over here can sometimes take longer than getting a loaf of bread in Germany in the early 1930s.

Russia is however evolving. There is no doubt about that. A new generation will take the country forward and, hopefully, seize power from backward-looking politicians more interested in lining their own pockets than to helping improve the lives of millions of hard-working Russians.

But, hopefully, the strong family values that make up the foundations of this amazing country must not be sacrificed.

That is what I love about Russia … and perhaps one day our own country will rediscover this too.

All change, please

THE Hess Express has reached its destination … all change, please … all change.

All good things come to an end and sadly the great ride for my local club Dover Athletic with Andy Hessenthaler is going no further.

Quite simply, Hess – in just three years – has established himself as a legend. He has dragged the club back from the Ryman League outposts to the verge of being back among non-league’s elite.

Sure, it would have been perfect had he finished the job he set out to do, which was to return the Mighty Whites back into the Blue Square Premier … but the lure of League football was just too much to resist.

Andy will be back at Gillingham. If not tomorrow, he will be unveiled over the next few days. I know he is meeting the odious Penfold-lookalike Paul Scally tonight to thrash out terms.

But although Dover have reached their destination with Hess – the club’s journey is by no means over.

In fact, not only is chairman Jim Parmenter eyeing Blue Square Premier football within the next two years, the ultimate ambition of becoming Kent’s second Football League club is the carrot that is driving everyone on.

Make no mistake, Jim will be appointing a top-rate replacement.

The new man at the helm will be full-time, earn a very good salary, be handed a decent budget for players and will have the chance to build his own empire.

Everything at Dover is in place. The facilities are Football League standard and there is a strong and passionate fan-base.

In short, it’s a great little club.

Although today is disappointing, tomorrow is sure to be exciting.

C’mon you Whites.