There’s so many footballers it’s hard to know where to begin, so I just did my greatest love/hate national squad (2006)...
Crouchy—bouncy castles hire. he drives halfway across the country for parties in his garish painted van, calling into radio contexts and enjoying every second. slip him a a few fifty pound notes extra and he’ll dig out a funny costume for your kids’ party.
Owen—brickie. hopeless at everything except feeding a cement mixer and moving sand about, but he does a job in record time, and anyway he likes the routine. has walled himself into a building before, and no-one knows how he got out.
Rooney—butcher. surprisingly creative with a bit of stuffing, some sausagemeat, and a game bird. he doesnt always shower after work (bit of Lynx will do him) so local dogs follow him around (it’s Liverpool, stray dogs roving all over).
Becks—house painter. rather slapdash and liable to skive or forget to turn up for work, but he’s got such a pretty sweet gormless smile and such a golden aura that the housewives keep hiring him anyway.
Carrick—postie. you will never remember his name and you won’t miss him if you move or Royal Mail change his round, though it’s nice how everyday he hangs about the gate for a chat. properly lovely and normal but dull bloke.
Joe Cole—plumber. capable, but an absolute chancer with itchy fingers. things do tend to go missing from the side counter & cupboards every time without fail after he’s boeen round to look at the u-bend.
Jenas—chippy worker. chirpy and boyish, but you and he both know he’s going nowhere. every night before the rush when the pubs let out, he always tells himself this year will be the one he packs it in and moves to Marbella to become a holiday rep.
Stevie—foreman. reliable, above-board. an architect quality builder, but refuses to take a year or three off to get his technical Uni qualifications, because his enormous family/jobsite team come first (and anyway he’s not a class traitor alright?) he doesn’t know that his wife is shagging a local slumlord.
Lamps—mortgage broker. overly wordy and earnest to a fault, bit touchy. very much the type to grass up clients whom he merely suspects (with no evidence) might be looking to bend the law slightly. brings his work home, and feels anxious in Sundays at home out of a cheap M&S suit.
Bridgey—fruit n’ veg market seller. gets constant stick from the older louder barrow boys, and subsequently forces awkward banter too much which scares the punters. particular about weighing and pricing his produce, but will do you a deal on bananas.
Sol—sparky. could probably rewire the National Grid singlehandedly, but is fundamentally chilled and unambitious, preferring to take sporadic work between midday pub jaunts and long caravan holidays.