“And it’s not even the right book. This was the one you meant to cut, that is just a cut out from an old Four Four Two.”

“And look, here: this bit is just about the chocolate bar you were eating whilst you were writing it.”

“In fact, it’s all about the chocolate bar you were eating.”

“At the bottom is a picture of you and the chocolate bar. You’re now showing me the chocolate bar wrapper. This is not how you get a first.”

“Or is it?”

“No. Put the wrapper away.”

“No, putting it in your trouser pockets won’t work, because they’re not trousers. You’ve just drawn seams on your legs.”

“No, don’t give it to me! Now everything is sticky with chocolate.”

MNC 2–0 FLM. Middle income’s Chaz Tevez downsizes syntax as weak linguistics market leaves him struggling with words of 2 or more syllable.

NEW 1–2 REA. Panicked Pard aswarm with intestinal parasites after bid to blow some buenos aires up Colo’s kack valve causes faecal backdraft.

SWA 3–1 STO. Tony Pulis ‘no bigger than an egg cup’ claims Laudrup as franchised crackpot Rick Moranis shrinks latest victim.

WHU 1–1 QPR. Fictional gagging order sees imaginary editor redact ‘crook, ‘McKay’ & ‘Remy deal smells like cot death’ from hypothetical tweet.

WIG 2–3 SUN. Joy Division frontman Adam Johnson ‘surprisingly upbeat’ despite realisation that life has no meaning & what’s the bloody point?

WBA 2–2 AV. Decision to include wild animals in hospitality package ‘reassessed’ after massive coked-up polar bear escapes banqueting suite.

CHE 2–1 ARS. Wenger “99% sure” Theo isn’t Thierry, Seabiscuit isn’t beef & reggae isn’t very good but is hopeful they will be by the weekend.

TOT 1–1 MNU. Near-naked Ferg goes on rampage in wife’s tights “to show lino what a pair of balls would look like if they pulled a bank job.”

You can follow Little Big Match on Twitter here.

Here’s the list of players and managers who narrowly missed out at this year’s Ballon d’Or award show.

Stale Solbakken

Its been an impressive year for Stale ‘king of Kongsvinger’ Solbakken. Everything looked doomed for Wolves last summer. They had been relegated, and had subsequently lost their charismatic manager, and they were still situated in the midlands. However, one man was about to change everything. And that man didn’t only look the part. He was the part.

He had guided the club to an impressive 18th in the championship by the turn of the year, and just missed out on cup glory at the final hurdle when giants Luton beat them 1-0 at home. He was sacked immediately, and just narrowly missed out on the individual managerial honour this year.

Henning Berg

Picture this. You win the Premier League, and then 16 years later, Steve Kean takes charge. And you get relegated.

After a great start to life in the championship, Kean and Blackburn Rovers parted company. Unexpectedly. The Rovers were in turmoil. Who to turn to? Well, I’ll answer that. The most credible man in the game, of course. Henning Berg. Berg got off to a flyer losing 2-0 to Crystal Palace away. 54 days and an impressive one win later. He was sacked. Alex Ferguson beware, because this United legend has his eyes on your job. And he certainly won’t hang around. He narrowly missed out on the top managers award this year. But there’s always next year. Not for Henning Berg though. Other managers. Take Stale Solbakken for example.

Mike Pollitt

Following his PFA young player of the year award in 2011, Pollitt certainly took 2012 by storm. The 42 year old one club man went a whole two years without conceding a competitive goal, until his side lost 1-0 at home to Bournemouth in this years FA Cup 3rd round. It was Pollitt’s first competitive appearance in 2 years. A shock to all that he left the Ballon d’Or ceremony empty handed. But the future’s bright for young Pollitt.

Darren Bent

A fantastic year for this captain marvel. An absolute steal at £24million, Villa have certainly got their talisman firing. £24million, that’s only £2million more than Manchester United paid for Robin van Persie. Bent, or ‘the one that got away’ as Alex Ferguson calls him, has been in dreamland since Paul Lambert took over at Villa last summer.

First, he loses the captains armband to club legend and all-round bad defender Ron Vlaar, and then he loses his place in the side. And above all, the world of football has finally realised just what an average-at-best player he is and has always been. After a year of success, Bent had to settle for a narrow 4th at this year’s Ballon d’Or.

Geoff Cameron

Geoff Cameron is a name that resonates with all football fans, whether you’re asking – where he plays, what he does, or even just who he is? When people here the name Glenn Cameron they’ll usually reply “oh, I thought his name was Gary?” to which you reply “Hmm you might be right actually”. Either way, he’s a Stoke City defender, an American and he’s called Geoff. If those weren’t three good enough reasons for him not to be considered for Ballon d’Or then you just need to describe what his face looks like and then that should do it. The former MLS 2009 All Star narrowly missed the top 3 as he accumulated 0% of the votes. Expect him to feature prominently in no time soon.

You can follow @Get_Goal_Side on Twitter.

Andres Iniesta

Few had heard of Andres Iniesta in 2011 and little changed in 2012. A nothing player who contributes little, as he watches the game drift by, a passenger if you will. How many people really know what he does? Is he a right back? Is he a left back? Who knows? One thing’s for sure though, he’s technically inept. Iniesta has fluked his way to a number of titles, all of which were entirely undeserved. So why has he been nominated for the most prestigious individual award in football? A prize only awarded to the most influential stand out players of their generation. We would guess political reasons. The Danish always vote for the Swedes, just look at Eurovision. Andres can certainly count himself lucky to be nominated; it’s a shame because the people’s favourite, Keith Andrews, has missed out for the 40^th year running. Politics eh.

Lionel Messi

Every year the Ballon d’or throws up an unexpected surprise. And every year they get worse. This year it went by the name of Lionel Messi. Burnt out, washed up, and a complete liability. Say what you will about the greatest player ever but he certainly hasn’t lived up to the hype. The 25 year-old journey-man had a relatively quiet 2012, especially in the summer, where he once again failed to perform at the highest stage of International Football in Ukraine and Poland. Leaving the European Championship’s without a single goal. Argentina’s star man? Think again. Yet to strike in 2013, we fear this flash in the pan will be a forgotten man by the time next year’s nominees are announced. 91 goals mean he is a certainty for the Ballon d’or this year. And next.

Cristiano Ronaldo

The one-dimensional Portuguese International is regarded as one of football’s greatest tragedies, football’s ultimate ‘nearly-man’. He joined Manchester United in 2003 with all the potential in the world, but after 6 years with no end product, he was shafted out. An outcast, a nervous wreck, no-one would touch him. Then Real Madrid came calling. The world was stunned. Cristiano was stalling. After a long spell spent um-ing and ah-ing, Ronaldo finally made the switch to Madrid, against his will. As predicted, he settled in slowly and has struggled to find the form that saw him so sought after as a teenager. 170 games and 169 goals later, Madrid look to have finally given up trying on the trickster. And there’s no doubt that he’ll be on his way out sooner rather than later. Never escaping the shadow of his older brother, and former Real Madrid superstar Ronaldo, Ronaldo will be desperate to win this award and become his own man. Before it’s too late.

Tito Vilanova

Completing the quartet of finalists is Tito Vilanova, and having retired from football almost seven years ago, with Mexican giants Dorados de Sinaloa, he is also arguably the strangest of them all. Such is his influence on the pitch, he just cannot be overlooked. Tito Vilanova broke into the Barcelona B team in 1990, and then went on to make his first team debut in 1992 before playing a total of 384 times for the Catalan giants. However, it wasn’t until he left Spain that he really came into his own. A spell at Roma sandwiched in between two spells at Brescia saw Tito finally get his big break when European Cup holders Al-Ahli came calling in 2003. Two seasons at the Qatari side saw Tito grab an insignificant 7 goals in an irrelevant 36 games. His time at Al-Ahli was up in 2005. This brings us to now. A chance to finish his career at the highest level was deemed an opportunity too great to turn down for the Catalan star. This is why he couldn’t say no to high-flying Dorados de Sinaola. He subsequently played there for six months before retiring definitively.
Seven years on and his time in Mexico has seen him awarded for the most prestigious individual awards for a player to win. An underdog, a dark horse and a certainty for the prize we think.

Jose Mourinho

The Stale Solbakken of Spanish football and the only managerial candidate on the list (we guess there could be a surprise separate award, but we’ll see).  Jose Mourinho has gone from club to club and hasn’t a trophy to his name, it’s remarkable he’s still in a job. Real Madrid were in La Liga when Jose joined and they’re still there now, that’s not progression. When Jose leaves a club they almost immediately turn it around and win nothing for the next 10 years. Mourinho has his assistant Terry Connor to thank for being nominated after Terry failed to win a single game for Wolves, hardly a coincidence is it? Being the only nominee might see him just fall short this year. However Peter Reid once said this about his former friend: “For every one million Jose Mourinhos there will only over be one Paul Mariner”. If that’s not indicative of his chances then I’m not sure what is.

Words @Get_Goal_Side

Illustrations Max Grieve

The biggest story of the week has been Demba Ba’s transfer to Chelsea. A lot has been written about whether both of them can play or not. The consensus, this time, is right. Two into one will not go. It will usually be one or the other player. Two into one will not go. If Demba Ba plays alone, that is one player for one position. If Fernando Torres plays alone, that is one player for one position. If Demba Ba and Fernando Torres play together – they can’t! That’s trying to put two into one, and that will not go.

In conclusion, the tactics suggest that Demba Ba and Fernando Torres will struggle to play together.  Look at the diagram for proof:

2. Your stories are all rubbish. If you want people to like you, start telling other people’s stories as if they’re your own. “My brother went to see Johnny Marr last night” becomes “I went to see Johnny Marr last night”; “My friend was mugged on a night out” becomes “I mugged someone last night”; you become Mr Popular.

3. It’s easier to get friends if you make it seem as though you’re already popular – it’s not fair that it works like that, but it does; apparently people like proof that you’re alright before they commit to a friendship. There’s an easy solution to this though. Every time you tell a story, say that the people involved are your friends. “I saw a guy juggling on the tube” becomes “My friend was juggling on the tube”; “Did you read about the paedophiles in the newspaper?” becomes “My friend is a paedophile”; over time popularity will arrive to replace the illusion of popularity. If not, you can also extend the lie so that you’re lying to yourself also.

4. You’ve tried to find where the next sexual revolution will start but you’ve failed? Simply start your own, alone in your room. Others will follow.

5. The modern gentleman is now not just expected to buy his own trousers, he is also expected to wear them in public.

6. Principles are important, and they’ll help you get on in life. When somebody awkwardly stumbles in front of you and holds you up in the street, help them up and then thump them for getting in your way. When somebody asks you to hold the lift door for them, hold the lift door for them. Once they’re inside, thump them for holding up your journey. When somebody asks you for a lift home as you’re going that way anyway, drive off a cliff.

7. This is 2012, stop looking backwards and concentrate on the here and now. So 2011 wasn’t you year, 2012 can be way better if you can only stay in the moment this time around.

8. Being rejected by a girl doesn’t have to be a bad thing, it can be an opportunity. You’ve never tried murder before, now you can.

9. Being put on trial doesn’t have to be a bad thing, it can be an opportunity. You’ve never made friends before, so make sure you tell your new cellmates and prison friends about all the paedophiles you have as friends. You’ll be amazed what this conversation-starter will do for your reputation around the prison.

10. When you’re found not guilty due to the murder being ‘yet another one of your delusions, Callum, this really is the last time I listen to a word you say,’ just change your name. Ted Bundy has a nice, friendly tone to it, give it a go. A new name, a new you.

11. Enjoy yourself while you’re still in the pink. Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself; it’s later than you think.

12. Don’t get disheartened when the promotion goes the other way, get even. Don’t get disappointed when the shop sells out of the cheap beans, get even. Don’t get down when you fail your degree, get even. Or: BLAMITY BLAM BLAM BLAM. BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM

According to Oscar Wilde, the only three certain things in the universe are death, taxes, and the misattribution of quotes. But while death gets a bad press at times, it’s a fundamentally reasonable business: it’s coming at some point, there’s nothing you can do about it, and you can’t say fairer than that. Taxes, meanwhile, pay for nurses and teachers and other component atoms of society, and should be embraced as the joyful duty of every citizen. If you don’t like death, you’re out of luck; if you don’t like taxes, become a mobile phone company.

That was satire.

There is a third, though (or a fourth if you missed the gag). Everybody you have ever loved will let you down. We know this – not just us two; you lot as well – and we know that we know. So knowing, the sensible thing to do would be to work with it. To protect yourself. To draw the shades of your heart down and keep the outside world, and those bastards that live in it, away from anywhere they might hurt you.

We don’t, though. We get stupid; we forget. A smile, a twinkling eye, a fetherlite ultra first touch, and any thought of being sensible vanishes like smoke in the breeze. In comes hope, that hideous mistress; in come all her dancing, capering, snickering children, joy and pleasure and the rest of the clan; in comes the promise that in amongst the muck and nonsense there might just be somebody worth believing in. Suckers, each and everyone of us. Suckers and patsies and fools.

For this Boxing day, Dimitar Berbatov played football, and that was fine. And this Boxing day, Dimitar Berbatov scored a goal, and that was nice. And this Boxing Day, Dimitar Berbatov revealed a homemade t-shirt reading ‘Keep Calm and Pass Me The Ball’, and that was the worst thing that has ever happened.

The Keep Calm poster, originally published by the British Ministry of Information in 1939 shadow of an impending scrap with some thoroughly un-calm Nazis, returned to the public conscious around the year 2000. Initially a nostalgic curiosity, the culture-sapping ubiquity of its seemingly endless, deathless variants has since seeped across the country like vomit over a paving stone. It has been embraced as exemplifying a fundamentally British stoicism in the face of circumstance, which is not only misguided – the stiff upper lip began quivering post-Diana and hasn’t stopped since – but actually harmful. By promulgating a desperate, homogeneous parody of chuckle-and-shrug-in-the-face-of-adversity, it engenders apathy and compliance. For their subjects to keep keeping calm and carrying on is exactly what the Tories want. It is the meme of a populace with its cap surgically grafted to its hand.

Keep Calm and Drink Tea. Keep Calm and Do Burlesque. Keep Calm and Rule Britannia. Keep Calm and Drink Wine. Keep Calm and Wear Glasses. Keep Calm and Grow Courgettes. Keep Calm and Watch Television. Keep Calm and Play Darts. Keep Calm, I’m an England Fan. Keep Calm and Buy The Sun. Keep Calm and Commit Adultery. Keep Calm and Beat Your Wife. Keep Calm and Abduct Children. Keep Calm and Weep, Weep, For What We Have Become. Keep Calm and Look At The State Of It, I Mean Really. Keep Calm and Smash Your Forehead Into The Table Until The Blood Runs Like A River And The World Slips Away.

That last is available on a tea cosy or oven gloves.

Which is not to say it doesn’t have its uses. It works as a kind of plague warning, a handy red cross splashed across a person that you would really rather not talk to, or look at, or permit oxygen. Like a fondness for cupcakes, or an interest in the writings of Caitlin Moran, it functions as a shibboleth, identifying the vacant and the lightless and the blank, the shudderingly malign and the dangerously unoriginal,.

So back to Berbatov. He was supposed to be none of those things. He was supposed to be dignified and intelligent, sensitive and sensuous. He was supposed to be plague-free. Then suddenly the sun folded in the sky. The universe, once again, revealed itself as a bleak procession from disappointment through regret onto hatred. The human condition is to be smashed in the heart, over and over again. Lie down on your bed, turn out the lights, and repeat with me: Everybody you have ever loved will let you down. Everybody you have ever loved will let you down. Everybody you have ever loved will let you down.

Oh, Dimitar.

Alex and Andi both feature in the Surreal Football Magazine, available in all formats including hard copy. You can order a copy at www.surrealfootballmagazine.co.uk. It rivals, and ultimately beats, Shakespeare in terms of quality.

2. If you are forced to go out to a party, take a drill. You don’t know what might happen, but you’re better safe than sorry, and with a drill.

3. Keep in mind at all times that next year will be even worse than this one. Optimism is the last thing you need now.

4. Someone always spoils the party by becoming drunk and emotional about their failing relationship. Ensure that this doesn’t happen to you by never striking up a relationship with anyone, even the girl you really love and who never leaves your mind. The girl you know intimately and who constantly hints that she wants to be with you, if only you’d asked. The girl who understands you like nobody else. Do not have a relationship with her, or you might end up mildly embarrassed during one New Year’s Eve that nobody else will remember.

5. Everyone loves an amateur magician.

6. Subtly undermine the party by burning the venue down.

7. If anything says ‘I’m the centre of the party – women want to be with me, men want to be me and/or be with me’ then it’s loud discussion of politics with the guy who arrived in the sweater and shirt with a collar who went to private school. You’ll definitely come off looking like the laid-back funster you’ve secretly always been.

8. Dress to impress. Wear trousers.

9. Play a game with yourself: see how long you can wait until you start crying. If you get to 12 without crying, reward yourself by allowing yourself to cry.

10. Instead of singing Auld Lang Syne, scream into a pillow.

11. Run black marker through every date in your 2013 calendar so you don’t get tempted to make the same mistake of going out and doing stuff you did in 2012.

12. If you’re going to say he was coming at you with a knife, for God’s sake remember to put a knife near the corpse before anybody else gets into the room.

13. If all else fails as a topic of conversation, and by Jove you’ll make sure they do, simply proceed to complain about other football writers who are nicer and more talented than you, and make yourself look childishly jealous and unpleasant to be around.

14. Try to move on from last year. Destroy the evidence – it’s been a while by now, you might have got away with it. Plus, it’s not healthy to keep a human head as a trophy.

The Surreal Football Magazine can be bought on all formats here.