Asim wrote:
This commentary is really making me look forward to the ITV World Cup coverage.
I found a group on facebook called 'Clive Tydesley is the antichrist'. Here's what it had to say:
In the crowded field of sub-standard football commentators/analysts (from the sonic waffling of John Motson, to the frankly mesmeric philosophies of Martin Keown) there is one man who dares to be different, who dares to break through boundaries, who dares to stand up amongst media riff-raff and Robbie Earle and say "No! I refuse to be one of the crowd! I want to be a loud, over-excited, biased piece of play-dough with a microphone!"
That's right, folks, Clive Tyldesley manages to turn being a fat, annoying twat into an art form. What other broadcaster could mix pathetic metaphors, a relentless love of Manchester United, and a blatant addiction to Ginster's Pasties (an addiction so powerful David Pleat once exclaimed, "Fuck me, Clive, that's a lot of pasties for one man...") to such a ridiculous end?
Logic does not come into play, and his abysmal commentaries ask more questions than they answer: Why does he feel the need to speak at every single second of the 90 minutes, even when the match would be better summed up by silence or the sound of a weeping gazelle? Why does he refer to 'that balmy night in Barcelona/Istanbul' every time a team concedes a goal in the Champions League? Why does he try to make 'memorable' soundbytes more than analysing the fucking game he's watching?
The only answer to these questions, my brethren, lies in the fact that he is the son of the devil.
Made me laugh, but maybe I'm easily amused.
