So West Ham took the least surprising option and sent for David Moyes. Same old same old. I have a feeling that if Theresa May fell on her, or anyone else’s, sword, we’d send for David Moyes and that familiar figure would be shuffling up Downing Street with his wrinkly-eyed grin, proclaiming outside No. 10: ‘We’re in a relegation battle here.’ He wouldn’t be wrong either.
Looking at West Ham’s lacklustre performances, with players sometimes putting on a bit of a reluctant jog in vague pursuit of opponents sprinting past, it’s easy to imagine them in the dressing room with a fag and some of owner David Sullivan’s old top-shelf magazines. Poor old Slaven Bilic: who needs enemies when he has friends like Ian Wright, who’s pleased he got the sack because ‘he needs a rest’.
You might not watch a David Moyes team if they played in your back garden, but let us celebrate the fact that Pep Guardiola has come among us.
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