Mike Bassett England Manager

Reviewed by The Cobra

Ordinarily I would hate anything with the fat scouse toss pot Ricky Tomlinson in. He is about as appealing as a turd in a swimming pool, the jailbird scumbag shit eating blob nosed wanker. But Mike Basset – England Manager is one fucking awesome film, a magnificent triumph in film making. And if you don’t agree with me then you can fuck off right now.

Bassett is the manager of shitty old Norwich City, who like a jammy fucker nails the England job through luck rather than skill (apparently there weren’t any fucking Swedes willing to take the job on for only £4 million a year, Eriksson you dome headed tosser). He then embarks on a magnificent footballing odyssey in attempting to guide England to World Cup qualification. As usual England are shit, but hey nonny-no they manage to stumble through and reach the finals in Brazil. They then go and get pissed up in Brazil and have some fights with some foreigner shitheads.

This film enjoys a star studded cast, from Bradley Walsh to some other people I’ve forgotten – so what, fuck off if that upsets you. Limp dicked twat face Pele turns up a couple of times too come to think of it.

Classic moments are in virtually every scene of this film, from the Gazza like Tonka’s awesome Jacuzzi antics to a pissed up Basset dancing on a bar, smashed out of his head. Best moment of all though has to be the delivery of the magnificent line – “We’re playing four-four-fucking-two”. Fucking ace. Come to think of it this is probably the best line in cinema history. Clark Gable can fuck off with his “frankly my dear I don’t give a damn!” line. Who the fuck is he trying to impress, the dodgy porn tache wearing wanker? That’s not swearing for the twenty-first century, for fuck’s sake.

Downsides to this film? Fuck all. Stop reading this dogshit and go and watch Mike Bassett, now.