Full Tweet W*nkers: ‘Exotic’ names, luxury players and journo envy

Behold, the usual suspects!

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Here we go again, people.

Another dip into the wonderful world of the Full Tweet W*nkers.

And, lo, the usual suspects are still at it:

FTW is not going to point out the irony of Piers describing a professional athlete as a “lazy luxury”, as that would be cruel and uncivil, but we would like to focus on the phrase “It’s time…”

We’ve all used it at some stage in our lives, surely, but this is a bit of a staple of what FTW has chosen to call I-Know-Best Twitter. IKBT is a loose alliance of megalomaniacs who come together each day not just to profess their utter disbelief that not everyone in the world holds the same opinion as them, but also to highlight their own superior intellect.

Progressive, conservative, whatever – anyone with a hyper-inflated sense of self-importance is welcome, regardless of political or social stripe. “It’s time” is simply a neat way of identifying oneself with the movement. Fair play, Piers.

Meanwhile, over on Proper Football Man Twitter:

Poor old noble Richard Keys.

A man of honour, dignity and integrity. A man with a moral code so righteous that Pope Francis probably wears a Richard Keys locket around his neck.

And he’s not angry with Mo Salah, he’s just hurt. “Oh no Mo. Please. Not again.” The plaintive cries of the only good man in a world of villains.

Still, if Keysey wasn’t there to stand up for us, where would we be? Thank you for your service, Richard.

Next, we slip over to Thinly Veiled Twitter:

WHY’S IT ALWAYS GOT TO BE A FOREIGN MANAGER, eh Mike?

I mean, for starters, their bloody names are so hard to pronounce…

Finally, well, these days it wouldn’t be FTW without a trip to Custis Corner:

Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.

It seems Neil’s rightly unhappy at the soaring popularity of Rory Smith, a selfish bellend who goes around making everyone else look bad with his well-written, intricately researched and offbeat online articles that are read and widely praised by thousands of people.

What a delusional arsehole Smith is. It’s probably why he’s ended up having to write for the New York Times – he just couldn’t cut it at the Sun.

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