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THE MERCHANDISERS OF VENICE
All right, all right, settle down now!
I know Billy Shakespeare will be turning in his grave at my bastardisation of his handiwork. Yes I know that particular M word isn't in the dictionary and that I'm overdoing the play on words stuff but I have to grab your attention and draw you in somehow.
Besides, I could have went all crude and sexual to hook you in and posted the title of 'Fresh Creamy 44DD Jubblies coated in Italian virgin olive oil!'
Now that conjures up instant attention eh? My affliction surfaces again, I've got to stop going on Biggtitty.com and Jubblytastic.net.
I also know that our Italian shirt builder Errea, are actually based in an industrial area of Parma called, Spaghettigonamouldy but hey, gizza bit of artistic licence fer fucksake, it's only my third article on this site.
Besides, the founder of the sports clothing brand old Dia Errea, would be turning in his grave if I didn't give his company a few pointer's on how to sell more of what they produce.
Vastly overpriced gross looking clobber made out of waste petroleum products and manufactured for a nat's nacker in comparison to the huge amounts of filthy lucre which the end product attracts.
It's called value adding, I call it a fucking gigantic rip off. Freddie Shephard called it something else!
Anyway.
We've all read lately how Real Madrid have overtaken Man Spew as the world's best football club, not on the field where both have been very lacking over the last few years but in a true business sense.
I mean, we all know the world's best football club plays under the azure blue, skylark riddled, cloudless skies of Middlesbrough. No argument there Chor like and none warranted, on this site anyway.
Using all that boring Bloomberg speak of turn over, profit margin, fiscal gap, in the shit, wankerspeak all of it, Real Madrid it appears are booming big time, riding on the back of a marketing tour de force.
Yet the club with skilful Brazilians stuffed in every nook and cranny around the bowl of the Benabeau, have lost the plot on the pitch. They ain't achieved their lofty status through glorious football as they are the biggest under-achievers in world football in relation to playing staff and stratospheric resources.
Is the worldwide 'Beckham' brand having a very beneficial halo effect at last on his business partner who, he just happens to pull on the boots for?
Both uber business clubs made a bloody killing from merchandise, which used to be footer shirts and the odd scarf and rosette sold by the likes of Jack Hatfield.
Now though, it's gone ballistic and the revenue generation potential can be phenomenal for a club. With everything from a franchised rug rats dummy down to a multi-speed, articulated, Big John ribbed tickler with free C-cell batteries, all colour coded in the team's livery and symbol of course.
Recently, I was at a junior cup final here and my big Yin mate Ric was there with his Glasgee Rangers shirt on. He bought it locally in Perth through the Gers club, as he did most of his clobber.
I had a far superior red Boro tee shirt on and my Blue fleece woolly lined 1986 Boro jacket. A lot of people, mainly females of course, have commented on that jacket, how cool it looks, how devilishly handsome the wearer is, I love your accent, it's so manly and can I root you silly, take me now you stud - your seed is my aim.
Oops! Affliction again. Where can I get one for myself or my fellah?
Try a flight to Blighty my Pettle and a trip up to Smogsville on Tees, an historical little hamlet ensconced well and truly in Europe, unlike it's poorer neighbours up the road. Hit the Endeavour centre or the hallowed turf of the Riverside to the excellent club shop and be prepared to shell out the spondos because nothing is cheap when it has a team logo on board!
$2200 return flight, train to Boro $350, Boro shirt $120, pint of ale and a ploughman's $30, fucking inflation. Priceless!
Why can't I buy that kind of stuff in Perth though? Because you're in Sydney ya dopey fucker!
No! Why indeed, and you wonder why the world is populated with the multitude of Man Spew, Arsehole and now Chelski shirts. The sheep know no better?
Well let's educate them I say.
Boro really need to tap wholeheartedly into that market for profit.
They can't even express their individuality because we don't sell our gear to them anywhere else around the globe. Anyone who's got any notion of fashion, will know that branded sports wear/surf gear is steaming hot world wide.
Especially so with the Yoof element and well accepted as part of modern cred street culture. Scruffy fuckers, compulsory short back and sides, a dose of National service and a daily spoon of cod-liver oil would soon sort out the foul-mouthed little buggers, hey Grandad!
I've just had a cracking alcohol fuelled trip down the coast South of Perth, to the bustling seaside metropolis of Mandurah. Now what's this got to do with my rant on Merchandise? Bare with me you impatient buggers. You know I wander off occasionally.
"The sun-streaked water sparkled like the effervescence from a newly popped bottle of Moet Chandon. Dolphins danced inquisitively and speedily across the bow of the cruising Searay launch, criss-crossing the cresting bow in perfectly timed harmony like natural water aerobians.
Sea birds railed in decreasing circles in the white frothing wake of our twin-engined stead, powering forward, treating the elements with arrogant disdain."
Just setting the scene like Ernie Hemingway would. No I'm not comparing myself to him. I'm more like Ernie Haemorrhoid!
Anyway, we motored down in my Mate's new boat, this fibreglass fanny magnet on water like you'd see in Baywatch and the fucker only sells fruit and veg for a living.
Now I went to school with one of the Honeymans, Boro's favourite fruit and veg dynasty and the only boat he had was in his bath along with the yellow rubber duck!
Well Graham, fruit n' veg mafia man, remarked how he now looks out for the Boro's results, so he can give me shite probably, and how he wouldn't say no to a Boro shirt and reckons the home shirt looks 'fakken bonzer!'
Next day, we're perusing the marina and I happened to have a quick impromptu kick around with some young bairns in a park who remarked how they liked my Boro shirt, white away from 2002. The wee tackers recognised the Middlesbrough badge as the club Schwarzer and the local lad Brad Jones play for in goal and Oh! Mark Viduka.
On the utterance of the fat boy's name, they promptly stopped playing, had a lie down and a little nap and woke up some hours later with feigned indifference!
They said their Dad's all watched the EPL every week, as they did, and how they liked the red shirt with the white hoop. Thought it was different and individual. They said they would love one and were sick of seeing the same old Man spew, Arsehole and Chelski numbers and would like a different shirt to be exactly that. Different.
So I took $120 dollars off them all, one boofheaded little fucker put up a fight but they breed these 9 year olds big over here and promised I'd buy 'em a shirt on my next trip. Pigs arse!
Using my mucker Graham's business acumen and my credentials as a Boro wallah par excellence, I'm sure it would make a lucrative sideline for one ErimusRed in Oz., supplier of all things Middlesbrough!
So give us a ring Gibbo or get Lamby to bell me on the batphone and we'll talk turkey Chor!
The immortal WG Holmes regularly used to use the saying; "In life Son, you reap what you sow!" Usually followed rapidly in my case with "That's why you are always in trouble ya bloody little twat!"
If we ain't doing the reaping, we certainly won't sow the profit that we as a club could achieve. Or, for that matter attract floating supporters who need an allegiance to somebody other than the usual suspects.
A lot of people who support teams in lower divisions or, even outside the Football league, tend to support another club in the EPL. A halo club if you like. Why not our Bonny Boro?
Imagine all those merchandise sales our Beloved are missing out on? All that filthy lucre generated to be ploughed back into our great club.
A healthy club financially should and would benefit the real fans. You lot.
So come on Gibbo and Lamby, I'll do my part and start the ball rolling.
Now, what's the catalogue number for that Nutmeg branded willy warmer with Roary embroidered on the bell end cover, the one with the fluffy sheepskin lining in the scrotum zone, colour coded, extra large of course!
Enough said!
ERIMUSRED
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