It has come to light that Mario Balotelli is in charge of organizing Manchester City's Christmas party. This could be awesome.
Balotelli's sense of fun, combined with the fact that footballers can party like Charlie Sheen on a bender, To reiterate - this could be awesome. Actually, awesome doesn't cut it - neither do words like epic, disastrous or fantastic.
For noted autocrat Roberto Mancini to entrust his most wayward player with the bureaucracy of such shin-diggery was, alongside human barcoding and a Wigan Athletic clean sheet, a harbinger of the end times.
Apocalyptic could well be the best adjective to describe the event in question.
Christmas parties have been both the undoing of several careers in recent years as managers attempt to curb the fermentation of their richly-assembled squads. Robbie Keane took Spurs teammates to Ireland last season to avoid the gaze of 'Arry Redknapp. He now plays in Los Angeles.
James Beattie was allegedly "nutted" by a naked Tony Pulis when complaining that the Stoke gaffer had cancelled their Christmas party two years ago. Though a quality player, he's now without a club after being moved on shortly after.
Apparently, this is serious business.
Incidents like bowling up at a local school to talk to bullies, driving into a women's prison "too see what it was like", throwing darts at youth-teamers and telling a cop he had 5000 pounds on his car seat "because I can" indicate Balotelli's freedom of expression. Certainly, alcohol hasn't played a role in any of his past misdemeanours.
What could possibly go wrong? Twenty-five millionaire footballers who like a drink, organized by a man who could be an event planner for Cirque du Soleil? The blogosphere has nearly imploded with speculation: dwarf tossing, cheese-chasing, and the extinction of all known forms of life could well occur.
Christmas is a time for giving. All I ask this year is for is video footage.
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