An article from an Irish newspaper describing Joe Kinnear's appointment at St James' Park ...
Joe Kinnear reminded us this week of his undisputed standing as the most bellicose, bullying throwback in all of English football, foul towards those who cast the slightest aspersions and incapable of pronouncing a foreign player’s name if his life depended on it.
The unlovable Kinnear is easily imagined as the type of oaf who, if he ever wandered into a boulangerie to be asked “Pain, monsieur?”, would shoot back, “Nah, bread!”
His conduct is so utterly classless that his first public remark, during that ill-starred four-month spell managing on Tyneside, was to denigrate a reporter with the crudest word in the English language.
It seems extraordinary that a man so denuded of linguistic dexterity, lately bequeathing to our lexicon such jewels as “Yohan Kebab” and “Derek Lambezi” should once have found himself the manager of India and Nepal.
Yes, I had to read that twice, too.
Seldom has there been so great a leap of imagination as to imagine Kinnear of Kathmandu.
And yet there he was, in the autumn of 1983, crossing the Annapurnas by private jet and taking training at the foot of Everest. One shudders to imagine, though, how his introduction to Crown Prince Dipendra might have unfolded. “No, Mr Kinnear, not Defender. Dipendra.”
The late prince, you may not be aware, was counted by Kinnear as “one of my closest friends”.
In 2001, Dipendra attained worldwide notoriety in one of the most dramatic royal scandals of modern times, when he shot and killed nine members of his family and himself, reputedly over his intention to marry a lower class of aristocrat. Or, as the ever-sensitive Kinnear so delicately put it: “He was the King’s son, he had to marry some other bird. The usual c---. So he killed them all and blew his brains out.”
You would expect Kinnear, given his connections at the highest echelons of Himalayan nobility, to be a touch more culturally attuned.
Source: Newcastle United Mad
Source: FOOTYMAD
