Malc the Knife: The Official 2010/2011 Sport Is A TV Show Premier League Preview

Review our previews from last year and the year before.

...Thank you ... thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen, this next one ... this is gonna be the last song for tonight. It's a number, you may have heard of it, a tune called "Mack the Knife"...

(The audience applauds.)

You have heard of it, then?

(The audience laughs politely.)

Now, this is a version with a bit of a twist, because a good friend of mine, a lyricist by the name of Fred Rartzstein, has written some new words for it. In fact Fred's here tonight — stand up, wontcha Freddie, let the good people see you ... Fred Rartzstein, folks...

(The audience applauds lightly.)

You see, Fred here is a fan of soccer, and he told me he changed the words as a way to kinda look ahead to the new season of something called the, uh, Premeer League? Have I got that right? I don't know. Soccer ... eh, it's not really my thing...

(The audience laughs.)

...but, uh, anyway, I've got alimony to pay, so here goes...

Oh, the shark, babe
Has such teeth, dear
And it shows them...
...Well, sort of off-white
Just a nest egg for the kids, dear
And he keeps them out of sight

And when that shark bites
With his teeth, babe
His instructions start to spread
Green and gold, though, wear the fans, babe
So there's never ... well, there's sometimes a trace of red...

Now, let's change the scene...

On the greensward
Saturday evening
Lies a body
Ooooooozin' life
As the body bag is removed, dear
They all chant:
"We fucked your wife"

They've got scars on their bare foreheads
And each game is a blitzkrieg
It's still August — we've got time, babe
To repurpose them for Super League

Now, let it swing...

Tottenham Hotspur's Luka Modrić
Kinda looks like Johan Cruijff
But in FIFA 10, he is closer
To a '79 Mark E. Smyth

...You sure about that one, Freddie?!...

Right about hee-yer
There was a stanza
Oh so finely wrought, it was unreal
But just the other day, I had to junk it
Thank you very much, Martin O'Neill

Aaaawwww, Fulham-Blackburn
Blackpool-Bolton, yeah
West Brom-Wigan
All that shite
Even Cillit Bang won't buy the ad slots
So just stick 'em on on Monday night

On the table, yeah, is the letter
You've been avoiding aaaaaall day
If I were you, I wouldn't bother
It says: "Your kid has
Barça DNA"

You know it's true...

Now here come the
International friendlies
Come to decimate our stable of stars
When we need them to be fit for
Our mid-season jaunt to Qatar

Aw, now, here goes, here goes...

Never mind that he got off with
The ex-girlfriend of his ex-pal —
How would you feel to be led by
A man who screwed Alicia Douvall?

...allegedly...

'You must be delighted
To finish sixth, now?'
Well it's always been a lifelong aim
To take my place among the legends
And complain about having too many games

Have you noticed
How the key of this number
Goes up a semitone with every verse?
(Oh, yes it does)
Well, my vocal cords are already shattered
And they're about to get a little bit worse

No no no no no...

Not your failure to react to changes
Not your signing who can't shoot a lick
Not your cack-handed attempts at motivation
No, it's all because the ref gave them a goal kick

Ah, ah, ah...

Ah, the winger, yeah
Now he leans over, don't you know
And feels the hamstring that's been giving him gyp
And gets berated by some fat bastard
With gravy stains on his replica strip

In the World Cup
He was as useful
As the stinkin' corpse of good ol' Milton Berle
But today he scored two goals and made another
Ah, that's why it's
The greatest league in the world

But I deplore his obscene wages
And his astronomical transfer fee
(It really is...)
It's almost enough to make you cancel
Your subscription to Sky HD

But I like that Sunday Supplement
And I can count the hairs in Martin Samuel's nose
As I wait for Henry Winter
To tell me the answer to all our woes

Now I say, I say...

We thank you for the free publicity
Now contribute to our wealth
Or our valued data partners
Will instruct you to go fuck yourself

Welcome back Joey Barton
And Kevin Nolan
Kevin Nolan and Joey B., now, Joey B. B. B.
Kevin Nolan, Joey Barton
Joey Barton and Alan Green

Seppy Blatter, Mick Platini
And — hey, it rhymes — old Egidius Braun
Oh, the line forms on the right, babe
Now that Malckyyyyyyy's
Back in town!
Look out, ol' Malcky is back!

Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen, I'm here the next four nights, tell your friends, I wasn't kidding about the alimony, good night...