Thursday, 11 November 2010

Roy Keane

I was asked by a friend to write a piece about everyone's least favourite Irish footballer Roy Keane. So I came up with this little composition. It's not great, but I enjoyed writing it as it allowed for some comic flourishes in amongst the angst. Enjoy!

“And the next competitor please.”

The man with the beard stands up, and walks directly to the black chair. No fear. No deviation. He sits, sitting bolt upright in the chair, and fixes his gaze on the presenter.

“And your name, please.”

“Royston Maurice Keane.”

“And your age?”

“None of your business.”

“And your specialist subject please?”

“Royston Maurice Keane.”

“One minute on Roy Keane, starting now...Where was Keane born?”


“Correct. How many goals did Keane score for Manchester United?”

“It does not matter.”

“Correct. What was Keane's considerd opinion of Mick McCarthy, the colourful Yorkshireman who managed the Republic of Ireland for the 2002 World Cup?”

“A fucking bollocks.”

“Correct. What are the names of Keane's two labradors?”

“Labrador crosses. “Lucky” and “Scarfface.”

“Correct. How many caps did Keane win for his country?”


“Correct! What is Keane's favourite movie?”

“'Natural Born Killers' when sober. 'PS. I Love You' when drunk.

“What about when he's tipsy?”

“Royston Maurice Keane does not get tipsy.”

“Correct. In a question posed to him in 2005, who did Keane reveal as the greatest player of all time?”

“Royston Maurice Keane.”

“Correct. How many times...” BEEP BEEP BEEP “I've started so I will finish...How many times did Keane win the European Cup?”


“INCORRECT! Once, in 1999.”

“I didn't fucking play.”

“Thankyou Roy Keane, you scored...7 points!”

He walks back to his seat next to the other contestants. He doesn't know who they are. They look weak. Bottlers. He can smell the fear off of them.

In the General Knowledge round he gets zero points. He does not bother with General Knowledge. General Knowledge is a subject for pussies. For the mentally weak, pretending they are strong-minded by learning random bits of useless crap which no-one needs to know. He does not need to know.

Seven points, officially in last place. But everyone knows he's won. Deep down, they know – the presenter, the contestants, the audience, the sound crew, the producer – they all know.

There is only one winner tonight. Always only the one winner.


Patrick Campbell, 2011