make a difference, cull a seal

as humble football wakes every morning it peers through opaque eyes to discover that the myling have left a glass of nerpa milk next to its bed. every morning humble football vows to repay this kindness by culling as many seals as the season provides. at humble football we serve the myling in their attempts to expand their control over the entire FA. the greatest threat to this necessary historical process are mutant seal-footballer offspring from a displaced seal camp on the Moray Firth - one of the few regions of the country which lies beyond myling control.

resistance is widespread. the norwegians seem particularly confused as to how to counter the appearance of seal-human hybrids and reasonably so - i mean, how do you take the ball away from someone who's bouncing it on his head? as ever, the proud brazilian servants of the myling crown have found an inventive culling method - if he's bouncing it on his head, drop kick him as close to his head as you possibly can and then fall to the ground feigning mere collision. observe:




so remember, if you see a seal, kill it with a hook, then drain it's milk as it dies, present the majority of it at the nearest myling shrine and take a few drops for yourself. and as you glance furtively around and suck the milk from your greedy fingers, remember the eternal maxim: you may be bad, but your enemy is worse than you. this beachmaster wants your women.