Raymond Domenech has been found hanged in the middle of his luxury suite, the final act of this sordid tragedy. In his pocket a letter of insults: "Son of a bitch, your gonna race it down the fluff balls! Balance buggered! Coach of shit! You're gonna die! "The traitor hunt, advocated by the master of faded blue, now red blood ends. The investigation should determine the circumstances of death.
That's Coach who had dared to reveal his journalist girlfriend sweet words of Anelka. At the insult of insults, Domenech did not add the cowardice of silence.
With this violent death, we must bury a system that favored the bastards with big egos surfriqués. This group was a conglomerate of opportunists. They grow a cock fevered solidarity to fight internally, some involving the heart of their principles to the unworthy omerta dross that were taking place in this team rancid.
The Henry's wandering hand, the tool oozing Ribery, the ugly face of Anelka and now his tongue hanging out of Domenech: adventure, but sadly not played singée, the French national team comes down to a summary puzzle organic stack.
And that seventy years after the commitment of a man against a Cardinal calamitous surrender, our country s 'stirred for a loss to Baball laughable. The France of 2010 was the symbol that it deserves: a bit of shit in a corpse swinging ...
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