By Daniel Finton (Deputy Editor)
What up, Pimps?
Welcome one and welcome all to yet another Finton’s Frolic right opinion zone. Last week’s ep was about two sentences long, so I promise, to the three of you that care, this’ll be longer. Let’s just get right into it though.
I’m tired, frankly, of talking about the Queen, so I’ll instead talk about the Queen. We have a match against Brentford this week but other sides are still being impacted by a death that’s now happened a while ago. This time, however, officials say it’s down to policing.
Hold the hell up there, spanky. You mean to tell me one of the biggest cities in Europe, in one of the most advanced and rich countries in the world doesn’t have enough cops because one, big public figure passed away? That’s concerning, and London clearly needs better squad depth if that’s the case.
In the United States our totally uncontroversial police are a plenty. I think London should approach the USA with a transfer offer. Get them from a bigger city so they know what’s what. Or if that’s not really relevant, since the cops in the UK just look and seem like random dudes in Halloween costumes pretending to be cops, then hit the small towns and get a pi—, I mean officer, or a few thousand, on the cheap!
The thing is, I get needing a load of cops at the funeral. The world is a messed up place, and having officers without firearms will totally stop anything from happening. I kid, I saw there were snipers on nearby rooftops. Get Xhaka up there, he’s got a good long shot on him! And if a perpetrator has anything to do with Manchester United whatsoever, you know he’s going down real quick.
To tie it all up in a bow with a serious note, I seriously don’t get how the hell London has a police shortage. As I said in the previous paragraph, the world is crazy. If I was a Londoner and saw my local force couldn’t even handle a big figure’s funeral, I’d be concerned for my safety. This should be a lesson. Fix it before a crisis.
Toodloo…!
P.S. ... G
One last little P.S./tidbit for those that give a damn, and maybe you few that’re frequent, FF flyers.
I’ve opened up a lot, emotionally, with these silly articles from time to time. Dorky people like me are emotional babies, so I apologize for that and the upcoming sappiness. I’ve talked about the searing anxiety I’ve felt regarding my aspirations in these a few times. My goal in life, career wise, was ultimately to work with a football team’s social media or content team. I love making stuff and I think I’m okay at it, so I wanted to get paid for it too, which I'm most certainly not at the moment as podcast listeners will know fully well.
To my inconvenience, it’s an extremely competitive industry. And rejection emails, unlike London Police, are abundant. I’d been shot down like a deer in hunting season with a limp, so many times that I didn’t see any light at the end of the tunnel. I felt crushed by the weight of my own ambition. And sometimes, I won’t lie, it became hard to write these, and that’s a problem.
Not hard because the team, or few readers, or work load, or anything that like either. But hard because each time I wrote one of these I felt more and more like a hack. And what reputable company wants that? Some silly guy who makes half baked jokes and rarely writes anything serious — I felt like I was shooting holes into the bottom of my own boat. Self sabotaging.
My brain is weird though. Any creators out there will relate to this. I pretty much hate every single thing I have ever written or made. I hate the sound of my own voice and always think people are thinking to themselves, "this guy is an idiot, I hate him," whenever I'm talking. I think the same when I write. I'm fully capable of seeing comments on the Instagram about what people think of an FF, but I never have. I'm too scared. So, I basically want to be the center of attention and make people laugh, but also don't want people to share their thoughts about my stuff. Oh, and I love concerts and live matches, but despise crowds in any other capacity, I'm a walking juxtaposition. And I've been fearing for years that I, the personified oxymoron, was an unattractive, not nearly confident enough, option for a company. Someone like an Alfie, who I'm about to mention here soon, is such a better choice because he's so assured and shows such conviction and confidence in everything he says.
But I got a job. I’ll be working with the PSG Academy in Miami full time as a social media specialist and content creator, and I’m getting paid to do it. This isn’t some weird anecdote where I’m trying to brag either, consider it more a long winded thank you letter.
I truly don’t know what I would have done without this team. If Alfie Culshaw, the Chief Editor hadn’t reached out to me, we wouldn’t have made this squad. If our team wasn’t so good, people wouldn’t read our shit. If you didn’t read our content, I wouldn’t make it, and in effect of that, wouldn’t have made it (to my dream).
So I just wanted to thank all of the Pimps. These helped me get through some really difficult weeks and months. Sadly .. however .. it’s time for Finton’s Frolics to ..
Continue next week! See y’all then and forever!
TwoDooLoo (get it, second time) …!
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