Burksey: The Autobiography of a Football God - Softcover

Peter Morfoot

9781905449491: Burksey: The Autobiography of a Football God

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1905449496 ISBN 13: 9781905449491

Publisher: Know the Score Books, 2006

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Review:

A funny, savage and endlessly inventive satire on modern football, Burksey is also a compelling story in its own right. --Gareth Edwards, Producer of Dead Ringers & Spaced

Glorious. Sure-fired to give you more belly laughs than a night out with Johnny Vegas. --The Non-League Paper

More side-splitting than one of my tackles! --Ron 'Chopper' Harris

From the Publisher:

Review for Burksey in Time Out: This has `cult classic' written all over it. `Burksey' is the spoof autobiography of Tristan Stephen Burkes, a world-class footballing genius and monstrous idiot. Although a fair amount of knowledge of football over the past few decades is assumed, Burksey isn't about the sport per se - it's also a broader satire on celebrity and contemporary society, from New Age therapies and rehab to BritArt and fandom. `Burksey' is a savage indictment of the greed of modern-day football (Burksey signs a new �110,000-a-week contract for his new club, Sporting Meriden, on World Poverty Day) and is also very, very funny. One of the brilliant conceits is that the book has been ghostwritten by about seven people, each one presumably unable to continue working for such an egomaniac; another is the hilarious and outrageous plugs for one of his sponsors, the Stelsat Corporation of America. A lot of the fun of `Burksey' is the all-too-plausibly preposterous situations he finds himself in, such as partially sacrificing a goat and putting Ossie Ardiles into a hypnotic trance. Zelig-like, Burksey is involved in most of the major sporting and social events of the past couple of decades - he's a big fan of `Mrs T', naturally. But somehow, as with other footballers you know to be venal, money-grabbing bastards, you can't help rooting for him. Another joy is trying to spot the bits that Morfoot has made up, interwoven as they are with scarcely credible factual stories. I'm not entirely sure, for example, that the biscuit rota at Chelsea supposedly brought in by Glenn Hoddle is untrue. And the spoof Chris Morris programme, `Brass Knuckles', in which Burksey fulminates on behalf of children attacked by underwater bees, is worthy of the great man himself. Morfoot is obviously, despite everything, a huge football fan and one senses his deep disgust at the way the game has developed. The only downside is that I won't be able to look at Delia Smith's ginger sponge ever again.

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