Friday afternoons, eh? Don't you just love them?
Every other bugger in the office has sloped off early and you're all alone, just staring at the clock, trying to wile away the final couple of hours, determined not to start anything really new in case it actually involves doing something. Like work.
You've marvelled at FourFourTwo's Best of the Web, swooned at the tactical genius that is Paul Ince - "shoot, Paul, shoot!" - and giggled your way through the YouTube clips.
But still you're bored.
"Shooooooooot..."
Well, fear not. For, after the rip roaring success of our Super Spot the Difference Competition, La Liga Loca is coming to the rescue with another really very, very, very difficult challenge that might just see another 10 minutes tick away before you can get down the pub.
And if youâÂÂre still stumped when you get there, console yourself with the thought that you've wiled away even more time than you could ever have possibly hoped to wile away - and successfully done no work at all. Better still, you can ask you mates what they reckon the answer is. Or spend your entire weekend pondering it.
If you haven't got anything better to do.
What follows was written about a certain Englishman and his time at a certain Spanish club. The question is, which journalistic genius penned these gems of religious verse?
Who wrote this?
"A sector of the Real Madrid crowd started chorusing [David Beckham's] name. He may have thought for a moment that he had died and gone to heaven. The state of bliss, the celestial choir, the white angels: they were all there."
And this...
"Beckham and his wife heard the news [that he was joining Real Madrid] on the phone from Tony Stephens at Heathrow airport, minutes before they boarded their plane to Tokyo. Smiling and holding his wifeâÂÂs hand, off he flew, not into the sunset but towards a new dawn, happy and serene in the knowledge that, after all the pain and uncertainty of the previous six months, he had finally found a refuge in a safe, magical place, a football heaven where they played football like angels and everybody wore white."
Still stuck? HereâÂÂs a clue. He also wrote this...
"Beckham arrived barefoot, like Christ ... he was shoeless and sockless, and his faded jeans were strategically torn at the knees. But he shone. Hard as he endeavoured to look, from the waste down, like one of the wretched on earth, he shone brighter than the rest of us in the room."
Answers on a postcard to the usual address:
Not The Super Spot the Difference Competition But Still a Great Competition from the Fish in a Barrel Department
Grown Up La Liga Loca
That Bin Outside VIPs, Madrid.
And we'll come up with a prize of some sort.*
(*let's face it, we wonâÂÂt come up with a prize at all).
