"The face of the operation is Briatore (referred to exclusively in the film by his colleagues and angry, chanting detractors as "Flavio"), an anthropomorphic radish who spends most of his time at QPR plotting to fire all of the managers."
In light of the weekend hockey events, I have decided to chime in and beat a dead horse. With a different perspective of course.
Because this is a "diary" I will take you back to 1992. It is a warm atumn evening and the lawn needs to be mowed. I am 13 years old and hate that lawn. In fact at this point, I hate life. Parents are dumb, and people are annoying in general. As I mow back and forth about 12 times, it is then time to dump the bag.(yes, I knew at level 3 it took 12 swipes to fill that @#$%&*! bag)
As I go to the dump pile, which seemed about 8 miles away, I see something come from nowhere out of the corner of my eye. The bag of grass goes flying with the clippings all over the freshly mowed grass. I was busy minding my business doing my stupid chores; the right way and some DOUCHE messes with me. It is on! I proceed to chase this freak around the yard and run his ass into a corner on the deck. His only option is to grab the 3 wood that is resting in the corner. Next thing I know I am staring up at the gray skies. That MF'er knocked me cold with the 3 wood.(he threw it and it connected...he knew he could not get in close enough to swing it at me) Who would do such a thing?
You guessed it, that MF'er was my LITTLE brother. Par for the course. I wondered why the events at Yost on Saturday felt so familiar after watching the replays.....