Earlier this week a study by an online dating site discovered that Chelsea supporters were the most unattractive to potential suitors. Don’t worry though Blues, they only mean on the inside.
It got us thinking though as we waded through the shallow waters of the survey – what about on the pitch?
Who in the Premier League scared the midwife senseless as they gurned their way into this world? Which players, minus their talent and riches, would be fated to attend the prom of life very much alone?
Avert your gaze or at least make sure you haven’t just eaten because things are going to get ugly…
Somewhere in Lagarto, Brazil the other Costa twin is chained to a beam in a forgotten attic, feasting on fish-heads, and sporadically croaking, “You’ve hidden the wrong one from society!”
Diego the gargoyle brute doesn’t mean to elbow, punch and stamp his way around a football pitch. With his mutated DNA it’s the only way he knows how to make friends.
There’s always an upside though – the Chelsea miscreation was able to buy Razzle at the age of six…
When undergoing his monthly shave the man known to millions as ‘Shrek’ eschews a traditional razor for a potato peeler. Because propped up on that tree stump neck – and bizarrely topped by a thatch of out-of-date Weetabix – is less a human noggin and more a lumpen King Edward. Anyone hungry? Thought not?
Making lemonade from lemons the German’s amphibian gaze affords him the peripheral vision needed to find an Arsenal team-mate in space. He was also reputed to be his school playground’s Statues champion for three years running.
When not trying to behead Highlander or wrestling with impunity at corners the gnarly Slovak likes nothing better than to smother himself in Nivea. Sadly applying moisturiser to those barbarian features is akin to taking a tub of Turtle Wax to a scrap yard.
Even the most routine of challenges elicits a staggering facial deformity that resembles Stan Laurel as painted by Edvard Munch. His mouth becomes a mangled bear-trap, his eyebrows head to Norway, while his eyes scream from the horror of two World Wars. Entry to Old Trafford should be rated 18.
A likeable soul who undeniably hit every branch of the ugly tree on his way down. With a face only a blind mother with burnt off fingertips could love it is said God threw away the mould when he made the Liverpool full-back. For fear of repeating the mistake.
Nosferatu’s great-great-grandson and nephew to Aston Villa’s Brad Guzan the preternatural being declined the opportunity to play for his native Romania to be occasionally decent but mostly anonymous for England. So credit due there.
The Swansea midfielder reserves his best games for midweek due to daylight making him tetchy and weary.
Cursed with the ferrety features of a spitting scrote who asks you to buy them ten Bensons outside an offy Cleverley’s unfortunate visage is exactly how Richard Curtis thinks the working classes looks like.
Despite having a mush as weathered as moorland stone and looking for all the world like a jaded Glasgow bouncer who talks of getting out of the game and returning to bare-knuckle dust-ups Charles Graham Adam is just 29 years old. He was born in 1985. He has existed on this planet for twenty nine years. Live Aid pre-dates him.
No matter how you say it fact and visual evidence just don’t stack up.