Great Moments in Sport, no. 87: Joe Pesci remembers the 2003 London Marathon
I HAD the privilege of witnessing my first London Marathon a few years ago when some business associates and myself were in town to take care of this thing. To many, this fucking global event conjures up images of thousands of deadbeats running 26 miles dressed as fucking turkeys in order to raise awareness for retards with learning difficulties.
Okay, back to my fucking story. It was a beautiful spring morning and I’d gone out to get the fucking papers.
I kinda noticed that there was this big group of morons gathered by the road, cheering on some fat fuck who was out jogging.
‘What the fuck is going on here?’ I asked this one guy. ‘It’s the London Marathon, mate’. This guy had a real fucking attitude. So I cracked the degenerate mumbling, stuttering mutt on the head a few times with this, like, heavy-duty Sunday newspaper I’d just bought – ‘Ping! Pow!’, and he falls to the floor like the big sack of shit that he is, clutching his head in agony and crying like a big fucking baby.
Then I pull out the Lifestyle Supplement, roll it up real fucking tight and tell the dumb asshole that if he doesn’t stop his stupid fucking whining, I’m going to shove it up his sorry fucking ass, sideways – fucking spoil my relaxing city break in England’s historic fucking capital.
For those of you who’re interested, some skinny fuck from Ethiopia won, and I went out and got laid – how’s that for a happy fucking ending?
As told to Matt Owen