The uneventful life of a retired footballer

I'm Bert Tiddle and you've never heard of me. When I was with Sheffield United in 1991, I was sent off for no reason whatsoever. David Barnes said I went too far when I put an advert in the Sheffield Star the next say calling the match ref a zoo pervert. David Barnes is a numpty.

Everyone's moaning about referees these days and it's the worst. Ferguson, Wenger, Rick van Persie. All they do is cry to the idiots in the press about how terrible the officials are and how they ruin everything. Every morning I sit down with the paper and a nice pastry and a every morning having to read this lunacy makes me vomit like a designer shower spout.

Harlot, one of my 18 kids said to me, "But Pop, these referees are changing games and ruining everything." Exactly. That's the beauty of it. Now stop sitting so close to your boyfriend or you'll get pregnant with a ginger baby. You want referees to be perfect? Build them out of robots and wait for one to kill a man with its emotionless steel hook hands.

And everybody thinks referees are out to get their club. Well, I don't care if you're Arsenal or Hartlepool, your club isn't that special and they're not. The only reason you think that is because you're too self-involved to realize that your opinions are stupid.

A player can miss a shot, a manager can invent a terrible formation and a referee can make a wrong call. Welcome to human stuff, pudding brains. I'm going to buy an ant farm.

Follow Bert on Twitter. Or don't. He doesn't care.