Doesn't make me smile, it makes me scream and howl with demented laughter: tears flowing down my cheeks, stomach aching, and people tut-tutting and saying: "Oh, it's not THAT funny."
But I beg to differ, it IS that funny. A football club are being taken to the cleaners by a bunch of (mostly) foreign mercenaries who couldn't give two fucks whether the team paying their extortionate wage demands wins or not, as long as millions and millions of pounds are being deposited into their respective bank accounts. And there is sweet fuck-all the club can do about it because it was their own sheer stupidity that compelled them to offer such ridiculous contracts to begin with.
And it's not just A club...it's the rags, if you please. The very club who have lorded it up over everyone else (us in particular) for so many years that it was almost acceptable for them to sneer and belittle us, patronise and deride us simultaneously, to look down their noses at us like Prince Andrew looked down at his foot servants and underlings who performed menial duties for his former Royal Highness...when he was a member of the Family.
The demise of the rags must, by necessity, be a long and drawn-out affair. It should last for years. Every single football fan on planet earth must be given sufficient time to raise a glass and drink a toast to the 'death from a thousand cuts' those bastards have been due for many a long year.