Jamie Thompson

Defence.....if he can be bothered

He says.....

Couldn't even be arsed to write a player profile

The lads say.....

Sloping out of Steel’s Fishbar in Grimsby with all the boundless energy of a sloth on sleeping pills for a Life of Grime in London Village we give you : Jamie “Half Arsed” Thompson. A man too lazy to breathe, too “will this do?” to dress in the light, too stupendously bone-idle to do anything of vigour except picking his nose while pretending to work in advertising. Thommo is the living embodiment of all that is crippling Naughties’ Britain today. Rocking a look not unlike Les Dawson in Pete Doherty’s spotty skin with a laugh of a 5 year old on mind-bending drugs, JT is the PS2 / SuperSize Me generation kid that grew up, let himself go, and simply cannot be bothered anymore. More filling out than falling down. Despite his spectacularly lackadaisical, non-committal outer shell, Thompson is a real bastard of an opponent on the field. A Claude Makalele in a coma.