Dion Dublin - Exposed cheat that could lead to biggest litigious claim in football history

There was widespread shock and disappointment in the football community today as the world reeled in disbelief at reports that astounded even the least passionate of football fans as Dion Dublin was exposed as a liar and a cheat.

Following a revelation from a government benefits detective that Dion Dublin's mother was being investigated for making claims of having two sons, wily reporters started to piece together the clues that will bring hope to all men and a dark cloud of shame on the football association.

Dublin, famed and worshipped as much for his godly attributes as his ability to turn in the odd header is now on the run and has not been seen for four days.

Following a passing footnote in Guy Mowbray's much maligned autobiography, One man, one mic, not Motson in which he mentioned that when interviewing Dion after a game, Dion always insisted on the mic being held at groin level to capture his deep bass voice correctly, one reporter remarked 'it was like Hansel and Gretel, following one breadcrumb after the other'.

Another reporter has subsequently released a recorded interview with Dublin's ex-team mate Steve Ogrizovic, previously thought to be the coke-fuelled ramblings of a professional gargoyle, the recording has brought to light new evidence. In the interview, the Coventry Quasimodo is heard slurring 'He never showered with any of us. He said he 'never wanted to create an endemic of suicide amongst his friends if they saw in the flesh what they saw in the shadows and creases of his baby blue shorts', but I left my facial pumice stone by the drain and when I went back for it I found Dion talking to 'himself'. He was saying 'We agreed, you get 10 years in your career and then it's my turn. We agreed. Now I hear you're signing for Man Utd.? If you do, that's it, I won't speak for you anymore. You'll be the mute goon you were born as'. 'When I questioned Dion', continued Ogrizovic, 'he made out he was just practising his puppet skills. That no-one could understand the loneliness he felt and the weight he had to carry (both literally and metaphorically)'.

When Ogrizovich shared this with manager Gordon Strachan, the canny Scot remarked, 'By god you're an ugly man, how did your wee mother not smother you with her tamoshanta'. This has only fuelled the fire.

The final nail in the coffin came as the re-run of Dion's appearance on BBC's Who do you think you are? was examined further. In the episode it came apparent from the birth certificates that Dion was born as a twin, but when questioned Dion seemed unable to talk, in fact the entire episode was canned as Dion could not say one coherent word. Out of respect, the Producers assumed something terrible had happened that Dion could still not confront and refused to air the episode at the time. Having investigated further and with the doctor that delivered Dublin and his mystery doppelganger, we can confirm a shocking truth.

Dion Dublin was born as a conjoined twin. His brother, a vibrant though hidden, academic was born conjoined to Dion's lower waist which provided the myth of Dublin's manhood throughout his career. Dion himself was born a mute as his brother, Jermaine (a registered dwarf), was born with the vocal chords and trachea. It was decided early on by their aggressive Jamaican mother, that with Dion's physical prowess and Jermaine's witty, insightful conversant nature that they should take on the world. (Dublin has always been considered an intelligent footballer and has benefitted from subsequent pundit roles).

It is clear the pair did not always get on; a series of private bust-ups caused fractious resentment from both of them towards each other has become apparent since the death of their mother. Jermaine complained about the harness (and subsequent extreme chafing) he was forced to wear, about the extra press and female attention that his area of Dion's body got; how he was always being grabbed and manhandled when trying to read, the countless mini spectacles he lost because of this and the longevity of Dublin's playing career.

Apparently, when this hoax had first been put into practise there was an agreement for both brothers to have an equal share in career time. Dion was to get the first thirty years and then Jermaine would come into his own. Jermaine has spent the last 15 years writing a series of arias and contemporary classical concerto's and has clearly grown tired of living in his brother's shadow (and shorts). This came to a head when Dublin's appearance on Who do you think you are when Jermaine refused to partake in the macabre charade any further.

Dion is now thought to be on the run, holding Jermaine against his wishes. Both are wanted in questioning regarding benefit fraud, but more importantly, this story may create the longest list of litigious claims in history as every club who has ever played against the Dublin's will file that each time he played, technically it was with a team of 12 as opposed to 11. The various clubs he has turned out for themselves will also want reparations. One thing is clear, the Football Association will never be the same again. Counselling hotlines have been set up for ladies around the country through grave concerns that this revelation will break hearts, hopes and expectations in these dark times.

Wherever you are Dublin's, the secret is out, come and face your public.

EXCLUSIVE UPDATE: CLAUDE MAKELELE

Following the recent exclusive on Dion Dublin, a mob has gathered at Stamford Bridge. Fears for Claude Makelele's safety have been considered and he is being moved to a secret location (thought to be Brentwood's Secret Nuclear Bunker). Makelele however has said he will prove himself in whatever way it takes, including a centre-page spread of his naked form in the Daily Telegraph.

EXCLUSIVE: Excerpt from Nicolas Anelka's Autobiography

In an excerpt from the autobiography Anelka goes into detail about his formative years recounting his happy memories at his childhood home in Versailles; the palace.

His great great great grandmother was the controversial wet-nurse for Louis XVI's first born child and she found great favour with both royal highnesses and their offspring who regularly called her  'ol' booty'. Such was the uniqueness and success of the royal house being run by a member of the 'distant shores' that Louis proclaimed (after a visit to the Tower of London to see the beefeaters and the ravens) that, Versailles would only fall if 'Ol Booty' or her bloodline ever left its confines.

This historical dynasty ensured the family's safety throughout the troublesome revolutionary period, Anelka's great grandparents continued their work as the palace turned from royal household to the state parliament and found favour amongst the chambers members. Anelkas grandmother was even said to have been the esteemed concubine of Georges Clemenceau and can be seen in the shadows of the signing of the Treaty of Versailles.

Despite this historical foundation and mysticism surrounding the Anelka's at the palace, Nikolas, as many of his clubs have found out, isn't really too bothered by history, tradition or loyalty. In his autobiography he mentions how he was not interested in 'friends' at the palace and every birthday he would walk around the city to take back any party invitations that his parents sent out on his behalf.

This continued into every aspect of life; his first football team consisted of him alone where he would play his teddy bears all summer long; similarly he refused to sit in the same room as anyone in school and when asked what the problem was he merely responded 'It's not me. It's everyone else'. Subsequently any school year photos are Anelka portraits except for his year 7 photo, where a cheeky class mate managed to get a two finger bunny behind young Nikolas' head. Needless to say he was not amused and left the school the very next day.

Anelka however did not see a problem with this, in fact he has great memories of his childhood, 'running rings around cuddles' and 'blasting the ball so hard I knocked the rocking horses head clean off'. In fact it was after a slanging match with his favourite bear Napoleon that he decided to follow the footballing dream. Anelka remembers clearly that, 'a bear arrived on the doorstep, it was dressed as some bloke called Napoleon, who I gather was some sort of bloke who finished second. It was pretty expensive and under the tunic was a red shirt with a cannon on it. One night I was sitting in my room when it opened its eyes and spoke to me' Anelka said very seriously. He continued 'Napoleon said 'Hi Nicky, nice pj's. I saw you playing football. You have lovely long legs and great ability. You should play professionally', Anelka replied 'wouldn't I have to play with other people? Sounds awful' to which Napoleon said 'You would, but it is fun. I can teach you. It's easy. Soon, someone will come for you. Will you say yes?' Anelka said 'How much  cash will I get' at which Napoleon coughed and started to sweat a bit, 'all the chocolate gold coins in the world?' Anelka threw the bear against the wall and Napoleon responded with '£25,000 a week'.

A week after this incident Arsene Wenger showed up at the Palace and offered Anelka's parents the same deal, coincidence Nicky thought. His parents were taken aback, how did this man know about their son let alone his footballing skills, to which le professeur responded, 'I have ways'.

Whilst grateful, his parents believing the mysticism and wanting to keep the family history at the palace thanked Wenger kindly but said they couldn't allow the palace to crumble. At this, little Nicky stood up, back handed his mother across the face and bit his father’s reproductive glands and followed Wenger out of the door. This was the last time Anelka saw or spoke to his family. When asked if he misses them or regrets anything about the incident he responded, 'What did they ever do for me? Pocket money was laughable and they tried to make me share my toys. It wasn't my fault'.

EXCLUSIVE: Nicolas Anelka's Autobiography

Anelka “My Arsenal career was going from strength to strength until I crossed Vieira”

Nicolas Anelka has the football world on tenterhooks with the imminent release of his audacious autobiography ‘It’s not me. It’s everyone else.’ Which critics are already labelling ’shocking’ and ‘compelling.’

The book, which details Anelka’s rise from

Parisian street

urchin to World Cup winner certainly pulls no punches, firing broadsides at former team mates from Real Madrid, Arsenal, Manchester City, Paris St German, Liverpool and Galatasary.

“I wasn’t accepted anywhere I went.” Says Anelka with heart breaking honesty.

In it Anelka exposes the bullying tactics employed by multi national clubs world wide and holds a mirror to the ugly face of football. Some critics have even labelled it the sports equivalent to Nelson Mandela’s ‘Long Walk to Freedom’. However none of the targets suffer the wrath of Anelka as much as former team mate Patrick Vieira, whom Anelka describes as a ‘world class git.’

In excerpts to be serialised in the Guardian Anelka reveals:

“My career at Arsenal was going from strength to strength until the day I crossed Vieira, who was better known in the Arsenal dressing room as ‘Le Long.’ I was playing against Fulham at Highbury and I remember receiving a ball from Bergkamp, then rounding the keeper with ease and, with the goal wide open, somehow managing to screw the ball wide at the last minute. It only happened because the sun was in my eyes. It wasn’t my fault! Anyway Vieira gave me a glare and I knew I was in trouble, afterwards in the showers he tore into me and I just snapped, I knew I shouldn’t have, but I called him a ‘lanky limbed boombaclart.’

At first he just stared at me with his hollow eyes. Then…..WHAM!

Just like that he slapped me across the face with his penis. Just once. But it knocked me back a few steps. It was like being struck by a wet kipper. No one could believe what they saw! Can you imagine how embarrassing it is to be smacked across the face with a 14″ pork sword in front of your team mates? It was the worst moment of my life. No one said anything for what seemed like an eternity, the silence was only broken when Ashley Cole asked “Is it my turn?” It was then I knew I had to leave. When Wenger found out what he’d done he merely high-fived him and shouted “And that’s why he’s the captain. POW! Look at that thing!”

Anelka’s book reveals how he only regained his confidence eventually playing alongside Paul Dickov at Manchester City. “He could fit it in a polo.” Anelka reveals.

However not all are sympathetic to Anelka’s plight. Diagne N’dour, Vieira’s life long agent and business partner, described Anelka’s book as a ‘disgrace.’

N’dour wrote on his website that, if anything, Anelka should be privileged that he was allowed to touch Vieira’s chopper:

“In our country it is a great honour to be shown, let alone come into contact with Patrick Vieira’s porridge chucker. Instead of painting my client as a tyrant Mr Anelka should be apologising for sullying my clients penis with his miserable, miserable face.”

Patrick Vieira is yet to comment on these accusations.

Nicolas Anelka’s book “It’s not me. It’s everyone else” is on sale August 29th from Penguin.

Soothsaying: Manchester United defender Patrice Evra says he wants to be a babysitter when he quits football. Evra would also like to do a television comedy with team-mate Park Ji-Sung

Today marks the second year of retirement for ex-Manchester United and Leicester City's duo Patrice Evra and Park Ji-Sung and with it comes news of their future, not in management within the catering industry as some former team mates expected following their consistently heady debates with Old Trafford canteen managers over the genuine nature of their 'Korean stir Fry' and 'red devil soup' , but instead with the launch of their new television comedy show.

It may sound a dramatic change in direction but it is the career that the pair began practising when they first met under Alex Ferguson's regime. Park recalls (through our bemused translator) 'we hit it off from the first, quite literally. When I bowed my head to Patrice he leaned in to kiss me on the cheeks, he's French, that's what he does...' when Patrice interjected saying 'and we bumped heads. The rest of the team laughed themselves silly especially when we were both trying to apologise in our respective languages'. Rio Ferdinand apparently said that it was like an episode of the racially motivated 70's sitcom Love thy Neighbour, whilst Ferguson claimed, 'right, when you wee c***s have stopped you're snogging we can get on with some footy'.

Throughout their tenure at Old Trafford the pair continued a very close friendship and were even a trio during the Carlos Tevez time. Park recounts the memory of one Christmas party at the club where the three of them put on a tri-lingual performance of the three stooges which had Christiano Ronaldo and Wayne Rooney in fits of laughter, 'they literally snotted everywhere' Evra maintains. But when Tevez left for Eastlands the trio was down to two and whilst their other team mates called them Timon and Pumba, (a nickname coined by Vidic in which he'd chase Park (Pumba) around the training ground with a corner flag used as a hunter's spear and made Evra (Timon) perform the hoola dance in the showers for him), the pair shunned the mockery and worked on their sketches when they weren't on the Playstation 3.

Following the departure and financial meltdown when the Glazer's finally went bankrupt, Park and Patrice secured a joint move to Muzzy Issit's Leicester City where the tomfoolery continued. In their twighlight years of otherwise lucrative careers they used Leicester as their launch pad for their stand-up tours, following their own brand of comedy based on Franglaisorean, a mixture of French, Korean and English which confused many audience members. When the tour was cut short following zero ticket sales they went their separate ways for twelve months. In this time Park set up his own mini cab firm in Salford and Evra followed his original dream of being a childcare provider.

Both seemed to be settling into their new careers without any trouble until the outbreak of 'Evra-Gate' which once again brought the murky world of youth transfers into the foreground of public opinion. It was claimed by parents using Evra's 'Papa Patrice's Parlour' day-care centre that Evra would schedule meetings during 'sandbox time' with youth scouts from Manchester United, Chelsea and Liverpool where the scouts would assess the children on dexterity, lack of vocabulary and IQ and their amazement at the sight of sports cars, gold and scantily clad imbecilic women. It was claimed that the children were forced to sign hand prints on contracts on which, is claimed, Evra cut a percentage of the deal. Though never proven, the press coverage was enough to close down the business and Park was the first to console his old team mate.

Seeing Evra's confidence hit rock bottom Park insisted on the pair following their original dream of becoming a comedy duo. After the failure of a few breakthrough programmes on freeview channels such as The two P's (in which Patrice and Park replaced Barry and Paul Chuckle as part of the BBC's campaign for more culturally diverse children's presenters) they also had stunning failures with  the game show 'Two P's or Toupees'? the documentary 'Parklife' where the pair followed stray dogs around Manchester's Parks and Dance competition STOP! EVRATIME' .  They finally hit on the idea of 'Patrick and June' a tri-lingual comedy/talk show following the format of the Kumars at no. 42 from the 90's. The show will be hitting BBC 3 screens this thursday and potential viewer's appetites will be wetted by Patrice and Jung's unique brand of married couple fighting amongst Patrice ('Patrick') interviewing old sporting friends. This week they will be joined by ex-Manchester United team mates and champion plate spinners Darren Fletcher and Nemanja Vidic...there's a strong belief that there'll be a spear and bacon on the menu. Should be worth a look.

I asked Patrice Evra and Park Ji Sung to paint us an exclusive picture of their future after football:

Pat and Park had been playing Mario Cart for 5 hours straight and were now down to just their boxer shorts and comedy bow-ties. The game, which P² (as they fondly known at the Carrington Training Ground) played every Friday afternoon involved removing an item of clothing every time you lost a race. Pat couldn’t understand why Park, who unlike himself had owned a games console for his entire childhood, continually seemed to crash out on the last corner and loose the race. It mattered little though as Pat was so competitive, he was just pleased to give the quiet Korean a decent game.

A couple of races later, both left-sided players were down to just their boxer shorts and they began what would be the last race that day. As on every Friday, Pat had turned up the thermostat in his one-bedroom flat before training that morning and sweat dripped off the two players as they entered the final lap. It happened every week but it still surprised them both when the last race was completely tied. As they sat the controllers down on Pat’s baby-blue poofs, shattered from their racing exploits, they looked each other in the c*ck and simultaneously whispered ‘we both loose’

Merson: The apres McConaughey years

In 1997, after his fifth stint in rehab, Paul ‘Mers’ Merson stepped out of the, now familiar clinic into the leafy Surrey air. He was carrying his black and red Head, faux-leather holdall, wearing his white reebok classics and dressed head to toe in his Arsenal Tracksuit from the previous season (95-96.) Mers knew what he had to do; he headed straight to the nearest pub. It was only 10am so he waited outside and made a quick call to his drug dealer to score some Charles.

He noticed that the Londis across the road was open for business so he went in and bought a four-pack of special brew which he duly knocked back in the car park whilst sitting on a concrete bollard. At 10.55 a black BMW 3 series pulled up, the Charles was handed over and Mers banged on the frosted glass until the tired looking landlady unlocked the double doors. “Right, get me a f***ing pint of Stella”, said Mers as he pushed past the confused looking woman, stuffing a five pound note into her bra. Before he knew it, Mers found himself in his familiar surroundings of a graffiti-covered cubicle. He had been here so many times he felt like he was on auto-pilot as he poured his Charles from the folded paper, assembled a large line with his Barclays connect, rolled up a ten pound note and inhaled up his nose the white powder which had become both his friends and family over the last few years.

The Wedding

In 1998, Paul ‘Mers’ Merson was controversially the first man ever to be officially married to a Class A drug. Below are the vows he used at the uncivil partnership:

I used to be afraid of falling in love, of giving my heart away.
How could I trust someone to love me,
to give to me all that I wanted to give to them?
Charles, when I met you, I realized how much we could share together.
You have renewed my life:
Today I join that life with yours.

The Final Years:

Mers woke up with a start and looked at his chipped Tag Heur timepiece, it had got broken when Ian Wright found him taking photos of his overweight wife whilst she was changing in the Hotel swimming pool cubicles. Through the smashed glass front he saw that it was 9.45am. He had training in fifteen minutes.

He knew he had to rush. From the light fittings and beige wallpaper he knew that he was back in the Arsenal team hotel on the edge of North London, as he ambled to the bathroom he wondered why there were no sheets on his bed, it didn’t matter. He needed to get to London Colney by 10 or he wouldn’t play on Saturday and get his badly needed match bonus, the amount of Charles that he had run up on credit was scary and he and Ray Parlour had been to the races the previous weekend and lost a ton of money. He scraped the crusted Charles from his nose, swilled some Listerine, threw on his Cup-Winners Cup runners up tracksuit and sprinted out of the room barefoot, grabbing the keys to his, now badly dented Audi TT on his way out. It wasn’t until Mers pulled onto the M25 that he realised the year was 2007, he had left Arsenal ten years before.

Merson and McConaughey: Friends forever continued

At the height of his Arsenal career Paul ‘Mers’ Merson was photographed at a charity ball with the upcoming actor Matthew McConaghey. Shortly after the photograph was taken Mers, in his drug addled and booze soaked state, misunderstood McConaghey’s relaxed small talk and easy charm and thought he was attempting to take away his bag of Charles. He broke his Champagne flute on the American’s face and jabbed the base into McConaghey’s upper arm. He then said, “have it then” and emptied the Charles over his blood stained face before storming out of the party kicking over the canapés on his way out. It was then that the rest of the Arsenal team realised that Mers had a problem with addiction.

McConaghey, as is his way, was unruffled by this odd sequence of events. He took off his shirt, to sharp intakes of breath from the onlooking WAG’s, and wrapped it around his blood & Charles soaked head. He stood motionless for 5 minutes as he realigned his Karma and flexed his over developed triceps, before continuing his socialising for the evening. Martin Keown was later quoted as saying ‘it was amazing, he stood motionless for 5 minutes’ whilst Lee Dixon actually provided some insight to proceedings by explaining the history & benefits of Buddhist meditation. Since that now infamous evening in 1994, Matthew McConaghey has become a lifestyle guru to many of the Arsenal squad, whilst ‘Mers’ was sold to Middlesbrough 6 months later in an underwhelming deal.

Paul Merson and Matthew McConaughey; Secret Best Friends

McConaghey and Merson first met at David 'Rocky' Rocastle's funeral, where having awoken in his Middlesex home to find his 'royal mucker' Ray Parlour with his hair caught desperately in the waste disposal unit after a particular busy night babysitting 'charles, the neighbour's kid', Ray pleaded with Merse to find a lookie-likey for the cameras. On googling Ray Parlour, a small photo of McConaghey appeared on the 53rd page. Using his extensive phone book of contacts, Merse managed to find McConaghey's number through one of Anders Limpar and Johnny Jenson's wives' neices, who McConaghey had acted with for a few test shots for acclaimed Hollywood director, Seymour Butts.

McConaghey was in London shooting an exciting promo for the Hackney tourist board, and due to the sound of gunshots and children's scream misheard 'David 'Rocky' Rocastle' for 'audition for Rocky VI'. Crowds of adoring fans outside the small chapel in Bexley Heath stood aghast as Merson rocked up in his 89-90 yellow psychedelic Arsenal away shirt and his one England cap on his head, high-fiving his way along the avenue of mourners with Matthew McConaghey oiled to maximum, dressed in boxing gloves and very tiny gold shorts.

During the ceremony Paul Davis gave a heartfelt eulogy, saying: 'He was much loved and respected throughout the football world and will be fondly remembered by everyone who knew him. There's not many people who have the privilege of having that respect from the fans at Arsenal." To which, George Graham consoled Adams, Bould and Lineghan in his great Scottish biceps whilst the rest of the congregation nodded in stern agreement, offering smiles and support to those around them as their tear ducts secreted another salty offering.

In the silence that ensued an American voice was heard to proclaim 'this is some pretty emotional stuff, very ying to my yang. But who am I going to fight if Rocky's kicked it?'. Merson took the lectern next and just said; 'he was an alright bloke, I liked him. Who do I see about getting that 20 boys back? Sandra (Rocastle)?', on which everyone let out a cathartic laugh. Merson stood there slowly gaining in anger as he waited the response.