In 2016, politics became the new sport – something that everyone suddenly became interested in and followed closely.
Then he became involved in a new sport. Then virology, followed by despair, then bread, then real estate. With the world accelerating, we get a new sport every two weeks. Two weeks ago, the new sports were celebrity court cases.
But now, finally, things are starting to turn again – celebrity court cases around sports are the new sport.
As we in North America continue to roll into sordid mayhem as Johnny Depp vs. Amber Heard, Britain’s got a frothy and fun libel case in the spring.
Rebecca Vardy (wife of English footballer Jimmy) against Colin Rooney (wife of English potato farmer Wayne) got it all. Bold names, online stings, hacked phones, the daily wardrobe dance, and a man-made puddle are undoubtedly worth the tears in the real world.
Wide kicks: Colin Rooney is the one time and future football queen of England (wives and girlfriends). With Rooney’s athletic husband on the decline, Rebecca Vardy covets her crown.
Vardy tried to get warm with Ronnie. Ronnie brought her to her, but kept her away.
When Rooney’s intimate work began to find its way into the tabloids, she became suspicious. In the end, these doubts reached Vardy, who managed to gain access to her own Instagram account.
Ronnie planted a series of made-up stories there. I fixed its settings so that only Vardy can see it. I began to hear a response about them from reporters seeking comment. Finally, in a style reminiscent of Poirot, Rooney revealed the results of her investigation on Instagram.
No gossip that occurs can spoil the public consciousness until she is given the title of great. Rooney vs. Vardy got one of the best – the “Wagata Christi” case.
A good attorney knows there are two rules for a civil lawsuit – you can sue anyone for anything; And unless you enjoy the pain, you shouldn’t sue anyone. So Vardy sued.
For the past two weeks in court, the result has been the public sacrifice of Vardy. Unless she had a petard, she couldn’t be more than that.
As usual these days, the problem is the phones. Memory is resilient, but the cloud is never forgotten. A massive throwing of Vardy’s private text correspondence forms the backbone of Rooney’s defence.
Most of the texts are WhatsApp exchanges between Vardy and her agent and an apparent break with the press, Caroline Watt.
In their conversation, the pair discuss leaking stories to the yellow shirts about Jimmy’s co-workers. In one instance, after Watt gave details about a teammate’s arrest while driving under the influence, Vardy said: “I want to pay for this.”
The pair rejoiced at calling Ronnie by unprintable names. They are beaten up by Ronnie revealing that she has been betrayed by someone she trusts. Bear Watt: “And you didn’t trust someone. It was me (smiley face).”
Rooney’s team asserts that many other incriminating texts have been deleted or destroyed. Despite Watt’s warning not to stick to the case, Watt “lost” her phone on a boat trip.
During questioning, Rooney’s lawyer lamented that Watt’s phone and any evidence it contained were now “lying at the bottom of the sea in Davy Jones’ locker.”
Who is Davy Jones? Vardy asked.
Inevitably, the couple was dragged into it. A British football official told the court how Vardy and a group of her escorts had intimidated her from her seats at a football match in England. Vardy wanted to sit right behind Rooney, apparently so the cameras could catch them both.
Wayne Rooney testified that as captain of the team, the managers told him to talk to Jamie Vardy about his wife. “Calm her down” was the unfortunate phrase used. Vardy denied the conversation took place, which means that the infection will continue to spread through the English football team. Who said what to whom? And who is to blame? And how did Jamie Vardy show his face in England uniforms again? This is why you never sue.
The Vardy family is in a PR free fall, but no one looks more miserable than Wayne Rooney.
Every day, he comes to court in a two-size-over tiny jumpsuit. He’s only 36 years old, but he seems to have spent every one of those years standing in a strong wind.
During his playing days, Rooney’s extramarital assaults were legendary. Several of them were confirmed and rephrased in court while Rooney sat on the benches. It is a rare case of finding full justice in the courtroom.
Every great story needs a hero and Colin Rooney is the same. In her testimony, she appears as a person of great sense (except, perhaps, for her romantic pickers). While Vardy repeatedly collapses in floods of tears, Ronnie is resolute.
“I’ve never craved journalism in my life,” Rooney said in his testimony. “I got it and kissed it and tried to deal with it.”
She really seems to be the white elephant of modern daring face names – someone too famous doesn’t care about being famous.
And appearance is all that matters here. The same newspapers that I have bashed for years are now climbing themselves to appoint Colin Rooney as Archbishop of British Virtue and Deception. If Britain is in a state of final decline, there is at least one person who still has a little Winston Churchill.
On Wednesday, court recess. Final arguments will begin on Thursday. Judgment will not be issued for some time, but we already know who won and who lost.
The audience will taunt the injured and cheer the hero. Within days, they’ll forget everything that happened here apart from the finer details (if you want to know more, Google “miniature chipolata”). And in 10 years, they will make a documentary about it.
Just like sports. But unlike politics, it’s cheap and fun.