Everton and Apple Pips
To the Editor,
I write to you today in a state of complete bewilderment, as two seemingly unrelated but equally perplexing events have left me questioning the very fabric of reality. First, the news that Everton Football Club are, once again, on the hunt for a new manager after parting ways with Sean Dyche. And second, the fact that I dropped an apple pip on my kitchen floor this morning, and no matter how hard I search, I simply cannot find it.
Now, let’s address the Everton saga. It seems the club changes managers more often than I change my socks, which is saying something, as laundry day in my house is often postponed until socks have reached the point of no return. Poor Sean Dyche — it feels like only yesterday he arrived, gravelly voice and all, promising to turn things around. But now he’s gone, and Everton’s revolving managerial door spins on, a blur of ambition, chaos, and questionable tactics.
Meanwhile, back in my kitchen, the disappearance of the apple pip has thrown my morning into disarray. I dropped it, clear as day, watched it bounce once, maybe twice, and now—nothing. It’s vanished, as if plucked from this dimension by some mysterious pip thief. I’ve checked under the table, between the tiles, and even in my slippers, but it’s nowhere to be found. Could this be an omen? A metaphor for Everton’s elusive success, perhaps?
Or, and here’s a thought that troubles me deeply, could these two mysteries be connected? Is it possible that the same chaotic energy causing Everton to lose managers at such an alarming rate has somehow migrated to my home, sabotaging my ability to keep track of small fruit seeds? Or perhaps the apple pip, like Everton’s managerial stability, has simply rolled away, never to be seen again.
Of course, I’m not suggesting that Everton should hire me as their new manager (although I’ve watched enough Match of the Day to know a 4-4-2 when I see one), but I can’t help but feel we’re both facing similar struggles. They need a leader who can steady the ship, and I need a strategy to locate that rogue pip before it sprouts a small orchard under my kitchen floorboards.
Until then, I remain baffled by both the club’s fortunes and my own. If anyone in Darlington happens to stumble across an apple pip (or a world-class football manager willing to take on a challenge), do let me know.
Yours, lost in thought and kitchen crumbs,
Albert Pippinsworth
(Concerned Everton observer and accidental horticulturist)