Welcome, dear reader, to the world of Perspective!

If you’re into football, you’re really gonna enjoy this one. Let’s take a dive into the world of these young men and women, and all the craziness surrounding them!

“What’s good, mandem and gyaldem! Welcome to your favourite Youtube sports banter show – You Alright, Cuz. As always, it’s your boy, Mickey, along with my cousins, Donald and Simba, and this is the official end of season review. We’re wrapping up a wild Premier League season, and boy, do we have some tings to unpack…”

Another day of activity in the Perspective studio, with another exciting YouTube episode starting up. The studio layout was spectacular as always, decked out with football memorabilia—scarves, signed jerseys, and a massive screen in the background flashing highlights from the season. Vibrant kente cloth patterns could also be found on the backdrop, with a Ghanaian flag tucked in the corner, and a sleek “Perspective” logo glowing in neon.

The three cousins, Mickey Aikins, Donald Reindorf, and Simba Abbey, were seated around a circular table littered with football scarves and a Premier League replica trophy. Mickey, a slim young man with a head full of dreadlocks, wore his favourite West Ham claret-and-blue snapback, adjusting his mic as he sat up, grinning at his cousins and co-hosts.

Donald, sporting a Tottenham Hotspur tracksuit, grinned back at Mickey, practically vibrating with excitement. Simba, the Manchester United fan, was slouched in his chair, arms crossed, his red United cap tilted low over his eyes.

“So, yeah, the season is over,” Mickey continued, crossing his legs leisurely, “and of course, Liverpool won the league. I mean, bare man knew they were gonna win since January; they’ve been on smoke when it mattered. Fair play to them, I can’t lie. Nobody expected them to even challenge for the title after Klopp left, but hey, they did it. TMA, fair play to you, brother. At the other end of the table? Southampton, Leicester City and Ipswich Town all went back down. Yeah, no shocks there. They were all shit. I swear down, watching Leicester this season was like allowing someone to scratch your eyeballs with safety pins; it was jarring, bruv.”

“Yeah, no doubt about that, they were just atrocious,” Simba murmured in agreement.

“Way too atrocious. Anyways, a tiny little overview there. Donald, my brada, you’re looking like you just won the lottery. How you holdin’ up, cuz?”

Donald sat up excitedly. “Issa cloud nine ting, innit? Tottenham lifted the Europa League trophy, and my year is officially made! We’re champions of Europe—well, the fun half of Europe, anyway! We did it! Yeah, we were absolute shit in the Premier League, I’m not denying that, but we won a trophy! After seventeen years! Bruv, I’m freaking buzzing right now! And to all you Arsenal mandem, you can hold that, you pussios! Ash Clovez, hold that!”

Mickey laughed out loud while Simba smirked lightly. They knew it was coming: a grand cooking of Arsenal fans. The moment Tottenham won the trophy, they knew Ash Clovez, one of Perspective’s many panelists, and other Arsenal fans would get a rollicking from Donald, who had been on the end of many trolling sessions from them.

Donald rubbed his hands  like a chef preparing a meal. “Yep, you lot know what time it is. Time to cook all them Arsenal fans!”

Mickey nodded excitedly. “Oh, I’m all in for this. Arsenal fans been chattin’ bare nonsense all season, actin’ like they’re Barcelona 2.0 or some shit like that. Go on, Donald, give ‘em the business. You know this Hammer’s lovin’ any Arsenal slander!”

“Bruv, these Gooners been chatting shit all season, yeah? Talking about ‘We’re scary, we’re the best team in Europe’ Are you taking the piss? You lot think you’re the best in Europe? Like we didn’t see Inter and Barcelona play out one of the greatest semi-finals in history? Like we didn’t see PSG fist you up with ease? Get outta here, bruv. While you lot be chatting bare shit, your trophy cabinet’s still collecting dust! You don’t win nothing, yet your mouths run like you’ve been as successful as Real Madrid in the last five years. Nah, fam, no Arsenal fan can trash-talk Spurs anymore. We’re out here winning silverware, and they’re out here trying to win arguments on X! Hold that!”

Mickey giggled uncontrollably while Simba, arms crossed, couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. As butthurt as he was about his team losing to Spurs in the final, he couldn’t deny this cooking session was sweet to witness.

Donald now pointed to the camera, fully in his element. “Listen, Ash Clovez, you and your fellow Gooners need to stay humble, eh? Erling Haaland told you lot, but you didn’t listen, yeah? You beat Real Madrid and Man City and thought that’s all there is to it. I’m sorry, guys, it means fuck all if you’re not winning trophies. Always out here shouting about ‘ trust the process’ and ‘We love super duper Mik’ and all that, but where’s the hardware? Five years of the process, and all we see is failure and ‘we’ll win everything next year’. Pathetic!

“Spurs got that Europa League shine now, and what you got? An FA Cup with a team that you man claim was full of toxic players, and a Community Shield you only played in because Man City won the league and the FA Cup! You only got to play that out of sheer luck! You lot were literally scrambling to call the Community Shield a real trophy back then, and now you wanna tell us the Europa League’s a Mickey Mouse trophy? Embarrassing! I see you in the comments, tryna come for us—stay in your lane, fam. Your club’s allergic to trophies, and I’m allergic to your nonsense!”

Mickey was in stitches at this point, with Simba also breaking his initial mood and laughing out loud. Donald had been itching to get back at Arsenal for a long time, and boy, was he going all out!

“Ohhh, these man are getting cooked!” Mickey chortled.

“It’s a proper roasting thing, bro!” Simba agreed. “Love it, though. I love it! For a team that wins nothing but chats like Real Madrid envies them, they deserve this. Every little bit of it!”

***

 Ten minutes later, it was Simba’s turn to speak, and he was on fire as well.

For a totally different reason, though.

“Manchester United’s been an absolute shambles, bro! Worst season I have ever seen in my lifetime!” he fumed, seated upright with the mic in front of him. “I mean, this is not the Manchester United I grew up loving. Far from it! It was just unacceptable. Week after week, every Tom, Dick and Harry’s beating us. I mean, it was horrendous. Just horrendous! How does Manchester United end the season in the bottom half of the table? How? If the bottom three weren’t as rubbish as they were, we could have been relegated! Shocking season! Absolutely shocking!”

Mickey leaned forward, a mischievous grin on his face. “I hear you, Simba. No doubt, United were awful this past season, but… you gotta give Ruben Amorim a bit of slack, no? Man came in mid-season after Ten Hag shit the bed, didn’t even have his own players. Ain’t that a tough gig? New manager, new system, squad’s a mess—cut him some slack, innit?”

Simba scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “Don’t even go there, Mickey. I knew that’s exactly what you were gonna do, but spare me that rubbish! Amorim didn’t have his players? Cry me a river! Look at Arne Slot at Liverpool: he walked into Anfield with a new squad, a new system, and he lifted the Premier League trophy against all the odds! Nobody expected them to do it, but they did it! Look at Hansi Flick at Barcelona. Same thing: new club, new players, and he’s just won the La Liga like it’s a stroll in the park! Don’t come with that ‘no players’ excuse. Even if they aren’t your players, you can’t tell me you have no idea how to get good results out of them. Amorim’s got no answers, chale! None!”

Mickey chuckled while glancing at Donald. That question was a very deliberate one; they both loved to taunt him with that suggestion that the Manchester United manager needed his own players to do well in the league.

“Oof, he’s comin’ for everybody! Alright, Simba, let it out. Who’s gettin’ the smoke? Lay it on us,” he urged.

“Everyone!” Simba responded instantly. “Nobody’s getting off the hook. The players, the manager, the owners… as Justice will say, everybody go collect! Let’s start with the players. Garnacho? Useless. The guy thinks he’s the second coming of Cristiano Ronaldo, yet his effort isn’t even a fraction of what the big man used to pour out in his prime. Bruno Fernandes? Captain, my foot—whining and bitching on the pitch way more than he’s winning and leading the team. And when it’s time to show up in big moments… the man goes AWOL. Look at that performance in the Europa League: an absolute shitshow! And don’t even get me started on Onana! That guy will cause someone to have a heart attack one of these days with his clownery!

“Then there’s Amorim. What were we told when he joined? Oh, he’s this tactical genius who’s done incredible things at Sporting Lisbon, but all I see is chaos. No structure, no fight, no nothing! We just get slapped up everywhere we go. The dude looks so clueless, it’s unbelievable! And as for INEOS? Sir Jim Ratcliffe? Those owners are giving serious fraud vibes. Look at Sir Jim, keeping some of these overpaid divas while making other workers redundant. Chale, it’s disgusting! United is a bloody mess right now! A bloody fucking mess!”

“Oooooh, everyone did collect!” Mickey chortled. “My man is heated right now! Alright, cuz, we feel your pain. I mean, our teams have all been pretty shit this season, but seeing United fall like that… it’s been mad. But you holdin’ out hope for next season or what?”

Simba shrugged. “Hope? Honestly, I’m running low on that. Yeah, we’ve been winning trophies and all, unlike the so-called ‘best team in Europe’, but we can’t deny they’ve papered over the cracks, and we’ve barely addressed the real issues. So right now, unless they ship out half the squad, Ratcliffe does what’s actually necessary, and Amorim finds a miracle somewhere, I dunno… I’m mentally preparing for another season of pain. But I’m still United till I die. That’s not changing any time soon. Let’s just see what open heart surgery they’ve got in store for this break, because we need it badly.”

“Alright, alright, I hear it, cuz. Fair point. Now that the season’s over, man’s gotta hope for the best.” Mickey then turned to the camera. “Well, mandem and gyaldem, you’ve heard my bruddas. Donald just served up a roasting for the ages, Simba absolutely sautéed Manchester United from top to bottom, and we’re just gettin’ started! Drop your thoughts in the comments. United fans, do you agree with Simba? Spurs fans, you feelin’ Donald’s vibe? I know you are! And Arsenal fans… yeah, maybe you lot just stay quiet for now. This is You Alright, Cuz?, and we’ll be back after this! Coz I got a lot on my chest about my team as well. For now, all I’ll say is… Julen Lopetegui, you are a pagan!”

Another day in the Perspective studio, with another episode of one of the YouTube channel’s popular segments in progress.

Well, this looks like a pretty good intro to these cousins! I don’t think Arsenal fans will like these guys, but hey, it is what it is. Looking forward to seeing more of them…