TYSON FURY THE CLOWN

He was always an oaf.

He was always a big puffed-out walking anus.

He was always a jerk.

He was always a dumb, pompous, dirt-level douchebag.

He was always nothing but a CLOWN.

His name was even ridiculous. TYSON FURY. Really?

It was a sham. He was named for Mike Tyson but he ain't black.

As for that last name, it should've been Fuckhead. Tyson Fuckhead. Maybe Tyson Fairy. Or Tyson Freakface.

Fortunately, or not, the lummox grew to an impossible height, which made him seem like he could have a career pushing around smaller guys. Except a smaller guy named Steve Cunningham nearly knocked the stinking haggis out of Tyson Fury's skull.

At this point, the world knows this guy is just a clown.

From idiotic singing in the ring, and Pro-Wrestler-level insults, the brawling bone-headed Yob yammered and postured and barely managed to push and shove his way through inept competition. He made his sport into a circus.

His clowning got him a championship fight with a guy over ten years older, who had run out of credible opponents. Training lightly, and not wanting to push his nearly 40 year-old body into trying to KO a huge slab of shit like Tyson Fury, Klitschko ended up slumbering to a decision loss.

Then what? The rematch kept getting postponed, with The Clown pulling his faces and making his excuses. September 12th? No, sprained ankle. Ready to come and announce a new date? Ooops, no, the car broke down. No other car, limo or taxi in the world. Postpone the announcement. How about OCtober 29th? Trick or treat! Can't make it. Unspecified mood. Not up for a fight at the moment, sorry. Try again.

Meanwhile a past master at clowning, David Haye, was telling the world Tyson Fury was simply fat. He was saying Tyson Fury the clown was such a hippo, he couldn't last a round or two before falling over in sweaty exhaustion.

The Clown got his wish. The fight was called off for good thanks to the tosser having cocaine in his piss.

That's when he suddenly got comical and roared that boxing is shit (what, for drug testing?) and the "medea" (media) was crap. Like any bully, from the safety of NOT having to fight, he declared he was a "GYPSY KING" who was THE GREATEST. Yes, "THE GREATEST" was what he called himself, once he didn't have any belts or any upcoming fight. Suddenly the guy who was not talking to anyone and suffering some kind of brain fart, was being his old clown self, shouting insult jokes and drooling his surly grin. Without having to face anyone in a ring, the clown was suddenly declaring himself the baddest man on the planet; indestructible, mentally tough, and certainly the epitome of Der Master Race, unlike some Jew, woman or transsexual.

IF I'M BEING HONEST, British Heavyweight Boxing no longer needs a clown. Not Dereck Chisora, not David Haye, not Tyson Fury.

The future of British Heavyweight Boxing is Anthony Joshua, a class act who doesn't insult, doesn't wear costumes in the ring, isn't always bitching and moaning about minor injuries, and doesn't try to steal the spotlight by showing up at other boxers' matches to brag and bawl with ridiculous posturing and childish bragging.

Tyson Fury is a CLOWN. If he wants to amuse, he can get hired for a circus and the crowd can laugh as he stuffs himself up the hole in the elephant's bottom.