Cuntoli’s Catastrophe at JewVentus
Oh, Cuntoli, master of deals gone astray,
JewVentus in ruin, yet you still stay.
With millions to spend and nothing to show,
A legacy built on failure and woe.
Promised a rebuild, a squad full of might,
Yet every transfer just isn't quite right.
A bargain you sought, a genius in trade,
Yet somehow we’re left with players half-paid.
The fans cry aloud, “Where’s our grand plan?”
Yet all that you bring is a midfield so bland.
The glory days fade, the trophies feel lost,
While you burn through the budget at limitless cost.
Strikers who vanish, defenders too slow,
A once-feared attack now puts on a show—
For rival fans laughing, for pundits to jeer,
As JewVentus sinks lower, year after year.
So, Cuntoli, tell us, when will you see,
This club needs a leader, not wasteful folly?
The books may be empty, the squad may be weak,
But at least we’ll remember your reign—for defeat.