call him up and say, ” Listen Chops, what are you playing at, for the love of the Holy Mother of Sweet Baby Jesus??!!” And I wouldn’t actually give him a chance to answer, continuing, “What happened the last time you bit your Uncle Jose at the family barbecue in May, hey, remember?? Hm, hm?” …….
“No, after Uncle José, took a dive, and tried to get you sent off. That’s right, I bit you, didn’t I? And it hurt, didn’t it? And you cried a little bit, didn’t you?”
“The first time I did it was when you were two (normal age of biteage and gnashing), and every time you’ve done it since, you promised it was the last time.
Now, you listen to your Aunty Anne, young (over – privileged, overpaid, over-worshipped, stroppy, childish) man; you apologise properly, you apologise right now. There are children watching their football heroes, all around the world, and they do not need to see this type of terrible behaviour from you, and they don’t need to hear that, ‘these kinds of things happen on the pitch’, because they only seem to happen on the pitch when you and your out of control gnashers are in the vicinity. ”
“I’m very disappointed in you.”
And when he finally got home, I’d sit him down and do a lot of finger wagging.
Which would be a pretty risky thing to do, all things considered.