Dear Mario,
In this crazy world you live in, someone you've never heard of or probably never meet, feels, as a Liverpool fan, that's its ok to write to you on an Internet page to say, Goodbye. But I'm here, and there you are, somewhere, preparing for the subs bench at Nice, which is nice.
But I'm writing this with real meaning when I say Ta-Ta, because you where at a club were the fans genuinely care about their team. Now I'm quite sure every fan of any team would say that, but at Liverpool, you are not a player, you are not part of the team and that means you are not part of the family. You are not one of us (and you're not welcome around at mine for tea ever, think on.)
But if you did come to mine and knock on the door and I answered, and you asked to come in as you were hungry, I would gladly let you in for something to eat (but not your agent.) I have always admired you skills on the pitch, the way you lifted your football shirt up when you scored to reveal that t-shirt saying"why always me" the way you could head a goal in whilst standing on the goal line....But if you were to start flicking peas with your knife at my Mrs bee hive hair style and start letting fireworks off and throwing darts at my son while still at my dinner table...I will say...Oi...Mario...No....Pick up your fireworks and darts and get out now, I would be seething, I really would.
Yes I know, I've side tracked a little and its highly unlikely this would happen, but if it did, I'd be hopping mad.
Anyway, in some ways Mario, goodbye.