The night Mario Balotelli made a drink of his urine
MORE on Mario Balotelli, the unmarried Manchester City striker who allegedly shagged Chloe Evans. Having said Balotelli was crap in bed (maybe it was you, Chloe?), the kiss ‘n’ teller is reported telling the Sun about the “crazy lifestyle of soccer badboy Mario Balotelli”.
The soccer badboy is a talented 21-year-old finding his feet working and living in a foreign country. Balotelli has embraced the prevailing culture by shagging tabloid-friendly English birds and allowing his bathroom to be the venue for a Bonfire Night do. The fire brigade was called and Balotelli’s friends (because it was them – really it was) would to well to read the full firework code, especially the bit about returning to a smouldering toilet roll. But, still, for the Italian Catholic import to be celebrating the death of the Papist Gunpowder Plot is admirable.
Balotelli did say that Manchester “is not to my tastes”. But no great hurt in that. Most Manchester United fans who only ever see the city’s wide open green spaces and ordered seating on the telly agree. And he can always commute from London or Abu Dhabi.
It’s our position that Mario Balotelli is a good boy?
But back in the Sun, Balotelli is a “love rat” who was “cheating on his girlfriend [ Raffaella Fico] with a pretty blonde”. We don’t know if Balotelli is cheating because he and Fico have yet to speak. The illiberal Sun just makes the allegation and the judgement.
But, at least Evans is pretty and blonde. If the lover were ginger or in her 30s, then Mario really would be bonkers.
Gorgeous Chloe Evans recalled: “Being with him was like being in a circus — and I was his favourite clown.”
We’re not sure if pneumatic Chloe can see her feet, nor if Jimmy Choo does a size 56 boot. Says Chloe, who did a bracelet (she values at £15k) and two dogs, (she values at £850 each). Says Chloe – and what price her testimony?
“Imagine a cross between Willy Wonka, Michael Jackson and Peter Pan — and you’ve got Mario Balotelli.”
Let’s imagine. And then let’s imagine having sex with this showbiz chimera. We see Chloe covered in melted KitKats, while Mario talks about fairies in a high-pitched voice. Still, whatever turns you on, Chloe:
“There’s nobody else like him in the whole world.”
Well, Jackson is dead, and Wonker and Pan were made up. So. Chloe must be right. Unless Chloe needs to get out more.
“It’s like being in the best Disney film you’ve ever seen. The fantasy, fun and action just never seem to stop.”
Hands up whose seen a Disney film where the Prince shags the budding model, while Cinders is out of town? Of course, as we say, Mario is not married, so this is more a prelude to Cinderella than the sequel.
Chloe then goes on to add grist to the mill that Mario is just doing his best to blend in with his vision of what British men behave like – a vision based on a weekend in Ibiza or a Stag night:
Chloe: “About the only thing he didn’t do was to throw a foam pie in my face….he would chase me and pull my knickers into a wedgie. Once he pulled my pants so hard, they tore in half.”
Chloe: “He called me silly names like Barbie, or weirdo.”
Chloe: “One night Mario told his brother Enoch he’d pay him £5,000 if he drank his wee. Enoch said he would, so Mario went off, weed in a glass and passed it to Enoch. He took a big gulp. Everyone went ‘Yuk’ — but Mario thought it was a riot. I asked Enoch if Mario gave him the cash and he said yes. They thought it was so funny.”
Chloe: “Another night we went for a meal and he threw a lobster right at my head, claws and all. I screamed. But everyone fell about in stitches — and eventually I had to see the funny side. Who else would do something like that?”
Who else? Every British lad on holiday. That’s who else.
Mariao Balotelli. He’s not mad. He’s just trying to fit in….