Why a good transfer is like pulling a fit bird

This Doyle saga is starting to do my head in, and it's only been a day since the news officially broke.

I don't know about you guys, but it feels like securing a good quality transfer has much in common with pulling a fit bird.
My rationale for this? You put in lots of groundwork, pay the girl lots of compliments, and lavish her with the things she wants to hear.
It can be a patient game, waiting for the one you want, (as I can testify personally as I waited 3 years to finally grind down my wife-to-be back at uni.)
So with all that effort, you are still never guaranteed to get the girl, as you can't read her damned mind. And then, at the crucial moment, some fat headed, considerably more handsome man comes in and stamps on your erection.
He is generally loathsome, but has some aesthetic qualities that you struggle to compete with.

And here we have Kevin Doyle, being chased by Wolves, a club with moderate to good appearance, medium build, with a lovely thatch and a great social circle.
But alas, Everton, Villa et al, prowl the dancefloor, and offer a better time with fatter cocks, deeper wallets and the promise of passionate weekends away in Europe.

Hmm, time will tell.

From my experience, getting the girl hammered is the best bet. She doesn't know what's happening and would hardly feel a thing.
With that in mind, get Super Kev into Waggy's bar (or whatever it's now called), get him hammered on potcheen and Guinness (or whatever the Irish fella drinks) and get him to sign on the line before its too late.

Come on Jez, get the round in!