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Yaya Toure is supposedly very upset about the way Manchester City treated his recent birthday. Apparently two cakes, the birthday song and an official tweet wasn't enough to meet his standards of birthday celebration, so his agent is now threatening to demand a transfer over this perceived show of disrespect. So what exactly was Toure looking for in a birthday party? Well, he was kind enough to provide us with his strict guidelines...
Guest List: My brother Kolo and his adulterous, shower-dwelling, car salesman alter-ego Francois must be sent separate invitations. Also, Samir Nasri can be anywhere except sitting right next to me because all he does is complain and he will almost certainly ruin my special day. Again. The presence of Sheikh Mansour is also required and if he disinterestedly checks his phone once I will loudly declare that "everything is ruined!!!!!!!" and then slam the nearest door as hard as I can.
Location: Inside a bouncy castle. This is not negotiable.
Refreshments: There must be at least four cakes — one vanilla cake, one chocolate cake, one ice cream cake and one mystery cake (maybe tiramisu? I don't know — don't ask me — it's supposed to be a mystery). They all must say "Happy birthday Yaya! It is your birthday and we are officially recognizing that fact with these intentionally designated birthday cakes!" The cakes must also be notarized. If the candles on the cakes are those novelty ones that are impossible to blow out, so help me I will leave the club right then and there.
Presents: Only humorous birthday cards with no less than £45 million in cash (Amazon gift cards also acceptable) stuffed inside and nothing else. If I don't so much as release an audible rush of air from my nose upon reading the card, all of the money inside will be burned on the spot and a second attempt to amuse me must be made immediately.
Etiquette: Do not mention my age! I'm 31 and that's just two years younger than Samuel Eto'o pretends to be. I don't need to be reminded of this. Every single person in attendance must also shake my hand once upon arriving, once upon leaving, and once at a moment intended to surprise and delight me during the party. Handshakes that are weak, sweaty or go on for an odd length of time will be grounds for a transfer request and a publicly shaming use of hand sanitizer.*
Accessories: This is a black tie and onesie event. I must be provided with a hand-crafted cardboard Burger King crown (no substitutes) to wear at my discretion. James Milner must act as my personal butler during the event because, come on, the guy just looks like a butler and everyone knows it.
General requirements: The club must not win the league title. Those celebrations inevitably encroach on and distract from my birthday festivities, which are obviously far more important. There are also a multitude of other very specific and bizarre demands and it will upset me greatly if they are not met, but I will keep them a secret and reserve the right to feel gravely offended even if they are somehow all achieved despite the fact that I have no idea what they are yet.
Brooks Peck is the editor of Dirty Tackle on Yahoo Sports. Have a tip? Email him or follow on Twitter! Follow @BrooksDT
Guest List: My brother Kolo and his adulterous, shower-dwelling, car salesman alter-ego Francois must be sent separate invitations. Also, Samir Nasri can be anywhere except sitting right next to me because all he does is complain and he will almost certainly ruin my special day. Again. The presence of Sheikh Mansour is also required and if he disinterestedly checks his phone once I will loudly declare that "everything is ruined!!!!!!!" and then slam the nearest door as hard as I can.
Location: Inside a bouncy castle. This is not negotiable.
Refreshments: There must be at least four cakes — one vanilla cake, one chocolate cake, one ice cream cake and one mystery cake (maybe tiramisu? I don't know — don't ask me — it's supposed to be a mystery). They all must say "Happy birthday Yaya! It is your birthday and we are officially recognizing that fact with these intentionally designated birthday cakes!" The cakes must also be notarized. If the candles on the cakes are those novelty ones that are impossible to blow out, so help me I will leave the club right then and there.
Presents: Only humorous birthday cards with no less than £45 million in cash (Amazon gift cards also acceptable) stuffed inside and nothing else. If I don't so much as release an audible rush of air from my nose upon reading the card, all of the money inside will be burned on the spot and a second attempt to amuse me must be made immediately.
Etiquette: Do not mention my age! I'm 31 and that's just two years younger than Samuel Eto'o pretends to be. I don't need to be reminded of this. Every single person in attendance must also shake my hand once upon arriving, once upon leaving, and once at a moment intended to surprise and delight me during the party. Handshakes that are weak, sweaty or go on for an odd length of time will be grounds for a transfer request and a publicly shaming use of hand sanitizer.*
Accessories: This is a black tie and onesie event. I must be provided with a hand-crafted cardboard Burger King crown (no substitutes) to wear at my discretion. James Milner must act as my personal butler during the event because, come on, the guy just looks like a butler and everyone knows it.
General requirements: The club must not win the league title. Those celebrations inevitably encroach on and distract from my birthday festivities, which are obviously far more important. There are also a multitude of other very specific and bizarre demands and it will upset me greatly if they are not met, but I will keep them a secret and reserve the right to feel gravely offended even if they are somehow all achieved despite the fact that I have no idea what they are yet.
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