The caption is right. The caption does not lie. This is a Snapchat of Roberto Martinez, manager of a great English footballing institution, Everton, declaring bankruptcy on the coordination of each of his limbs at a Jason Derulo concert. I have watched this video so much, I can't cope without it. I have stopped watching it to write this, but I am still listening to it in the background. I need these sounds now, they are part of me, like the faint beep on a heart monitor.First, let’s talk about Roberto Martinez. There is no other Premier League manager that would celebrate a fairly routine 3-0 win over a pisspoor Newcastle side by cutting 2004 MTV base shapes to Jason Derulo at a large Manchester venue. Sam Allardyce? He’d just bang 4,546 pints of frothing lukewarm chestnut ales in the “Goose & Casual Xenophobia” round the corner. Alan Pardew? You know, you just know, that he’d be Snapchatted leaving a Croydon massage parlour at 5am with a comically loosened tie and upturned collar. Manuel Pellegrini? Probably a Vine of him dignifiedly telling the cameraman to stop filming him as he reads the FT. But Roberto? Ahh, Roberto.Work it Roberto. Work it baby. pic.twitter.com/HZkyS2Cj8Z— Copa90 (@Copa90)February 5, 2016Now, let’s talk about the dance itself, some sort of magical hybrid of “Drop It Like It’s Hot” era Snoop Dogg, and Limmy’s “Eccied Dad” sketch. It is summit of culture, one that transcends genres and styles. You can keep your Schmoney dance, you can carry on with your dab. We in Britain, we have the ‘Roberto’, and it is already sweeping across our fair isles, causing news reporters to bust out the reverse SUV manouevre like it’s 2004. Expect to see it in Fabric tonight. Expect to see it at the all grime raves. It will be in Craig David's next video.Finally, let’s talk about the girl in the video around 6 seconds in. At around my 346th watch of the video, I couldn’t help but ponder her role in this. Someone off camera is trying to engage her in a swampily detailed discussion on the respective merits of the Derulo oeuvre. Bored, she’s turned around to look once, then twice, and quickly become transfixed by the unvarnished prospect of a man popping what would soon become known as the 'Roberto', but she doesn’t know who he is. Could it be… Could it be her dad? He mumbled something about, "Live music. Pints.” before he left the house reeking of Lacoste Red and expectation. In the final seconds of the video, she is literally frozen in bewilderment. It’s ok, lady, it’s not your Dad, it’s just Roberto Martinez. Just Roberto Martinez doing the ‘Roberto’.Alas, there is no other Premier League manager that would pop his joints so hard to “Whatcha Say” that a bouncer would have to compassionately offer a gratefully received plastic tumbler of water. Please never change, Mr Martinez. The hopes of every aftershave soaked Dad in the country rest on your brittle yet flexible shoulders.You can follow Francisco on Twitter.
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