None of it was true, apparently. All those stories of his eccentric largesse, the tales of chucking money from the windows of his camouflage Bentley, of paying for a bunch of homeless guys to stay at Manchester’s five-star Lowry hotel over Christmas, of handing over his winnings on the roulette table to a chap begging outside the casino (more than a grand was the story): they were all fabricated. Mario Balotelli wasn’t quite the batty philanthropist of wider imagining.
It makes you wonder, though, if he wasn’t spending his time driving round the city endlessly trying to part with some of his
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