Let it be know that Matty Johns has leaked the lizard on his former employer and workmate from a bloody great height.

This week he’s given the full flush to ‘The Footy Show’ and more notably his former comic colleague Paul ‘Fatman’ Vautin.

I was under the impression this pair were inseparable clowns, albeit their recent lack of collaborative work on a textbook arse or titty joke since Johns left Channel Nine.

Remember when Vautin propped him up when he found himself in the midst of a substantial sex scandal poo-storm?

It was a brother helping a brother out of a bungled bun from days of yore. Something that brought the two boofheads closer together.

Nevertheless, it doesn’t seem that this earned enough buddy credit points for Johns to see past Vautin’s antiquated humour and take the plunge by rejoining the Thursday night round table of obnoxious ranga head-wobbling and recycled innuendo.

Matt Johns holding a trophy of Paul Vautin who is holding a Logie.

The recent right-hand man of Johns, the fat-pocketed amber baron John Singleton, took a sledgehammer approach when informing the public of the intricate industry-specifics of why Fatty was given the ‘don’t argue.’

“There’s no more over-rated footballer in the history of football than Fatty Vautin and no more over-rated coach”

“He was an average footballer, he’s an average TV talent, but he has been lucky and good luck to him.”

Everyone clear on that?

The good oil is that the cabbage was being wildly flung by Channel Nine also, with a loose figure of $400k a year being bandied around as the bait to the former playmaker to come back and wear a dress on a weekly basis in the name of footy larrikinism.

Johns has built himself a recent reputation that seems to be slowly drifting away from the early 1990’s prototype of television’s retired footballer, where a man could string together a few segments of analysis before getting starkers and then picking up his cheque.

The drivers behind him refusing the small island that Nine are offering up seem to be his desire to steer the program away from fart gags and towards genuine footy chat as well as Fatty’s refusal to depart 1986.

But who thinks that any program about rugby league that hits the airwaves post-dusk will ever contain anything other than primate humour, boy’s club sexism and a maximum of 3 minutes of content that actually refers to footy?

Don’t try to reinvent the wheel Matty. Blow up some balloons, put them down your shirt as fake boobies, apply the mascara and take the cash.