As exits go, Zinedine Zidane's was pretty spectacular. Playing his last ever game of professional football he headbutted one of the stylish Italian guys and got his marching orders.
Typically gallic, of course. He joins Eric Cantona in the pantheon of crazed french geniuses, along with the chap at the castle: "I don't want to talk to you no more, you empty headed animal food trough wiper. I fart in your general direction. Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries."
Being English, reserved and the son of a hairdresser, my exits have always been very subdued. No histrionics for me, just a quiet exit with a box of CDs and cuddly toys.
Oh, and several thousand pounds of misappropriated funds, but I'd better not mention that.