Thursday 31 December 2009

FA Cup 3rd Rd: Blackburn

*The lads are preparing for their FA Cup clash against Blackburn*

MON: OK lads, I myself have played in many a semi-final, they're nothing to be scared of.

*Young raises his hand*

MON: Ashley?

A.Young: Boss this is the FA Cup round three match.

MON: I think you'll find we're playing Blackburn Ashley. I'll thank you not to ....

*MON shuffles through his notes*

MON: .... So round three of the greatest ever cup competition, except the European Cup of course back when it was about proper champions, back in the days where men were men and ....

Milner: I bet cha dinnae play in tha snoor like us boss like.

MON: Snow? Snow? There was none of this undersoil heating nonsense. We played in four feet of snow, barefoot, with house bricks for balls.

Carew: Well they would be boss.

MON: No, I meant instead of footballs. The amount of long ball related deaths was phenomenal.

Friedel: Is that why we always play the long ball now?

MON: Yes (MON wipes a tear) in memory of players we lost. John Robertson took a long ball to the head in a final once, his death hit me so hard.

Robertson: I'm here Martin, I'm still alive!

MON: In our hearts John, in our hearts.

Robertson: No, I'm not dead, look I'm right here.

MON: If John was with us now he'd be so proud of what I've gone on to achieve.

Robertson: What're you talking about!? I'm stood right here. Someone tell him that I'm alive.

*Robertson looks pleadingly at the players*

Delph: I don't know ..... If Mr. Martin says you're dead how can we tell you're not?

*The players nod in agreement with Delph's logic*

Robertson: Because I'm alive! Look I'm alive!

*John Robertson does a dance at the front of the dressing room, Heskey cries into Downing's shoulder*

Heskey: It's so sad.

MON: It is Emile, it is. So go out there and win, for Robbo!

All the lads: For Robbo!

Thursday 24 December 2009

Weekend at Benni's

MON has signed Benni McCarthy from Blackburn Rovers, a player who many had thought had died.

The signing:

*Big Sam has dropped off Benni McCarthy in MON's office MON has talked about the club, the fans, training facilities and his own illustrious football history*

MON: So Benni, any questions about the club?

*Benni sits in silence, the sunglasses he was wearing slide off his face*

MON: Not much of a talker or blinker are you Benni? Big Sam had said that of you, not to worry though there's more than enough character in our dressing room.

*Benni's leans forward slowly and his face slams off MON's desk*

MON: Tired are you? Well it has been a long day of talks, you get some rest and I'll introduce to the lads tomorrow.


.......


In the Dressing Room:

MON: Everyone this is our new signing Benni McCarthy

All the Lads: Hi Benni!

*Young raises his hand*

MON: Yes Ashley?

Young: Boss, I don't think he's ..... I think that he's dead.

*McCarthy slumps and falls of his chair.*

MON: Now look what you've done you've upset Benni! He's not dead, Big Sam just preferred Samba and he's not been featured in the Rovers set up for a while.

Young: Look he's not moving, he stinks and he's a bit green.

MON: He's just a little nervous and nauseous Ashley, give him time to settle in.


.......

Season end:

MON: .... And the player's player of the season is .... Benni McCarthy!

*All the lads cheer "Benni! Benni! Benni!", MON approaches McCarthy with the microphone*

MON: A fantastic return 20 goals in so few games what have you got to say about your record and winning the award Benni?

*MON holds the mic to Benni McCarthy, he sits motionless and silent*

MON: He lets the goals do the talking lads!

*The lads all laugh and cheer again*

Sunday 20 December 2009

Match 18: Stoke City

*We join the lads gearing up for their match against Stoke City*

MON: OK lads, we faltered last season in this match, not this time though I have a .....

*The door is knocked with panic, MON answers the door, it's James Beattie*

Beattie: er...Hello Martin, how are you?

MON: I'm fine thank you James .... Why are you knocking our dressing room door .... and in your underpants?

Beattie: Oh, I, er ....

Pulis: BEATTIE!?!?!

Beattie: Can I come in and sit with your team Martin please?

MON: No, and I think I can hear your manager calling you.

Beattie: Nah, I think that was just the stadium announcer testing.

Pulis: BEEEEAAAAATTIE!?!?!

MON: I'm pretty sure that's Tony. He's calling you, I'd get back to your dressing room.

*Beattie forces his way into the Villa dressing room pointing at a picture on the wall*

Beattie (nervously): Oh what a lovely picture, is that you Martin?

MON: As a matter of fact it is, that's me winning the European Cup with Nottingham Forest I keep it up in the dressing room to inspire the team to be winners and remind everyone how magnificent I am.

Beattie: Wow really, was it good .... winning the final?

MON: Yes, I mean I won it almost single handedly of course, it was a great day for me.

Beattie: Score all the goals did you?

MON: Well no but ....Wait a minute what are you doing? Is this some kind of diversionary tactic?

*the door knocks, MON answers it, it's Tony Pulis, he's smiling politely*

Pulis: Oh, hello Martin ... Have you seen ..... Ah James there you are I've been looking all over for you.

Beattie: Oh ... Have you boss? Sorry I didn't realise.

*Pulis puts an arm around Beattie and walks him to the door*

Pulis: He's not been causing you any trouble has he Martin? Because if he has.

*Pulis jokingly waves his fist whilst grinning, Beattie is shaking*

MON: No, no Tony we were just having a chat.

Pulis: Ah the little scamp, come along now James we need to talk.

Beattie: OK .... Boss (gulp!)

*Pulis leads Beattie out of the door, Beattie looks over his shoulder and mouths the words "help me" before the door closes. MON turns back to the lads*

MON: What a lovely lad that James is, you could all learn from his interest in football history and is there any manager who shows more concern for his players than Tony? What nice fellas this Stoke lot are.

Thursday 17 December 2009

Match 17: Post Sunderland

*We join the lads celebrating yet another victory*

MON: Excellent lads, excellent. Now before I go on to tell you about ....

*MON is interrupted by an odd noise, he casts his gaze over the players most of which look confused or are shrugging their shoulders*

MON: Hmmm, anyway we're showing good form, I'm proud of the lot of you, especially you young Jim, what a cracking hit, the referee was right to award you with the gold card of merit.

Milner: It were a yellow card .... For fouling boss

MON: And a grand foul it was too I'm sure. Now we must stay focused on...

*MON is interrupted by the odd noise again. The door knocks, MON opens it to Steve Bruce*

MON: Steve ... Are you alright?

*Bruce looks incredibly worried and quite pale*

Bruce: Martin, you've not seen ma Darren Bent have ya like? I've not seen him since just after kick-off.

MON: I'm afraid not Steve, I shall keep my eye ....

*The odd noise gets louder*

Bruce: That's ma Darren! I'd know the sound of his muffled struggle anywhere!

*MON and Bruce track the sound down to Richard Dunne's holdall bag*

MON: What's in the bag Richard?

Dunne: Nothin' dere bass.

MON: So I'm not going to find a Sunderland striker if I unzip it?

*Dunnes eyes shift to the ground, MON unzips it, Darren Bent spits out the rolled up Villa sock in his mouth*

Bent: Boss, you saved me!

*Bruce and Bent hug*

MON: I'm sorry Steve. Richard what have I told you about kidnapping Premier League strikers!?

Dunne (still looking down): To do it bass?

MON: No Richard, NOT to do it, why must you keep embarrassing me in front of the other managers!?

*Bruce leads a crying Bent out of the Dressing Room*

MON: Nice work Richard.

Dunne: Cheers bass. What shall we do with this one?

*Dunne turns around to reveal a frowning Kenwyne Jones with his arms folded in his back pocket*

Match 17: Sunderland

*MON is jigging at the front of the dressing room Downing leans into Milner*

Downing (whispering): Does he usually jig before a match like?

Milner: Noor, he's still celebrating tha Man United match man.

MON (wiping the sweat from his brow): Phew, OK lads before I start our team talk I have a message from legendary ex-Villa manager Ron Atkinson.

Delph: Mr.Bean managed Villa?

Heskey: No, that's Rowan Atkinson.

Delph: Is he funny like Mr.Bean?

Heskey: More like Bernard Manning.

*MON opens the envelope and begins reading the message from Big Ron*

MON: "Well done boys. Congratulations on stuffing United"

*The lads look at each other proudly*

MON:"I told them sacking me for Fergie would be a mistake and look at them now! I see you have Sunderland next match, some of you may be fearful of Darren Bent, don't be, he's what I'd call ....."

*MON goes pale, screws up the message and tosses it over his shoulder.*

MON: Anyway... Who's ready to beat Sunderland!?

*The lads all cheer, Ashley Young raises his hand*

MON: Ashley?

A.Young: Boss don't we have the annoying tendancy to score wins against big teams then capitulate in matches you'd expect us to win like this one by approaching with an over confident, some would say arrogant attitude?

MON: Nonsense, Ashley we'll beat Sunderland, beat them good, we're far better than them, they don't stand a chance! I expect 20% effort and a result out there today lads!

*The lads all cheer again, Young sits back in his chair arms folded as the lads knock his head with their pre-emptive celebrations, Carew is drinking champagne from a bottle, Dunne and Cuellar are popping party popper streamers everywhere. Heskey is practicing over-zealous goal celebrations in the middle of the room and Gabby is limboing under a stick held by Downing and Milner*

Monday 14 December 2009

Match 16: Post Man Utd

*The lads are jubilant after their victory over Man Utd*

MON: Alright lads, settle down, settle down. Great performance out there. Finally we've beaten Man Utd, and since they're the champions do you know what that means?

A.Young: More than 8 seconds analysis after the match on Match of the Day boss?

MON: Well perhaps Ashley, but probably not, it means WE are the Premier League champions!

A.Young: Boss I'm not sure that's how it works, to be champions you have to win the whole.....

MON: Oh yes, champions! They say to be the best you have to beat the best and they also say you're only as good as your last match. Hit the music Robbo.

*John Robertson presses play on the CD player he is holding, MON pulls a microphone from nowhere*

MON: WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS MY FRIEEEEEEENDS, AND WE'LL ......

*MON points the microphone to Fabian Delph*

Delph: .......

MON: Come on Fabian, when I point the microphone at you you sing the line.

Delph: I don't know the words.

MON: WHAT!? it's Queen, it's a classic!

Delph: I didn't even know the Queen sang songs I thought she just, you know waved and stuff. Did you know Nathan?

*Delfouneso shrugs his shoulders*

MON: It's QUEEN not THE Queen.

Agbonlahor: Hang on ...... How many Queens are there?

MON: Just one, well there are two but one's a band and the other is the monarch.

*Delfouneso, Agbonlahor and Delph look at each other confused*

MON: Look forget that anyway we are the new champions and as such....

*Sir Alex Ferguson strides into the dressing room he's wearing a full suit of armour, sneering at all the Villa players*

SAF: Sorry ta interrupt Martin, well I would be sorry if I wasn't so rude and you weren't a bunch of cheaters!

MON: Hey! We're not....

SAF: You shut your mouth Martin, I'm a knight and I don't know how ya cheated but it smells of magic ta me!

MON: Sir Alex, magic doesn't exist and....

SAF: It's SIR Alex!

MON: I said Sir Alex.

SAF: And don't you ferget it ya cheating sorcerer! Anyway I'm here to throw a bottle of wine at you and call you a cheater as is the tradition with away winners at Old Trafford

MON: Sir Alex, I'm not a sorcerer.

SAF: That's exactly the type of trickery I'd expect from a sorcerer

*The CD player plays the next track 'It's a kind of magic'*

SAF: And what manner of sorcery is this!? A box which plays music and speaks of magic! The F.A will hear of this make no mistake!

*Sir Alex Ferguson throws a bottle of red wine that smashes on the wall and leaves, the lads look around in silence then begin to celebrate once more.*

Friday 11 December 2009

Match 16: Manchester United

*We join the lads nervous before their confrontation at Old Trafford, they're hustling to see who's on the team sheet*

Friedel: Yes! Yeeeeeeee Haaaaaaaaa!

*Friedel over enthusiastically celebrates, Sidwell rolls his eyes*

Sidwell: *sigh* Every week this is. Am I on it? I have a feeling I'll be in this week.

Petrov (sniggering): Yes Steve, you are on the list.

*Sidwell pumps his fist and works his way to the sheet running his finger down the list*

Sidwell: Hey! I'm not in the first team Stilyan ...... Wait.... I'm not even on the subs bench ...... "Ballboy: Sidwell"!?

*MON Enters*

MON: Have you not read the team sheet Steven? What are you doing here?

Sidwell: but ....

MON: Off you toddle.

*Sidwell leaves the dressing room and joins the ballboys and girls getting their briefing*

Ballboy#1: alwright guvna!?

Ballboy#2: 'Ow's ya doin' me auld china?

Sidwell: Great it's like "Oliver!" in here!

*Back in the Dressing Room.....*

MON: Chins up lads, now I know we usually write off this tie as a loss, but this time things will be different!

Young: How so boss?

MON: Moustapha! Wheel them in!

*Salifou wheels in gas canister after gas canister*

Young: What's that?

MON: It's Oxygen!

*Gabby scratches his head*

Agbonlahor: How's getting rid of spots going to help us beat Man U boss?

MON: Not Oxy 10, Oxygen! I've been watching tapes and we're running out of steam after the 130th minute. With this Oxygen we'll have the boost to deal with whatever length of time Sir Alex imposes on the match.

Salifou: Boss, I'm tired of just delivering you the "secret weapon" and being the butt of your jokes. I'm an international footballer, I deserve respect and I want to play.

*the dressing room erupts with laughter*

Salifou: What? I'm not joking.

*the dressing room erupts with laughter again*

Salifou: I demand respect!

*the dressing room falls about*

MON (lifting his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes): Oh Moustapha, you're magnificent.

Salifou: So I start?

MON: No.

*the dressing room erupts with laughter once more, Brad Friedel is still pelvic thrusting with gusto in the background*

Friedel: In the team! Oh yeah baby! Number 1!

Monday 7 December 2009

Christmas Party!

*MON has gathered the lads together before their Christmas Party*

MON: Now I know Big John will lead you a merry dance tonight.

*John Carew mimics playing a flute and gyrates, the lads laugh*

MON: But you lads look after yourselves, you're all my babies.

*MON dabs a handkerchief on his tongue and scrubs Delph's cheek*

Delph: Get off boss, you're embarrassing me in front of the guys.

MON: Gabriel.

Gabby: .........

MON: Gabriel?

*Gabby's gaze follows a fly around the room.*

MON: Gabriel!?

Gabby: yes Boss?

MON: You especially, if you can't be good, be careful.

Gabby: OK.

MON: You know what I mean by "being careful" don't you?

Gabby: Say my name's Cameron Jerome boss?

MON: No, but that'll do. Anyway have fun lads.

*The lads whoop and shout as they follow John Carew out*

Sidwell(rubbing his hands): Ho ho! What you got planned for us big man!?

Heskey: A night of drunken debauchery and revellry no doubt!?

Carew: It's a surprise guys, I wanted to show you how I get down!

NRC: Oh yeah! I've brought my party wig, I'm ready to have it large!

*NRC reveals an oversized afro wig, he puts it on*

Cuellar: and I've bought me beard snood, last time I went out with Big John I woke up with half of it shaved off and a kidney missing.

*The lads pile on to the coach, Carew takes the wheel and they drive to an unknown location*

NRC: What's this looks like a community centre or something?

Sidwell: Probably some exclusive, secret strip club Nige.

Carew: OK, here we are.

*Carew leads the lads into the buliding*

Carew: Now this is a pretty new club ....

Sidwell (excitedly): See nige what did I tell you.

Carew: I've been coming since the start so be polite to the patrons.

NRC: Oh I'll be polite, I've got nothing but £50 notes.

*Carew leads the lads into a large room, there are a number of elderly ladies sat in a circle*

Carew: Hello Ethel.

Ethel: Oh Hello deary.

*The lads look at each other and raise their eyes to a banner*

Sidwell: Crochet club!?

Carew: Yeah, it's an excellent way to unwind, look Ashley I made you some gloves.

*Carew hands an annoyed Young the gloves*

Young: These gloves only have have three fingers.

Carew: Well I'm new to it, here have a bobbly hat.

*Carew places the massive hat on Young's head, Young lifts the hat so his eyes can be seen*

Young: I'm going home!

*Young turns and leaves, others follow*

Carew: Wait, don't be like that. Come back ...... I have scarves!

Sidwell: I'll have a scarf, it gets cold on the bench.

Match 15: Post Hull City

*We join the lads celebrating their 3-0 victory over Hull, MON is doing his "victory jig"*

Downing: Soor boss I reckon that was a reet good match eh?

*MON fixes Downing with an icy stare whilst still jigging, NRC leans into Downing*

NRC (whispering): You don't interrupt the jig.

Downing: Oh, sorry I didn't know like.

*MON ends the jig*

MON: Great match lads, great match. Steven that was the best match you've had in a Villa shirt, you've never been so productive.

Sidwell: Well technically boss I wasn't in the Villa shirt ...

MON: I said "a" not "the". The days of your orange bonce clashing with the claret and blue are over, there's a new man in the middle, James Milner. What a managing masterstroke for me to move him there, who but me, Martin O'Neill fantastic player and excellent manager would've thought of that?

A.Young: Well I'd seen the idea bandied about on few forums and....

MON: Forums!? Ashley what have I told you about messing about on that interweb! Need I remind you of Russia?

*Young hangs his head*

A.Young (quietly): No boss.

MON: Need I!?

A.Young: No boss.

MON: .. And furthermore I suspect that James and Emile's bandaged hands have something to do with your online "competitions"!

*Young, Heskey and Milner all shift their eyes guitily*

MON: Oh yes don't think you can pull fast ones over my eyes!

Robertson: You mean the wool Martin. Pull the wool over your eyes.

MON: No Johnno, no I don't.

Match 15: Hull City

*We join the lads gearing up for their clash against Hull*

MON: Hi lads, now I've got a treat in store for you .... Ex-England and Villa manager Graham Taylor and ex-Villa legend Ian Taylor, the Taylor brothers everyone!

*The lads applaud as Ian and Graham Taylor enter the dressing room, they greet the players gratefully*

I.Taylor: We're not brothers Martin.

MON: Had a fight have you? Family eh, who'd have 'em?

I.Taylor: No, I mean we're no relation we just share a name and ....

MON: Whilst you're here actually the zip's gone funny on my favourite tracksuit jacket, I was wondering if one of you guys could...

I.Taylor: We're not tailors either.

G.Taylor: Speak for yourself Ian, I cut a wonderful suit.

*Graham fiddles with MON's tracksuit jacket, Ian frowns*

G.Taylor: There you go.

*MON runs the zip up and down*

MON: Amazing, it's perfect. Sorry, I'm taking up your time please "entertain the troops".

*Graham turns to the team*

G.Taylor: Do I not lot like orange!

*The lads all laugh*

Heskey (wipes a tear): Gets me everytime.

*Graham produces a pointer hitting a picture of Phil Brown on the wall*

G.Taylor: ...and this man is too orangey for crows!

*Ashley Young laughing raises his hand*

G.Taylor: Yes, you there?

Young: Like Kiora Mr.Taylor?

G.Taylor: Like what? What're you talking about lad? Anyway, also look out for this bloke 'ere.

*Graham hits a picture of Jimmy Bullard*

G.Taylor: What he lacks in teeth he makes up for with footballing ability.

*Ian Taylor's phone rings, he reaches into his suit-jacket pocket*

I.Taylor: It's mum, she wants to know what we want for tea.

G.Taylor: Have we got fish fingers?

*Ian turns to talk on the phone, he turns back*

I.Taylor: Yes.

G.Taylor: Not the orange ones though the batter ones ..... And no carrots.

*Sidwell raises his hand to ask a question*

G.Taylor: Put your hand down son, I don't talk to your sort.

MON (sheepishly): O.....K! Ian and Graham everyone!

*MON sheperds them out of the dressing room, no-one but Heskey applauds*

Heskey: Wooooooo, legend! Wooooooo!!!

*The rest of the lads stare at Heskey, he sits*

Carling Cup: Post Portsmouth

*We join the lads celebrating their 4-2 victory over Pompey, champagne is popping and horns are playing on the coach which is sitting outside Fratton Park*

Heskey: Get Up!

All the lads: Get on up!

Heskey: Get Up!

All the lads: Get on up!

Heskey: Get on the scene!

All the lads: Get on up!

Heskey: I'm a goal machine!

*Heskey does a dance (including a spin and "jumping into the splits") in the aisle of the coach*

All the lads: Yay! Go Heskey! Go Heskey....

MON: Lads, lads calm down. Great win out there tonight. Nice to see my boys Emile and Stilyan getting on the scoresheet.

*MON tussles Heskey and Petrovs hair*

Young: Stan's was an own goal boss.

MON: Well it's like they say "they all count" and Emile is growing into the 20 a season striker I knew he was, if we can just tap his potential in the coming years...

Young: Potential? He must be 40 boss!

MON: Look if Fergie's lads are "kids" at 22 then my young gun Emile still has plenty of time to come good.

*Emile nods, Young sighs*

MON: and Stuart, what a great full debut. You can't ask more from than a debutant than to score a goal.

Downing: I suppose I could've scored two like.

MON: Yes, well don't be hard on yourself.

Downing: Or it woulda been reet good if I coulda scored a hat trick it wor my second match and that.

Coach Driver: Like me!

*The coach driver removes his hat*

All the lads: Dion Dublin!?

Dublin: Yeah, what can I say I love Villa .... And driving coaches.

MON: Well it was a great performance Stuart, so you can take that with you.

*Downing begins sobbing*

Downing: It weren't even on tha telly or owt man.

MON: Look, I admire your professionalism but ....

*MON is interrupted by Delph bursting through the coach doors*

Delph: Boss, boss the papers are saying we're going to sign Jermaine Pennant!

MON: They're saying what!?

*MON cocks a shotgun and puts a hand on Dublin's shoulder*

MON: Lets ride!

Match 14: Post Spurs/ Carling Cup: Portsmouth

*The lads seem nonchalant after their draw with Spurs*

MON: So lads, to be honest I was happy not to lose.

*Gabby frowns, his bottom lip pouts*

Gabby: so we lost?

MON: No, Gabriel, we didn't lose I said....

Gabby: So we won? Yay!

*Gabby does a victory dance*

MON: No, no, we drew.

Gabby: I didn't draw anything boss, I was playing football, I scored a goal and everything.

MON: I know Gabriel I....

*Gabby is now drawing, he holds up his picture*

MON: What's that?

Gabby: That's a unicorn.

MON: ... and that?

Gabby: it's Father Christmas.

MON: and that?

Gabby: It's Emile, he's scoring a goal.

Young: You do know none of those are real Gabby right?

*a tear rolls down Gabby's cheek, he turns to MON*

Gabby: No unicorns boss?

MON: sadly no, Gabriel.

Gabby: No Father Chrismas?

MON: No.

Gabby: and Emile.

MON: He tries but .... I'm afraid not.

*Gabby sobs into his picture*

MON: Ashley why must you always ruin it for Gabriel?

*****Pre Pompey*****


MON: Right lads I know Spurs was a difficult match but Pompey have been losing hand over fist so we know what that means....

*Young raises his hand*

MON: Ashley?

Young: We should approach them overconfidently and lose convincingly throwing away our hope of ever progressing in cup competition?

MON: No, not this time.

*the lads collectively gasp*

MON: Yes, this time ..... I want you to win!

*The lads look at each other with confused faces*

Milner: What you want us to score and that?

MON: Yes, that's right James.

Heskey: Even me boss?

MON: Lets not go overboard Emile, one step at a time.

Cuellar: Indubitably Martin, as a matter of fact I do believe your approach to be the best in the further advancement of the club forthwith.

*the team all looks at Cuellar*

MON: Where did you ....

Cuellar: Learn english? Young Gabriel has been teaching me, have you not Gabriel?

*Gabby is interrupted from gnawing at his shin like a dog, Delph raises his hand*

MON: Fabian?

Delph: Boss ... What comes after a quarter-final?

MON: A semi Fabian.

*Young packs his webcam into his kit bag*

MON: Not that kind!

*Young, frowning removes his webcam*

Friday 27 November 2009

Match 14: Tottenham Hotspurs

*We join the lads in the dressing room, they are visibly fearful, MON enters*

MON: OK lads, I see you're a little frightened of Tottenham, but I have been in talks with our sports therapists and we shall be adopting the "exposure therapy method". Do we all know what exposure therapy is?

*Ashley Young raises a shaking hand*

MON: Ashley?

AYoung: Is it when you get a hotel room and a laptop and...

MON: No! No it's not Ashley, that's something quite different

*Fabian Delph raises a shaking hand*

MON: Fabian?

Delph: Is that where you're forced to confront your fears boss?

MON: It is, Fabian well done, have a sticker.

*MON sticks an Aston Villa "Baby on Board" car sticker on Delph's chest, Delph looks proud*

Delph: Yay!

MON: So without further ado .....

*Mon whips out and dons a latex mask, the villa players shriek with horror, Carew leaps into NRC's arms like Scooby-Doo to Shaggy*

NRC (peeping over Carew): Who !?!? What is it!?

MON (muffled): I'm Jermaine Defoe!

*Delph screams again, Collins (the only man who has shown no fear) raises his hand*

MON (muffled): Yes James?

Collins: Boss is that not a rubber Freddy Kruger mask with the odd pointed tooth coloured gold?

MON (muffled): Well .... yes.

Young: Wow, it's uncanny.

MON (muffled): Yes, so the rest of your team talk will be delivered by me - Jermain Defoe and .... "Aaron" come on in!

(from outside the door) Robertson: I'm not comfortable with this Martin.

MON (muffled): Pah! Stop moaning, come on in!

*Robertson enters, he's wearing the alarmingly figure hugging Spurs home shirt and an Aaron Lennon mask which is a picture of Lennon's face with his eyes cut out held to Robertson's face by a knotted elastic band.*

*Delph screams once more*

MON: Now come on Aaron, run around!

*"Lennon" runs laps around the perimeter of the dressing room, MON begins to prance about at the front"

MON (muffled): I'm Jermaine Defoe and I'm going to score five past you, you're rubbish!

*Carlos Cuellar stands silently, approaches "Defoe" and scythes him to the ground with a trademark excessively violent "challenge"*

MON (muffled, groggy and rolling in agony): That's the spirit!

Match 13: Post Burnley

*We join the lads on the coach home in quiet mood after rescuing a point from Turf Moor*

MON: OK lads, I knew it would be tough out there so a point's not too bad. Emile it's like I always say, you can be our hero baby, you can take away the pain.

*Young raises his hand*

MON: Ashley?

Young: I'm pretty sure that was some derivative of Enrique Inglesias' words, and that's not what you always say, you didn't even say that before the match ...

Carew: Yeah, you said (and I quote) Emile is less likely to score than Nick Griffin at a MOBO Awards after party.

MON: What? That doesn't sound like me at all.

Carew: You wrote it on the tactics board, it's still there.

*MON begins wiping the board*

MON: That's not my writing.

Cuellar: But ye dinnae allow anyone else to wreet on ya board Captain.

MON: Enough of this, anyway, as a special treat I'll be taking our hero Emile and poor, poor Richard Dunne to see our next opponents, Tottenham......

***At the Tottenham match, Defoe scores his fifth goal, Heskey keels over, Dunne hides behind the chair in front peeping on the odd occasion***

MON: Emile ... Are you .... Alright?

Heskey: Strikers .... Scoring multiple goals .... It's all too much to bear, it took me half a season to score one, what is the game coming to?

MON: Don't worry lads, In my infinite wisdom I already have the tactical solution.

Dunne: It doesn't involve Stilyan does it?

MON: Of course not.

** MON, Heskey & Dunne stand outside with children awaiting autographs, they're wearing tights over their faces and carrying baseball bats**

MON: Now we wait til Defoe and Lennon come out and then we yell "sign this!"

Heskey: Boss, do we have to wear these tights I mean we're wearing our full strips people will know its us.

Dunne: Emile's right boss, he's a master of disguise after all, been posing as a striker for years he has.

*MON and Dunne chuckle*

MON: Right enough joking, they're coming out....

Thursday 19 November 2009

Match 13: Burnley

*We join the lads at Turf Moor as they chatter in anticipation for their match against Burnley*

MON: Alright lads, now Burnley may look like a team of half-soaked pirates but they can play some football.

*Ashley Young raises his hand*

MON: Ashley?

Young: You're standing on my foot boss.

MON: Well I'd apologise Ashley but I have little choice, after all this 'changing room' is a portaloo, besides you don't hear Craig complaining and I'm stood on his face.

Gardner(muffled): Just glad to be helping the team boss.

*NRC and Carew are shivering outside*

NRC: We can't hear you boss!

*MON unlocks and sticks his head outside the door*

MON: Well I'm sorry, but what do you want me to do sit on the toilet and have you in one at a time on my knee like a santa's grotto!?

Carew: Well that was my idea and I think...

*MON slams and locks the door*

NRC: Stupid boss and his favourites.

*The door unlocks and opens, MON sticks his head out*

MON: What was that!?

NRC: Nothing boss.

MON: I thought not!

*MON slams and locks the door again*

MON: Now we won 5-1 against Bolton and with Stilyan and Emile back we should be a ten times more potent threat with pace and goals.

*The portaloo erupts with laughter, NRC and Carew frown at the laughter outside*

MON: But enough jokes, like I said Burnley are every bit as dangerous as their weather-beaten, disheveled looking faces would suggest.

Heskey: So boss, how be it that we vanquish these vagrants forsooth?

MON: In my tactical genius I have come up with a secret weapon. Moustapha!

Salifou: Finally. I always knew that Togo's finest would get his shot at the ....

MON: What're you talking about? Fetch me my bag.

*a deflated Salifou passes MON an Asda bag, MON withdraws it's contents*

MON: Voila!

Young: Dove!?

MON: Yes, genius is it not? You'll each have a bar and chase your man with it, they'll not have a clue what to do when presented with a cleaning agent.

Cuellar: Och! and it will nay dry their skin like soap can.

MON: Ha! Very good Carlos, now could you perhaps move your face? You're giving me a rash.

*there is a banging on the door*

NRC: Boss, boss let us in there are a crew of what look like pirates approaching!

Monday 9 November 2009

Match 12: Bolton Wanderers

*We join the Villa boys preparing for Bolton*

MON: Now where's Isaiah with my Earl Grey?

Salifou (through tears): You sent him to Middlesborough on loan boss.

MON: Ah yes, here's hoping he gets enough experience on their bench to improve his posture, it was getting terrible. OK lads, tough time out last match, we have to be wary Bolton have been playing some clever, entertaining football as of late.

*The Dressing Room erupts with laughter*

MON: Joking aside, Bolton are a physical team. So I've gathered some pictures to incite a rage to match theirs.

*MON walks towards a noticeboard with three covered pictures, he uncovers the first, it's a picture of Peter Kay, many of the lads laugh*

MON: Don't laugh! I want rage!

Young: We can't help it boss, everyone loves Peter Kay, he's a national icon.

*Sidwell is seething*

Sidwell: I don't love him boss, I hate him ... Grr!

MON: That's more like it Steven, everyone take Steven's example.

Young: But he's always angry at everyone.

*Sidwell turns to Young and sneers whilst growling*

MON: That's what we need, fire, passion ... And next ....

*MON uncovers the next picture, it's a Yorkshire Pudding. The lads look confused, some look hungry, Delph raises his hand*

MON: Fabian?

Delph: Boss, I'm pretty sure that Bolton's in Lancashire.

MON: Same thing Fabian, same thing.

Young: Again boss, everyone loves a yorkie pud, I could eat one now. with grav....

Sidwell: I hate yorshire pudding, if there was one here I'd kick it.

Young: Not even with a Sunday Dinn....?

Sidwell: I'd kick it! I'd break it's legs.

Young: Steve, Yorkshire puddings don't have legs.

Sidwell: Not after I'd finished with them they wouldn't!

MON: Right then, you're not all as enraged as I thought you'd be so here is the final picture.

*MON reveals the picture, it's Vernon Kay with a large grin and shiny suit. The lads go ballistic snarling and yelling, NRC leaps from his chair, tears the picture down with his teeth and shakes it like a rabid dog*

MON: Now that's more like it.

*The lads are fighting over who gets to stamp on the picture, Sidwell appears to be in complete bliss at this scene*

MON: Now we're ready for Bolton, now who wants a red card ... I mean to play right back?

*All the lads raise their hands including Friedel and Guzan*

MON: Yes, now we're ready.

Match 12: Post Bolton Wanderers

*We join the lads rejoicing their 5-1 victory over Bolton*

All the Lads: Easy! Easy! Easy!

MON: You shut up!

*The dressing room erupts with laughter*

MON: Alright lads, alright lets calm down. You played some great stuff out there. Emile, Stilyan those were the best performances in villa shirts I've seen since I signed you.

Petrov: But I wasn't playing boss.

Heskey: Me either, and I wasn't wearing a Villa shirt, you made me wear this Leicester one.

*Heskey holds up some of the tattered cloth from the ten year old faded Leicester shirt that is at least two sizes too small*

Heskey: seriously boss, I can't breath.

MON: well you should of thought of that before you got rubbish. Now Richard, Richard where are you?

*Dunne grins and raises his hand*

Dunne: Here bass.

MON: Richard, what are you playing at? Where was your goal?

Dunne: Well y'know I'm a defender bass, and I t'ought 5 goals was enough ....

MON: That's what you "t'ought" was it? Well you're "tinking" doesn't get me points in my fantasy team Richard, look, can you see "Thinking: 5 points" there?

*Dunne hangs his head*

Dunne: No bass, sorry bass.

MON: No Richard I'm sorry, and John, two assists and a goal? What's that all about!?

Carew: Are you .... angry boss?

MON: Yes I'm angry, you're only on my fantasy team bench, you're not even first priority!

Carew: But you said on your TV interview...

MON: Never mind what I said on my TV interview! I need you consistent, consistently bad unless Bent and Defoe are injured.

Carew: But you said you "didn't want Defoe or Bent anyway" and that "they're lazy good for nothings happy to sit on the bench and won't score in a first team".

MON: You're twisting my words.

Carew: You have those exact words printed on the t-shirt you're wearing!

*MON zips up his jacket*

MON: No I don't.

Carew: Yes you do, unzip your jacket.

MON: I'm not one of you're cheap floosies John, I shan't undress at your say so!

NRC (whispers to A.Young): looks like contretemps.

MON: What was that Nigel!?

*Heskey collapses in a heap, the celebration continues*

Wednesday 4 November 2009

Match 11: West Ham

*We join the lads preparing for West Ham*

MON: OK gentlemen, as usual I've done my in-depth analysis of our opposition and Frankie Dettori's men don't stand a chance against us.

*Young raises his hand*

MON: Ashley?

Young: isn't Frankie the horse guy?

MON: Horses!? I'd not seen that during my analysis.

Robertson: Wasn't our 'analysis' just watching last weeks Match of the Day at the pub boss?

*MON is already on his phone*

MON: Yes Chris, it's Martin. Martin O'Neill.

....

MON: What do you mean you've never heard of me !? Martin O'Neill the Villa manager.

....

MON: No that's Offiah and he's rugby. Do you know Martin Offiah?

....

MON: Then why would he ring you then!? Anyway, I need Marlon back.

*MON hangs up*

MON: Heskey you're up. Their horses will be no match for our donkeys.

NRC: Aren't horses better than donkeys boss?

MON: Pipe down you, lest I put the slipper to your backside once more!

*NRC cowers sheepishly back into his chair*

Milner: I think tha' Ashley's reet boss, look...

*Milner holds up a picture of Frankie Dettori on 'Racing Times', he's sporting a wide grin as usual and the headline reads 'I don't manage West Ham, I'm a Former Jockey'*

Petrov: Yis, West Ham's manager is looking more like this...

*Petrov holds up a Troll doll, Petrov has shaved its head to the point it mimics male pattern baldness*

MON: Ah yes, Gianfranco Zola.

*Delph enters, he looks frantic*

Delph: has anyone seen Fabio? My troll doll? ...... Fabio ... no it can't .... FABIO!!! Stilyan you monster!

*Petrov shakes the doll whilst talking out the side of his mouth*

Petrov: I am not the Fabio, I am the Zola. Carltony Coles go and score all the goal, now!

MON: Stilyan! Put Gianfranco Zola down this instant! And Zola I demand you put some clothes on!

Monday 2 November 2009

Match 10: Post Everton

*The lads mull over their draw against Everton*

MON: Well lads, there were good points and bad points. Big John scored, he's really sent me a message.

*Carew pumps his fists*

Carew: Yes!

MON: ...That he's far better as a substitute.

*the dressing room erupts with laughter, Carew hangs his head*

MON: Now Carlos you got sent off which on the face is of it is bad.

Cuellar: I dinnae ken wha' happened cap'tain.

MON: Well in my day you could decapitate someone as long as you touched the ball. As a matter of fact when I won the 79-80 European Cup final (a game I was magnificent in by the way) I'm pretty sure Viv Anderson did just that, all they got was a throw-in.

*Milner raises his hand*

MON: James?

Young: Did tha player die like boss?

MON: Die? Die!? Players were made of stronger stuff back then James, it would take more than a beheading to stop us playing in europe. Isn't that right Robbo?

*John Robertson nods*

A.Young: Didn't you miss the year before through injury boss?

MON: My leg was hanging on by a thread Ashley, I wanted to play, I even considered killing Robbo and wearing his face so they'd let me play.

*John Robertson looks horrified*

MON: I'm joking John of course and by joking I mean I tried and failed. Anyway, what was I saying? Ah yes. With Carlos suspended the right back position is now available, any volunteers?

*Luke Young and Habib Beye raise their hands eagerly*

Beye: Me, me boss, pick me!

L.Young: No boss me, choose me!

*MON gazes over the team almost as though he can't see L.Young or Beye*

MON: No-one?

Beye: MEEEEEEEE!!!!

L.Young: Boss me please!!

MON: Right, no takers then. Nigel you're up.

NRC: Aw! But boss Luke and....

MON: Hush Nigel!

NRC: But they're both full-b...

MON: Are you looking for contretemps!?

Saturday 31 October 2009

Match 10: Everton

*We join the lads in the dressing room preparing for Everton, Heskey and Carew are carrying a large box for MON*

MON: That's fine lads stick it there.

*Carew and Heskey put down the large box in front of the team*

MON: Right lads, we have a big challenge ahead. Everton are a dangerous team. Lescott's not there any more and Agent Knight has taken care of Tim Cahill but their major threat still exists.

Young: Saha?

MON: No Ashley.

Milner: Jagleilka?

MON: No James, Fellani.

*The Dressing Room erupts with laughter*

MON: Stop your laughing! Don't let his comedy hair fool you lads, he's as viscious as a cornered rat ... with an afro.

Young: So what's the plan boss?

MON: Good question Ashley, good question. A good manager is always prepared. That is why I have these!

*MON opens the large box all the players scurry around to see it's contents.*

Young: Hockey masks?

MON: Yes hockey masks, with these I ..... Stilyan stop chasing Fabian around with that mask on and where did you get that machete!?

Petrov: Sorry boss.

*Petrov removes his mask and puts down his machete*

Milner: Soor hows we gonna beat Fellani with halloween masks like?

MON: Halloween? These are to protect your beautiful faces from Fellani's wandering elbows. Now I have one for each of you except Isaiah and Moustapha of course their faces shall be well protected by at least three rows of seats ..... Where are Moustapha and Isaiah anyway?

.......*Outside the dressing room Salifou is dressed in a sheepskin coat with a flat cap*

Salifou: Now then Isaiah have I got a money spinner for us this time.

Osbourne: What is it this time Sal boy? I'm still in trouble from last time.

*Salifou holds up a shirt with Guzan's face photoshopped onto Jesus' body, it has the slogan "Guzan Saves" underneath.*

Salifou: Isaiah you plonker, we sell these we'll make a fortune. We just need to get Bradley to wear this toga.

Guzan: I don't know guys, isn't this kinda blashpemy?

Salifou: Nonsense, none of us are married.

Guzan: I think you're thinking of bigamy.

Salifou: Yeah, yeah it's really big of you to help us out.

Sunday 25 October 2009

Match 9: Post Wolverhampton Wanderers

*We join the lads muted over their draw against Wolves*

MON: Well, it was a woeful first half and a bit better second, just a shame we couldn't hold the lead.

Sidwell: Sorry boss.

MON: No, no Steve don't apologise, I knew you were a flame haired psycho when I wrote your name on the team sheet, it's not your fault. Now Richard, we need to talk, you need to tone down your defending, just defend OUR goal from now on and we'll be more successful.

Cuellar: He cannae help himself man, he loves tha defendin'.

*MON looks at Cuellar's interpreter*

Interpreter: He can't help himself, he loves defending too much.

MON: I know Carlos, I know ...... Where is he?

*the dressing room falls silent as the players look to their left and right for Dunne*

Young: Can anyone else hear crying?

*the lads investigate the sobbing coming from the toilets to find Dunne looking over his shoulder at the mirror, tears streaming down his eyes*

MON: Good heavens, Richard? Are you alright?

Dunne: Yes boss [sniff!]

MON: Why are you ..... Crying?

Dunne: On Match of the Day they said I have a "considerable backside" do you think I have a considerable backside?

Thursday 22 October 2009

Match 9: Wolverhampton Wanderers

*The lads gather in the dressing room to discuss tactics for Wolves*

MON: OK lads, it's Wolves away. This is a massive club, steeped in history.

*The Dressing Room erupts with laughter*

MON: Joking aside, don't underestimate them, even if they are rubbish.

*a shaking Delph raises his hand*

MON: Fabian?

Delph: Boss ... are they wolfmen? Stilyan said they're wolfmen and that if they bite me...

MON: No Fabian, they may bite you, they don't know any better but they're not wolfmen, there's no such thing.

Delph: What about Martin Keown and that man that was on Big Brother?

MON: they're not wolfmen .... Well Keown ... No, there's no such thing. Stilyan will you stop frightening young Delph.

Petrov: OK, sorry boss.

MON: Hang on a minute, are you dressed as a vampire!?

*Petrov unclips his cape and removes his plastic fangs and black wig*

Petrov: No boss, it's traditional bulgarian dress.

MON: Oh OK then, anyway... what was I saying?

Collins: You were going to select the team boss.

MON: Ah yes...

*MON selects the team based on form and position leaving only the right back position*

MON: and the right back is .....

*MON produces a silk bag and roots around in it pulling out a screwed up piece of paper and unravelling it*

MON: John Carew.

*MON points at Carew, Carew removes his headphones*

Carew: I won, I won! What's my prize?

*The lads queue waiting to hug MON in "the cuddle chair" before emerging on to the pitch*

Carew: Lads? Lads!? What did I win? ... In the draw?

Wednesday 21 October 2009

Match 8: Post Chelsea

*We join the lads celebrating their victory over Chelsea. MON enters on his mobile phone*


MON: Hello? Claims Direct? Yes, I'd like to make a claim.

...

MON: Martin O'Neill, yes, THE Martin O'Neill.

...

MON: What do you mean you don't know who I am? I've won the european cup! I was magnificent.

...

MON: No, the European Cup, football, it's the old Champion's League.

...

MON: Nottingham Forest.

...

MON: What do you mean you've never heard of Nottingham Forest?!
...

MON: Yes, Robin Hood, but they also have a football team.

...

MON: Yes a little bit of gun crime perhaps, anyway my claim, I was cruelly slain in my prime by an ogre on Saturday afternoon.

...

MON: Yes ... well no I'm not dead obviously as I'm talking to you on the phone.

...

MON: Well I suppose it was a little over exaggeration, anyway the brute who assaulted me was Nicolas Anelka.

...

MON: Yes the Chelsea player ... Hang on he's not as famous as me! I've done Match of the Day Punditry I'll have you know!

...

MON: Injuries? I have a gaping wound on my elbow, it's hanging off they'll probably have to amputate, a swelling the size of your fist on my backside and nightmares, terrible nightmares ooh and whiplash.

...

MON: Thankyou I look forward to hearing from you.

*MON turns his attention to that lads*

MON: Right, Great win James and Richard.

*Dunne and Collins "high five" each other whilst the rest of the team look on with envy*

MON: As a matter of fact on the back of this victory I have drawn up a new team system for our match against Wolves.

*MON pulls a cover off a flipchart to reveal his new system, Carew raises his hand.*

MON: Yes John?

Carew: Boss there are only three players in that formation.

MON: Yes, John, yes there are. Collins and Dunne at the back with Young standing at the sideline waiting to take corners. I call it the 2-1 formation.

*Heskey Raises his hand*

MON: Emile?

Heskey: Won't we be at a huge disadvantage fielding three players against eleven?

MON: No.

*Milner raises his hand, MON nods to him*

Milner: what's that off the pitch? Is that a picture of you?

MON: Yes, I'm dancing because we have beaten Wolves so comfortably.

*MON demonstrates the dance he will do*

Match 8: Chelsea

*We join the lads preparing for their Chelsea encounter*

MON: I don't know much about Ancelloti lads, what I do know is that he is foreign, and that mean's he's....

*MON turns his ear to the lads in a Bruce Forsyth fashion*

All the lads: Trouble!

*Ashley Young raises his hand*

MON: Ashley?

Young: I've been thinking and ... and maybe foreigners aren't all trouble.

*The lads all gasp*

MON: What!?

Young: Yeah I mean look at Brad Guzan and Friedel, they're foreign and they're not trouble.

MON: The Brads are American you can't get much closer to british than that. I mean look at Guzan, he's literally wearing bowler hat.

*Guzan tips his bowler hat*

MON: and Friedel's wearing a knotted handkerchief and fake moustache like a holidaying brit of old.

*Friedel adjust the straps on his red and white striped swim suit*

MON: So Ashley, tell me, who are these foreigners you say are not trouble?

*Young scours the room for foriegn players*

Young: Aha! Carlos Cuellar, he's from Spain, he's spanish.

MON: I think you'll find he's Scottish.

Young: What?

MON: Have you ever seen him play for this "Spain"?

Young: No but...

MON: But what Ashley? But what?

Young: Well ... He's never played for Scotland.

MON: No scottish players play for Scotland!

*Young looks again*

Young: Well there's Big John Carew he's ... Well ... he's not that much .... erm.

*Ashley bows his head the dressing room erupts with laughter*

MON: So that's that then we're agreed. Now, it's almost time for kick off so start the song.

*The lads look at each other uncomfortably*

MON: I said sing it!

All The lads: Rule, Britannia

MON: Louder!

All The lads: Britannia rules the waves! ...

Monday 12 October 2009

Goodnight Sweetheart

*MON storms into his office where Stilyan Petrov and Emile Heskey are eating bowls of Sugar Puffs*

MON: What the hell is this!?

*MON slams a paper on the table in front of Heskey*

MON: You're going to leave me? And I find out through the papers?!

Heskey: Boss I...

MON: Who do you think you are? Jude Law?

Heskey: Look boss they've taken it out of context....

MON: What next? Have you got a child with someone else!?

Heskey: Boss! It's not like we're in a relationship.

MON: What's wrong with you players? Of course it's a relationship, this contract *MON waves Heskey's contract* is like a marriage between man and club.

Heskey: I think you're being a bit ....

MON: A bit what Emile? A bit what?! Players today, in my day we would proudly wear the club's kit like a wedding dress, parade about in it we would, got married in my full Nottingham Forest kit I did. Everyday was the best day of your life. Nowadays it's all illegimate love-ins with the press.

Heskey: Now come on!

MON: You come on! I take you in, let you eat my Sugar Puffs. As a matter of fact give me those Sugar Puffs.

*MON snatches the bowl from Emile*

MON: They're my Sugar Puffs, Emile. Mine!

Heskey: Now you're just being childish boss.

MON: Childish!? Would a child do this?

*MON raises his hands to either side of his head like ears and brays like a donkey*

MON: Eyore! Eyore!

Heskey: What? What is this? Are you calling me a donkey?

MON: Yes Emile a donkey! YOU are a donkey! Now what am I?

*MON lies still on the ground, Petrov chimes in*

Petrov: Ooh, boss I don't know, what are you?

MON: I'm Emile "holding up the ball"

*Petrov bursts out laughing*

Petrov: It is funny because Emile is always falling over when he is getting the ball.

Heskey: You monster!

*Heskey flees from the office using his forearm to hide his tearful eyes*

Match 7: Post Man City

*There's excited chatter in the Dressing Room as MON strolls around removing the Barry dartboard from the wall and the Barry face sticker from the punching bag*

MON: Calm down lads calm down, so we drew a great game which is OK I guess, it's not quite winning but it's better than losing.

*Gabby looks confused at the concept*

MON: Collins? Collins? James?

Collins: Yes boss?

MON: You're a ginger king James, a ginger king! Come, let me kiss your ginger crown your majesty.

*MON kisses Collins on the head*

MON: You were literally a lion out there, a balding, ginger lion.

Collins: Thanks boss.

MON: Dunney!?

*MON "play boxes" Dunne's shoulder a few times*

Dunne: bass?

MON: You were great out there tonight, weren't 'cha?

Dunne: aye bass

MON: weren't 'cha?

Dunne: aye bass

MON: weren't 'cha?

Dunne: Well I tried y'now.

MON: Carlos!

*MON tussles Cuellar's curly locks*

MON: I do believe my search for a right back replacement is over my son.

*The lads all cheer*

MON: Finally Emile, Emile what words can be used to describe your performance ....

*MON thumbs his pocket thesaurus*

MON: Stupefying! In fact best man on the pitch from start to finish by far.

Heskey: Thanks boss.

Gabby: But boss he came on as a sub and to be quite frank he was ...

MON: Shhh Gabby Shhh you scored no goals you have no say.

Gabby: But Heskey didn't score any goals and...

MON: There's more to football than scoring goals Gabriel.

Gabby: But you just said....

MON: Look, Emile was the difference out there he came on and changed the game.

Gabby: But he didn't do anything

MON: Didn't he Gabriel? Didn't he?

Gabby: No.

MON: Didn't he?

Gabby: No!

MON: Enough of this, everyone knows Emile offers another dimension.

Carew: Yeah a parellel dimension where strikers don't score goals.

*The dressing room erupts with laughter*

MON: John, Gabriel I've warned you, are you looking for contretemps?!

Gabby: I don't use any boss, it's how I keep getting in trouble.

Carew: Really boss? I mean can you sort it out? I mean that would save me loads of....

MON: What? Not condoms or contraband, contretemps! I say contretemps! .... What? Where have they gone?

*Carew and Gabby arrive at the Rocket Club with wallets full of "Barry bucks"*

Carew: Thank you Mr.Barry.

Plane to Ukraine

*We join an excited Gabby sitting next to James Milner on the plane to the Ukraine.*

Gabby: So who's we playin' then lads?

Milner: Ukraine.

Gabby: No need for insults Jim, I just don't know who we're playing.

Milner: We're playing Ukraine.

Gabby: I know we're playing but who? And please I'm sensitive.

Milner: No not You-Crane, Ukraine, thats the team man.

Gabby: Oh....

*Gabby looks scared*

Milner: Gabby?

Gabby: Yeah?

Milner: What's wrong like?

Gabby: Are they like JCBs?

Milner: Noor, Gabby how could JCBs play football man?

Gabby: well in Bob the Builder they ....

Milner: Gabby, Bob the Builder's not real.

*Gabby's world looks shattered*

Gabby: and Transformers?

Milner: Noor, Look a fair few years ago tha Soviet Union broke up ...

Gabby: Like Katie and Peter.

Milner: Kind of but there was less media coverage. Anywee they split into several meaningless countries with odd, forgettable names.

Gabby: Will they make a comeback tour, like Take That?

Milner: What? Comeba...They're countries man!

Gabby: So not JCBs

Milner: Noor!

Gabby: But they play football.

Milner: Yes.

Gabby: Jim?

Milner: Yes?

Gabby: Will Gary Barlow be playing for them? I like Gary Barlow.

Milner: (sigh)

Monday 5 October 2009

Match 7: Manchester City

*We join the lads gearing up for their Monday night clash with Man City*

MON: So, Man City, this'll see the return of Gareth so I'll be expecting ...

Dunne: Us to kick him ta death bass?

MON: What!? Heavens no, I was going to say.....

Dunne: Right, plausible deniablity bass, gotcha.

*Dunne taps his nose and points at MON*

MON: What? Why are you tapping your nose and pointing to me like that? I honestly mean....

Dunne: Gotcha bass, honest as the day is long ya are bass, no involvement in the kicking.

*Dunne points at MON with both fingers tapping his thumbs like pistol hammers and winking*

MON: What's with the "hand guns" and winking? Look don't just go out there and kick the lad.

Dunne: Right ya are bass, ya never know who's watchin' with tha cameras about today and what not.

*Dunne sticks a thumb up keeping his hand below his waist and motioning to the thumb with his head*

MON: So no kicking Gareth Barry then, we're agreed?

Dunne: 'COURSE NOT BASS! WON'T TOUCH THE LAD!

*Dunne looks around with a large fake grin, turns to MON and nods*

MON: Wait why are you talking like that? Is that nod agreeing you won't touch him?

Dunne: Oh Aye there'll be no kicking to be seen.

Voice over the tannoy: ***Can the club managers please make their way to the dugout***

MON: Right, got to go, good luck lads, Stilyan, captain's speech.

*MON Leaves the dressing room, Petrov stands, Dunne pushes Petrov back into his seat.*

Dunne: I'll take this one Stanny boy. Right lads ya heard tha bass, kick lumps out of Gareth Barry!

Collins: I don't know, it didn't sound like the boss said that, Barry seems a nice enough guy too, I met him at a charity thing once and ......Ow! Richard! Did you just ... Bite me?

Dunne: Yes, yes I did.

*The lads look fearfully at Dunne who now has a crazed look in his eye*

Dunne: Now, Who we gonna kick!?

All the Lads: Gareth Barry!

Dunne: When we gonna kick 'im!?

All the Lads: Now!

Investment

*Randy Lerner walks into a palacial room with an arabian billionaire behind a massive desk*

Lerner: Hi there good buddy. I was wondering if you'd like to inves...

Billionaire: Ah! Mr.Lerner. If you are wanting money, you know what you must do.

Lerner: Well I was kinda hoping that I wouldn't have to do...

Billionaire: Ishmael! Bring me the "Begging CD"!

*a servant drags in a large "boom box"*

Billionaire: On the desk Mr.Lerner.

*Randy climbs on the desk rolling his eyes and sighing, the billionaire presses play on the boom box, it blasts The Adventure of Stevie V's "Dirty Cash"

#Money talks, money talks....#

Billionaire: Now dance Randy! Dance!

*Randy does the running man*

#Dirty cash I want you, dirty cash I need you oooooh#

Billionaire: Where is the passion Randy!? I said dance! Dance like you've never danced before!

*Randy is holding one of his ankles and tugging it backwards before putting his hands on his hips and gyrating with gusto*

Billionaire: and you, little man, join him!

*MON climbs on the table, Randy and MON re-enact the "Kid n' Play" dance steps*

Billionaire: I like it! I like it, but I shall not invest.

*The billionaire presses stop, Randy climbs down from the table. MON is still shuffling to the groovy sound of Stevie V"

MON: #Dirty cash I want ....#

Lerner: Marty!

MON: Oh sorry boss.

Billionaire: Yes, I'm afraid Mr.Lerner I have no money really it is all a facade much like the owner of your Portsmouth and your dragon, Deborah Meaden. I am but a N-Power salesmen ... You want N-Power?

Lerner: No thanks I just switched.

Billionaire: and you?

MON: I'm already with N-Power, sorry.

Monday 28 September 2009

Match 6: Post Blackburn Rovers

*We join the lads mourning the loss to Blackburn*

MON: So .... We lost but that's OK, it's not the end of the world.

Delph: It's the end of the world!?! Aaaaaargh!

*Delph runs in a circle with his hands in the air*

MON: No I said NOT the end of the world.

Delph: Oh sorry boss.

*Delph takes a seat*

MON: We've still got a lot going for us, we're still high in the table and doing well with injuries. Our defence is still relatively stingy and Gabriel you're still liking the goals right?

Gabby: No.

*The lads all gasp in shock like a courtroom drama*

MON: What do you mean Gabriel? Why don't you like goals?

Gabby: I like goals when they win. I got a goal. We lost, so .... I don't like them anymore, I think I won't score any more this season.

MON: WHAT!?

Gabby: I think that's me done, no more goals.

MON: No more goals!? But ... But you've hit a rich vein of form scoring 5 in 5 early in the season it's not like you to start off well and have a cataclysmic drop in form when we lose .... Wait a minute, is this what you did last season?

Gabby: Yes.

MON: What?! Great where am I going to get my goals now?

*Heskey raises his hand, stands with his chest proudly puffed out*

Heskey: I shall get your goals boss!

*The dressing room erupts with laughter*

Heskey: What?

NRC: I'm more likely to get our goals than you Emile.

Heskey: You? But the boss hates you he PM'd me on Facebook and told me so, plus even if you were picked you can't score for toffee!

NRC: Exactly!

*The dressing room erupts with laughter*

Carew: Well boss you know what you've got to do if you want me to get you goals.

MON: John I've told you a hundred times we are not having a strippers pole installed in the dressing room for me to "perform" my team talks.

Carew: What about just "half-time honeys" on the pole then?

MON: NO pole! NO half time honeys!

*Carew folds his arms, rocks back in his chair and kicks the one in front of him*

.....Next Week ......

MON: Right John, I need you grabbing some goals.

Carew: No problem boss.

*MON spirals down the pole upside down and does the splits*

MON: Defence, keep it tight....

Match 6: Blackburn Rovers

*MON strides into the Dressing Room, he's grown a beard and a long mane of warriors hair*

MON: Stand, men.

*The lads all stand in a row, MON walks up and down their ranks, Salifou follows behind him beating a drum, Osbourne holds a tall Aston Villa flag*

MON: Brothers, I won't lie to you. I know Big Sams tactics, some of you won't make it back alive today.

Delph: Oh Jesus no!

MON: Calm yourselves! You will be kicked, crushed and battered out there, you'll litter the field with your blood, limbs and quite possibly your entrails.

Delph: But .... I like my blood, my limbs and my entrails.

MON: We all do Fabien, we all do. This is not enough to stop the twisted violence of Sam Allardyce and his brutal thuggish excuses for players as they impose there wicked brand of awful "football" on us.

Young: I'm gonna dance around 'em boss, that's what I'm gonna do.

*Young places a flat hand on his stomach and gyrates his hips like a latin dancer, the dressing room erupts with laughter*

MON: FOOLS! They'll dance on your face and grave if you give them a chance!

Delph (now quivering with fear): How, how can we beat them ... What can men do against such wreckless hate?

MON: I have a plan, early goals to break their spirit. Gabriel you like goals don't you?

*Gabby's eyes light up*

Gabby: YEAH!!

MON: And are you willing to die for goals?

*Gabby's bottom lift shifts to the right and envelopes his top lip, he scratches his head deep in thought*

Gabby: erm ...No.

MON: No!? Hmmm, then it's plan B, we avoid them. Long ball to Heskey it is!

*Young raises with hand*

MON: Ashley?

Young: Boss with all due respect I'd RATHER die.

*The dressing room erupts with laughter*

MON: Enough of this idle banter it's off to battle and glory! Hurrah!

*MON rides an imaginary horse out of the dressing room, the lads look at each other confused*

Young: I think the 6 wins have gone to his head...

Post Cardiff City

*We join the lads celebrating their victory over Cardiff City,
MON is doing Snoopy's "Happy Dance"*

MON: Yippee! We did it again lads. Another clean sheet any more and we'll put Dunelm out of business! And Gabby you don't half like those goals do you?

*The lads all look at Gabby expectedly*

Gabby: Indubitably.

*the team looks confused*

Gabby: I like goals?

*The lads cheer, Gabby replaces his monacle and reverts to reading Tolsty's War and Peace*

MON: Now where's my lovely, lovely defenders?

*MON looks left, he looks right ... They're nowhere to be found*

Young: They all went to the bathroom a while back boss.

*MON opens the bathroom door to find Collins, Cuellar and Dunne staring intently in the mirror straining*

MON: What in the world!?

Dunne: Hello dere bass, we're having a beard growing competition. Beards are tha life's blood of defending and masculinity don't ya know.

MON: But ... You're all clean shaven.

*MON blinks*

MON: Heavens alive!!

*Cuellar sports a thick bushy beard much like Harry Potter's Hagrid, Dunne sports a long silky viking beard, Collin's combs out his ginger afro beard with an afro comb with a fist on the handle*

*Davies rolls in on a wheelchair*

Davies: Hi guys! Another clean sheet huh?

*The successful defenders shun Davies, Collins turns over his shoulder still combing out his beard*

Collins: Why are you in a wheelchair? I thought you hurt your shoulder.

Davies: Oh yeah.

*Davies stands up*

Davies: So guys can I join in?

*Davies strains . . . He manages a wispy, patchy moustash. The other defenders all laugh*

Cuellar: Luke at that pathetic excuse for a moustash!

Collins: His sideburns haven't even passed his earlobes!

*The defenders fallabout laughing, Davies runs out crying*

Wednesday 23 September 2009

Clean Sheets

*We join James Collins and Richard Dunne who on the back of two consecutive defensive shut-outs have opened a laundrette called "Clean Sheets". James has just arrived*

Dunne: Alright dere Marmalade?

Collins: Did you just call me "Marmalade"?

Dunne: Ta be sure! I figure ya've hair like an orange and James like jam y'know? I t'ought we need nicknames if we're ta form a good partnership.

Collins: I don't like marmalade.

Dunne: tha name or tha food?

Collins: Either!

*Dunne scratches his head*

Dunn: How's about "Ginger Jam"?

Collins: no.

Dunne: Ginjam?

Collins: NO! James or Mr.Collins will do me fine thankyou.

*Dunne visbly looks to be thinking of more names*

Collins: Who's that?

Dunne: Just some temps we've got in, Carlos Cuellar and Stilyan Petrov

Cuellar: I cannae get these stains oot captain, I doon't have tha powerrr

Dunne: Captain? Not yet my curly friend, but soon ... Very soon.

Petrov: What was that?

Dunne: Nothing Stilyan ..... Stilyan have you been using my industrial bleach.... On your hair?

*Petrov's hair glows platinum white*

Petrov: No boss, of course not boss ...

*Cuellar and Petrov return to scrubbing clothes frantically, Isaiah Osbourne and Moustapha Salifou enter"

Collins: Ah customers! Welcome to Clean Sheets ...Hey Get back in there you!

*Collins crams Frederic Piquionne back into his pocket*

Osbourne: Hi, we're here to get our tracksuits cleaned.

Collins: Sure thing .... Wait I don't see bags....

*Osbourne and Salifou have stripped to their claret and blue Y-Fronts and are loading their tracksuits into a machine*

Collins: What in the .... You're not even wearing kits underneath them!?

Salifou & Osbourne: Kits?

Collins: Yeah, y'know .... When you're going to play, you strip ... to your kit?

Salifou (turning to Osbourne): Do you have a "kit"?

Osbourne (welling up): No Moustapha, no I don't! My tracksuits not even a Villa one, it's an old Scunthorpe United one I bought off eBay.

Dunne: Hello dere fella can I help you?

*Gabby sits watching washing in a machine turn attentively*

Dunne: Hello dere? ...... Hello? ..... Hello dere?!

Gabby: I like Goals I do.

*Dunne scratches his head and appears to have a brainstorm*

Dunne (yelling across the laundrette): How's about Sunny D!?

Collins: (yelling back): No!

...

Carling Cup: Cardiff City

MON: Well I don't know much about Cardiff City I'm afraid lads, our scouting mission was .... Unsuccessful....

...*Villa's scout crosses into Wales from Shropshire, he is promptly pulled over by the local police*

Officer Daffyd: My Delilah! Do you know why I've stopped you boyo?

Scout: No officer, I mean I was doing 40 and ...

Daffyd: I'll stop you there, that's why I stopped you, doing 40 miles per hour in a 30 zone

*The officer scribbles on his pad*

Scout: Wait a minute now, this is a 40, there's a sign right there with "40" on it.

Daffyd: That's a 30.

Scout: What? It's there plain as day "4" "0".

Daffyd: It says "3" "0", that's a welsh 3.

Scout: and a welsh 3 is an english 4?

Daffyd: I couldn't tell you boyo, I don't know your english numbers, don't speak the lingo to be honest with you.

Scout: You're speaking english now.

Daffyd: and I'm hating every minute of it.

*another officer approaches from the car*

Thomas: This one giving you trouble Daffyd?

Daffyd: I believe he is Thomas, english attitude and all of it.

Scout: Now come on I'm not ...

Thomas: English is it? What business have you got in Wales boyo?

Scout: I'm an Aston Villa scout I'm on my way to .....

*The officers fall about laughing*

Daffyd: a Villa scout he says Thomas!

Thomas: I heard Daffyd. A Villa scout is it?

Scout: Yes.

Daffyd: We all know Villa scouts don't cross borders, what's your real business?

Scout: I'm a scout for Aston Villa, I'm here to report on ....

Daffyd: Here to find a foreign gem is it?

Scout: No ... I...

Thomas: Here to poach The New Saints formerly known as Total Network Solutions or simply TNS is it!? Not on my watch boyo!

Scout: No .... Wait ....

Daffyd: I think we have a speeder and a liar or poacher here Thomas.

Thomas: I think you're right Daffyd. Out of the car.

*The scout is arrested*...

MON: His excecution's at sunset..... Our new lad James Collins played for Cardiff City, I've asked him to present a short report of what to look out for.

*MON takes a seat, James Collins takes to the front of the room.*

Collins: Hi guys, Like the boss said I played for Cardiff, they're a mean bunch, they used to completely fill my locker with McVities Ginger Nuts. So when I would open my locker the McVities Ginger Nuts would fall out on me and they would all point and laugh.

*Carew sniggers*

Collins: It's not funny.

Carew: sorry.

Collins: They also used to say I have "the red death" and that I'd infect them with "ginger germs".

*Sidwell leaps out of his seat*

Sidwell: The fiends!

*Sidwell comforts a now crying Collins*

Sidwell: It's OK brother, I'll avenge you and I can assure you I'll get booked trying!

Collins: You're not just using me as an excuse to get booked are you Steve? You always get booked.

Sidwell: No ... Of course ... not. This booking's for you.

Thursday 17 September 2009

Match 5: Portsmouth

*We join the lads preparing for the Pompey match*

MON: Right lads, I want to continue winning ways so I'll be naming an unchanged team.

*The selected team cheer, the others groan*

MON: Oh except I would like to make some minor changes. Isaiah, Moustapha remove your tracksuit tops.

*Osbourne slips out of his top with lighting speed .... leaving it inside out and still zipped. Salifou also takes off his top. They grin at each other widely*

Osbourne: Oh yes, Mama always said this day would come and here it is, "be patient Isaiah" she said "the day will come" she said ....

MON: .... here are your new tracksuit tops, wear them with pride.

*The Dressing Room erupts with laughter, Osbourne and Salifou hang their heads zipping up their new tracksuit jackets*

MON: Yes, by "wear them" I mean never take them off and by "with pride" I mean EVER!

*The Dressing Room erupts with laughter again*

MON: Now enough joking. We're up against a fierce Pompey side. Especially Defoe, especially Crouch and especially Campbell.

Robertson (whispering): Pssst boss they're no longer at Portsmouth.

MON: Kranjcar?

Robertson: Tottenham.

MON: Nugent?

Robertson: Burnley.

MON: Burnley?! Ha we'll have a whale of a time against 5-man Pompey lads .... Is David James still there?

Robertson: Yes boss.

MON: Ha ha! Excellent! Right lads if Pompey don't forfeit the match I want 10-nil by half time. Non-scorers will be replaced by Osbourne and Salifou.

Salifou & Osbourne: Hurray!

MON: No .... Wait Heskey and Petrov.

Petrov: But I'll already be playing boss.

MON: Then you'll play twice!

Petrov: But .... How can I play twice I'm only one man and.....

MON: Enough Stilyan or you'll be captain right back! Now go out there and win or die! And by "die" I mean get substituted!

A Hospital Visit

*We join the lads visiting a recovering Curtis Davies in hospital*

Davies: Hi guys, great to see you. Really missed you.

NRC: Missed you too Curt, been terrible without you ..... Except for the clean sheet of course.

Davies: Clean .... Sheet?

NRC: Yeah you know "clean sheet".

*Curtis shakes his head confused*

NRC: Y'know you sometimes used to get them when you played with Martin Laursen? When you don't let the opposition score any goals?

Davies: Oh yeah, I remember those.

NRC: Anyway, I got you something.

*Curtis sits up, NRC hands him some grapes*

Davies: Gee, thanks NRC, I don't usually eat grapes, I mean I would never buy them but I guess they're what you always get when you're in hospital so thanks.

*Richard Dunne and James Collins stroll in eyeing up the room*

Dunne: Hello dere Curtis.

Collins: Hi Curtis.

*Dunne and Collins throw bunches of grapes at Curtis, they hit him in the face and shoulder respectively.

Davies: Ow! Guys I can't catch, remember? Shoulder operation.

Collins: Oh yeah, Silly us eh Dunney?

Dunne: Yeah silly us, so .... Any idea how long you'll be out dere lad?

Davies: About 4 months ..... OW! James can you please stop squeezing my shoulder.

Collins: Which shouder? This shoulder?

Davies: Ow! Yes, that shoulder, the one I've just had an operation on.

Dunne: Oh Curtis, almost forgot, pinch, punch first of the month.

*Dunne pinches and punches Davies' shoulder*

Davies: Ow! What're you on about Rich?! It's the 17th!

Dunne: Yeah well, I was busy signing on the first y'know and....

Davies: If I didn't know any better I'd say you pair are trying to worsen my condition or at least hamper my recovery.

*Collins puts a firm hand on Curtis' shoulder shaking him*

Collins: Get a hold of yourself man, you're delusional, it must be the painkillers.

Davies: Ow! I'm not any painkillers, stop yanking my shoulder!

*Cuellar arrives holding out a birthday cake*

Cuellar: Happy 30th Curtis!

Davies: What!? My birthday's in March and I'm only 24!

Dunne: Time for the bumps!

*Dunne, Collins and Cuellar approach, MON bursts in the door, the defenders all "look innocent")

MON: Curtis, terrible news, I've just spoken with the doctors its worse than they thought. You won't be able to hold an interview for 3 weeks.

*Curtis throws off his covers gets out of bed and falls to his knees, hands raised*

Davis: Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

MON: It's not too bad though we've got Steve Sidwell on double interview duty.

*Dunne, Collins, Cuellar and NRC all join Curtis on their knees*

All the lads: Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!

It's a Woman's Game

*The Women's Football European Finals ... England V Germany*

Guy Mowbray: And we're here, the final. I must say women usually excite me, however in football even in a final they do not. Here's the kick off.....

*the match is kicked off, the whistle goes immediately*

GM: What's this? Oh the linesman has called offside, well that's impossible .... Oh no she's just doing a little dance with her flag ... Bless her.

Lucy Ward: I expect a good match, both these teams have lots of running in them.

*Mowbray drops his mug it explodes on impact with the floor, coffee is everywhere*

GM: Who in the world are you!? Security! There's a woman in the commentary box.

LW: It's me Lucy Ward, I played for Leeds women's football team I think. I'm not on Wikipedia so I can't tell you much.

GM: Oh .... Alright.

*In the match the referee blows up for a foul*

GM: Oh whats this? On hearing the whistle the England team have formed a cheerleader pyramid.

LW: You can see their training is really paying off.

.......... Later ......

GM: Well that's it, full time. Germany win by almost a netball score. It's to be expected really when England didn't field a 'keeper.

LW: The young lady in green Rachel Brown is the keeper.

*Mowbray drops his fresh mug it explodes on impact with the floor, coffee is everywhere again*

GM: That 3ft lass? I thought she was an eager ball girl.

*Mowbray lights up a cigar, Lucy coughs*

GM: Well that's that we're heading back to that rugger wife and two other birds and just in case you're thinking of some "me time" Martin Keown's there to put you off.

Match 4: Post Birmingham City

*We join the lads celebrating in the St.Andrews Dressing Room*

All the Lads: £$%& on the City!£$%& on the City tonight!

NRC: Ooh Ahh!

All the Lads: £$%& on the City!£$%& on the City tonight!.....

*Ashley Young hangs his shirt on a peg, the peg falls off the wall and into a strangely coloured puddle*

A.Young: God! I $£%&ing hate the sty!

*Cuellar chases a pig around the straw-floored dressing room, it has stolen his watch.*

Cuellar: Och! Ye dinnae get this even at Gretna!

*MON Enters, the Dressing Room falls silent*

MON: Ha haa! I've out foxed Big Eck again, excellent work lads!

*all the lads cheer*

MON: Especially you Emile, magnificent.

*Gabby raises his hand*

Gabby: er...... Emile didn't play boss, I played, I was the hero. Look

*Gabby re-enacts his goal celebration with token jump and thumbs pointing to his name on his shirt*

MON: Gabby! There's no "I" in team, there is however an "I" in Emile, well played Emile.

Carew: But Gabby's right, he didn't play!

MON: Gabby, John, you two need to learn that Emile is an unorthodox striker, he doesn't need to score goals he doesn't even have to play, that's not what his game's about.

*Heskey nods in agreement whilst Gabby and Carew look at each other confused*

Gabby: What IS his game about boss?

MON: Look nevermind what his game is about you can't just judge a striker on his goals, appearances or performances .... Hang on, who's that?

*MON points to the crowd where the defenders are massed*

Dunne: I'm Richard Dunne bass, y'know " The Dunne", "Dunney", the "Dunney monster"....

MON: Not you, him

Collins: It's me James Collins, not to be confused with the other Collins, I think it's Danny Collins who moved to Stoke. I get that all the time I think it's because we both ...

MON: no no no, him

Warnock: Warnock?

MON: No the one in the outdated Villa kit, with dodgy facial hair and plaster cast.

Ridgewell: It's me, Liam Ridgewell.

MON: What're you doing here?

Ridgewell: Well to be honest I was hoping with all these new defenders you wouldn't notice me and you'd save me from this wretched club. I $£%&ing hate the sty

MON: No dice. Defenders, seize him.

*Dunne and Collins promptly drag a crying Ridgewell toward the door*

Dunne: Sorry dere boss, I t'ought he was one of us, I'd never seen any of the lads before y'know.

MON: Yes well, now I don't usually do this but as I'm so happy with your performance and clean sheet we're going to have a sing-a-long.

*All the lads cheer*

MON: Can you hear the City sing?

*MON points to Gabby*

Gabby: Nooooooooo!

*MON points to Friedel*

Friedel: Nooooooo!

*Sidwell emerges from the shower drying his ear with his towel, MON points to him*

Sidwell: I can't hear a £$%&ing thing!

*The lads cheer*

Sidwell: No seriously, the shower was making this weird high pitched noise and I'm not sure it was even water coming out. I $£%&ing hate the sty.

Wednesday 16 September 2009

Ian & O'Neill - Home Grown Ruling

*We join MON and Villa's head scout Ian Storey-Moore playing squash*

MON: ((FOREHAND!)) So Ian .... I've been thinking.

Ian: ((BACKHAND!)) Thinking? What about taking over the world of football again?

MON: Yes Ian ((FOREHAND!)) Do I think of anything else?

Ian: Well no, not really ((BACKHAND!))

*MON and Ian continue the rally for five more minutes*

Ian: .... So? ((FOREHAND!))

MON: ((BACKHAND!)) So what?

Ian: ((FOREHAND!)) What are you thinking, in regards to taking over the world? Narf!

MON: Oh yes, my plan ((BACKHAND!)) so with this new "home grown" player rule I'm thinking we do just that.

Ian: Well we're already in good stead for that Martin, ((FOREHAND!)) most of our players are home grown as you don't let me out of the country.

MON: Yes, home grown indeed. ((BACKHAND!))

Ian: So your plan is to further invest in the academy? ((FOREHAND!))

MON: Academy!? ((FOREHAND!)) No, I say we grow players .... From the earth.

Ian: From ... The earth? ((BACKHAND!))

MON: Yes, like potatoes ((OVERHAND SMASH!))

*The ball rebounds off the wall flying past a stunned still Ian Storey-Moore, MON reaches into his pocket*

MON: See I grew this potato at home, do you not think this potato has the look of a young Steve Bruce?

Ian: A little Martin but seriously you can't expect root vegetables to...

MON: and this leek, does it not have a likeness of Peter Crouch?

Ian: Martin, let go of my arm, you're scaring me.

MON: Good, british produce Ian, THAT is what will win us the league, that is how we will take over the world .... of football.

Ian: Martin .... I think you've gone mad.

MON: Oh but have I?

Ian: Yes, I think so.

MON (shaking the Bruce potato and Crouch leek at Ian): HAVE I!?

Ian: ...Yes?

MON: They said Einstein was mad, they said Columbus was mad, they took over the world of football.

Ian: I don't think they did Martin. I think....

MON: Enough of your thinking Ian, it's time for action! To the greenhouse!

*MON drags a fearful Ian to his allotment to find birds have ravaged his "crop", MON falls to his knees*

MON: Nooooooooooooo! Hughes! You'll pay for this!

Ian: I don't think Mark Hughes had anything to do with this, I think you just need to get a scarecrow .... and some .... Help.

MON(sobbing): Quiet Ian, I'm making plans for tomorrow night.

Ian: Why Martin? What are we going to do tomorrow night?

MON (straight-faced and dry-eyed): The same thing we do every night Ian, try to take over the world of football!

Friday 4 September 2009

Ian and O'Neill - Conquering Europe

It's Ian and O'Neill
it's Ian and O'Neill
One looks at players, the other makes deals
to find players of worth
they scour the whole Earth
It's Ian, it's Ian and O'Neill, Neill, Neill, Neill, Neill

*We join MON and Villa's head scout Ian Storey-Moore in the gym. MON is on the treadmill, Ian is next to him on the rowing machine*

MON: I have a plan Ian.

Ian: A plan? ((ROW)) Is it to take over the world of football again? ((ROW))

MON: Yes, yes it is....

*MON falls silent turning back to his running line*

Ian: So ((ROW)).....What's your plan?((ROw))

MON: Oh yes, the plan. We go to europe and get players Ian, european players!

Ian: Europe!? *Ian stops rowing*

MON: Yes Europe.

Ian: But we don't like Europe, they eat horse meat!

MON: I know.

Ian: ...and sauerkraut!

MON: I know.

Ian: They almost never talk about the weather! What if rains Martin? How will we communicate with these "european players"? How will we convey to them that it is raining?

MON: Hmmmmm, I think they'll SEE the rain and perhaps we'll have no need to say "it's raining" or "terrible weather" at all

*Ian strokes his chin, warming to the idea*

Ian: Hmmmm, maybe. How do we get to this Europe anyway?

*MON hops off the still moving treadmill with cat like agility and points at the wall*

MON: There.

*a Poster adorns the wall with "EUROPE, tickets £23"*

MON: Are you pondering what I'm pondering Ian?

Ian: Maybe, but I'm not sure the Uzbekistanian Government would approve of a 30 foot gold Elvis statue..

MON: No Ian, that we get tickets and go to Europe.

Ian: Oh.... Yeah.

*Martin takes note of the ticket office details and MON and Ian leave the Gym shortly arriving to purchase tickets*

MON: Two tickets for Europe please my good man.

Seller: Like Europe gents?

Ian: No, they eat horse meat and ...

MON: Ian! Yes, we love Europe.

Seller: Well have a good time

MON: We will Seller man, we will.

*MON breaks into a maniacal laugh, the seller looks confused*

Seller: O....K, £46 please.

*Later Ian and MON queue with their tickets and passports, they're running late*

Ian: There are an awful lot of leather clad men with beards going to Europe Martin.

MON: They have a more lax view on fashion in Europe Ian, obviously.

Ian: Oh, OK.

*MON and Ian get to security*

Security Guard 1: Tickets?

*MON and Ian present their tickets, security make way for them to enter*

MON: Hang on, are you not going to check our identification?

*the security guards look at each other puzzled*

Security Guard 2: No .... We think you look old enough!

*the security guards break out in laughter, MON and Ian enter, annoyed*

Ian: Well this is odd.

*Loud music booms out*

MON: Wait a minute I know this song, it's...

From stage and crowd: THE FINAL COUNTDOWN!

Ian: Narf!

MON: This isn't a voyage to the continent at all, it's a concert for 80's swedish rock band, Europe!

*Though disappointed MON and Ian rock late into the night returning home sweaty and exhausted, MON looks wistfully out of the window*

Ian: What're you doing Martin?

MON: Making plans for tomorrow night Ian.

Ian: Why Martin? What are we going to do tomorrow night?

MON: The same thing we do every night Ian, try to take over the world of football!

Thursday 3 September 2009

Big Bodymoor

*We join the lads in the Big Bodymoor house*

Milner: Day wun in tha Big Bodymoor hoose. moorst of tha housemates are in the living room....

Carew: ..people say it's degrading to women, I think it's an art.

*a number of Villa players nod in agreement, Ashley Young emerges from the bedroom with a duvet crossing the living room*

Heskey: What ho? going for some "Ashley time" is it?

Young: Yep.

*Ashley exits towards the toilets*

Osbourne: It's always Ashley time. Ashley time, Ashley time, Ashley time! I've had enough, we've not got the loo roll to waste, I'm nominating him.

Davies: Isaiah, you can't talk about nominations.

BIG BODYMOOR: Isaiah, can you come to the diary room.

*Isaiah visibly annoyed stands up muttering to himself and goes to the diary room*

BB: Hello Isaiah.

Osbourne: What?

BB: Isaiah, it states in the rules that speaking about nominations is not allowed.

Osbourne: I'm sick of him though. He waltzes around here, throws himself to the ground and pretends to be injured when it's time to do the washing up, uses all the loo roll, seriously big bodymoor I think he has a problem, I mean we've not even been here a day and ....

BB: Isaiah?

Osbourne: Yes?

BB: Since you have broken the rules, this week you will be forbidden from nominating.

Osbourne: WHAT!?! Well, that's just to keep "him" in isn't it?

BB: Isaiah?

Osbourne: Yes!?

BB: You may now leave the diary room.

Osbourne: But the tissue paper and I have a suspicion that's my duvet and ...... Ah forget it!

Day two

Milner: Day too of at tha Big Bodymoor hoose. All of tha house mates are in tha living room like.

Carew: ..... So I said Norway mate, Norway.

*The living room erupts with laughter*

Carew: See it's funny because I was saying no way and I'm from Norway.

Sidwell: You're so funny John. Moustapha coming out for a smoke?

Salifou: Go on then.

*Sidwell and Salifou move outside. Sidwell lights up a cigarette cooly blowing smoke out the side of his mouth*

Sidwell: I can't stand Carew.

Salifou: What?! You just said....

Sidwell: I know what I said, I'm sick of him already. He thinks he's so funny and he keeps calling me James, I look nothing like James!

*James Collins joins the lads*

Collins: Hi Moustapha, hi James.

Sidwell: You're James!

*Collins looks himself up and down*

Collins: Oh yeah.

Sidwell: Anyway, I wouldn't mind too much if Carew was up for eviction this week .... If you know what I mean?

*Sidwell winks*

Salifou: No .... What do you mean?

Collins: Is your eye Ok, it's a bit twitchy, I had a twitchy eye once and then...

Sidwell: I mean I could understand if a number of people, say us three for example might want Carew to go.

Salifou: .....Why?

*Carew joins the lads outside*

Carew: Alright boys what we talking about?

*Sidwell hesitates*

Sidwell: er..... Evolution, yeah they say man has evolved but if we were dropped in the forest could you make fire? I know I couldn't.

Carew: Well I don't know about making fire but I'm "on fire"

*Salifou and Collins laugh loudly*

Salifou: It's like the chant!

*Sidwell looks scornfully at Collins and Salifou, they stop laughing*

Carew: What's up James?

Sidwell: I'm STEVE!

Collins: I thought I was Steve?

Sidwell: (Sigh)

Nominations

Carew: Hi Big Bodymoor.

BB: Hello John.

Carew: Ooh a lady Big Bodymoor. You can call me "Big" John if you like.

BB:*giggles* John who is your first nomination and what is your reason for their nomination.

Carew: Oh, this is tougher than I thought it'd be. erm.... James Collins.

BB: And what is your reason for nominating James.

Carew: I don't think he likes me BB, He's been talking about me behind my back. I think he has a complex about his red hair, I like red hair I mean sure I knocked out Riise that one time, but that wasn't because his hair is red it's because he's a...well I won't use that kind of language in front of a lovley lady like yourself.

BB: Thank you John, and your second nomination.

Carew: Isaiah. Oh, it's a shame really, I don't how can I say it..... He stinks, is that a good enough reason?

BB: Please elborate John.

Carew: Elaborate? He smells BB. I don't know how long he's been wearing that Villa tracksuit jacket, he sleeps in it and by the smell of it I wouldn't be surprised if something dead fell out if he ever opened it.

BB: Thank You John. Please confirm your nominations.

Carew: James and Isaiah.

*Carew leaves and Sidwell is called to make his nomination*

Sidwell: Hi BB.

BB: Hello Steve, who is your first nomination and what is your reason for their nomination.

Sidwell: Gabby, why? I don't feel he's really come out of his shell in the house BB.

*The camera pans to Gabby running around in the garden naked singing his "Gabby Agbon-la-hor" chant.*

BB: and your second nomination.

Sidwell: Carew. Because everyone likes him. Big whoop, he tells some jokes, what about me? What about Steve Sidwell? I have jokes. Knock Knock BB.

BB: .... Who's there?

Sidwell: Steve Sidwell and I'm as funny as Carew but you don't hear them all laughing at me!

BB: Steve Sidwell and I'm as funny as Carew but you don't hear them all laughing at me who?

Sidwell: No, no the joke was finished, that was it.

BB: Oh .... Sorry Steve.

Sidwell: No don't apologise, it makes me look like a sad case who can't tell a joke! Oh forget it!

BB: Steve. Please confirm your nominations.

Sidwell: Gabby and Carew.