*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....
Monday 28 September 2009
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...
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*
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!
...
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.
...*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!
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!!
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.
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 $£%&ing hate the sty.
All the Lads: £$%& 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!
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!
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.
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.
Wednesday 2 September 2009
Funny Stan
*We join the lads arriving for training, Petrov has a trick up his sleeve*
Petrov: I've had another of my hilarious ideas Isaiah.
Osbourne: I don't want to know Stan, you got me in trouble last time. I don't think...
*Petrov leans in and whispers his idea to Osbourne*
Osbourne: No Stilyan, that's terrible I'm not scaring the lad again.
Petrov: Ssh here he comes.
Delph: How do fellas?
Petrov (with a sound of fright in his voice): It is horrible Fabio, horrible!
Delph: It's Fabian.
Petrov: That's what I said, Fabio.
Delph: I said it's .... Nevermind, what is it? It's not ghosts again is it!?
Petrov: Worse young Fabio, Moustapha and Sid have had an argument over who has the biggest chopper and .... Well Moustapha placed a voodoo curse on Sid.
Delph: VOODOO!? CURSE!?
Petrov: Yes... A voodoo curse, he has aged Sid considerably.
Delph: Aged him? But ...We were going to go on an 18-30s holiday to Magaluf together, he's my ginger wingman!
Petrov: Ah ... Here he is now.
*James Collins strolls around the corner*
Delph: Oh God, Steve ..
*Delph falls to his knees crying and hugging Collins' legs*
Collins: Steve? Who's Steve?
Delph: No! He's given you dementia as well, You maniac! Damn you Salifou, damn you to hell!
*Salifou arrives*
Salifou: Hi guys
*Delph runs at Salifou tears streaming in his eyes*
Delph: I hate you Moustapha, you and your massive chopper!
*Delph beats repeatedly on Salifou's chest with all his might, Salifou doesn't even flinch*
Salifou: What's with him?
Osbourne: Stan told him, you put a curse on Sid after an argument over the size of your choppers.
Salifou: That's ridiculous .... Everyone knows Sid's chopper is far bigger than mine.
*Sidwell arives on his chopper, he removes his helmet*
Sidwell: Hey guys.
Delph: STILYAN!?!
*Petrov laughs like a manic vampire*
Petrov: I've had another of my hilarious ideas Isaiah.
Osbourne: I don't want to know Stan, you got me in trouble last time. I don't think...
*Petrov leans in and whispers his idea to Osbourne*
Osbourne: No Stilyan, that's terrible I'm not scaring the lad again.
Petrov: Ssh here he comes.
Delph: How do fellas?
Petrov (with a sound of fright in his voice): It is horrible Fabio, horrible!
Delph: It's Fabian.
Petrov: That's what I said, Fabio.
Delph: I said it's .... Nevermind, what is it? It's not ghosts again is it!?
Petrov: Worse young Fabio, Moustapha and Sid have had an argument over who has the biggest chopper and .... Well Moustapha placed a voodoo curse on Sid.
Delph: VOODOO!? CURSE!?
Petrov: Yes... A voodoo curse, he has aged Sid considerably.
Delph: Aged him? But ...We were going to go on an 18-30s holiday to Magaluf together, he's my ginger wingman!
Petrov: Ah ... Here he is now.
*James Collins strolls around the corner*
Delph: Oh God, Steve ..
*Delph falls to his knees crying and hugging Collins' legs*
Collins: Steve? Who's Steve?
Delph: No! He's given you dementia as well, You maniac! Damn you Salifou, damn you to hell!
*Salifou arrives*
Salifou: Hi guys
*Delph runs at Salifou tears streaming in his eyes*
Delph: I hate you Moustapha, you and your massive chopper!
*Delph beats repeatedly on Salifou's chest with all his might, Salifou doesn't even flinch*
Salifou: What's with him?
Osbourne: Stan told him, you put a curse on Sid after an argument over the size of your choppers.
Salifou: That's ridiculous .... Everyone knows Sid's chopper is far bigger than mine.
*Sidwell arives on his chopper, he removes his helmet*
Sidwell: Hey guys.
Delph: STILYAN!?!
*Petrov laughs like a manic vampire*
It's a Shorey Thing
They say it wasn't personal terms the deal for Shorey fell through on ... I have an idea what it was.
*Shorey is called to MON's office for a meeting*
Shorey: Hi boss, you said you had something urgent to .... Belhadj? Kaboul? Paul Hart?! What're they doing here?
MON: They're here to *ahem!* assist you in your move to Portsmouth.
Shorey: Portsmouth!?
MON: Yes....Portsmouth.
Shorey: But I don't want to go to Portsmouth, I love Aston Villa .... look.
*Shorey lifts his shirt to reveal a Villa badge tattoo that covers near enough his whole back*
Shorey: I also have a comical car sticker in my window which has a man wearing a Villa shirt and no trousers weeing on a Birmingham City shirt.
MON: Yes, yes I know Nicky but ....
Shorey: He has a thumb up and a big smile on his face, he's loving degrading that shirt by urinating on it he is.
MON: Look Nicolas, I realise ....
*Shorey flips into a bezerker rage*
Shorey: Don't call me Nicolas!!
MON: .... Oh no .....
*Shorey leaps at Kaboul biting his cheek*
Kaboul: Aaaaaarrrrggghhhh! He bit me!!!
*As Kaboul rolls on the ground, Nicky stands, gazes at Belhadj like a man possessed and unleashes a flurry of wild punches*
Belhadj: Aiiiieeeee! My nose, me beautiful nose she is broken along with my teeth and my hair!
*Paul Hart flees for the door*
Hart: You said nothing of him being crazy Martin! Pompey, retreat!
*Belhadj, Kaboul and Hart all run, limp and hobble out of the office*
MON: Wait, wait! It's only when you call him Nicolas.
Shorey: DON'T. CALL. ME. NICOLAS!!!
*Shorey is called to MON's office for a meeting*
Shorey: Hi boss, you said you had something urgent to .... Belhadj? Kaboul? Paul Hart?! What're they doing here?
MON: They're here to *ahem!* assist you in your move to Portsmouth.
Shorey: Portsmouth!?
MON: Yes....Portsmouth.
Shorey: But I don't want to go to Portsmouth, I love Aston Villa .... look.
*Shorey lifts his shirt to reveal a Villa badge tattoo that covers near enough his whole back*
Shorey: I also have a comical car sticker in my window which has a man wearing a Villa shirt and no trousers weeing on a Birmingham City shirt.
MON: Yes, yes I know Nicky but ....
Shorey: He has a thumb up and a big smile on his face, he's loving degrading that shirt by urinating on it he is.
MON: Look Nicolas, I realise ....
*Shorey flips into a bezerker rage*
Shorey: Don't call me Nicolas!!
MON: .... Oh no .....
*Shorey leaps at Kaboul biting his cheek*
Kaboul: Aaaaaarrrrggghhhh! He bit me!!!
*As Kaboul rolls on the ground, Nicky stands, gazes at Belhadj like a man possessed and unleashes a flurry of wild punches*
Belhadj: Aiiiieeeee! My nose, me beautiful nose she is broken along with my teeth and my hair!
*Paul Hart flees for the door*
Hart: You said nothing of him being crazy Martin! Pompey, retreat!
*Belhadj, Kaboul and Hart all run, limp and hobble out of the office*
MON: Wait, wait! It's only when you call him Nicolas.
Shorey: DON'T. CALL. ME. NICOLAS!!!
Tuesday 1 September 2009
A Deadline Day Carol Pt III
*We re-join MON and Ron on the magical sheepskin coat.*
Atkinson: So, Martin. This is where you get off.
MON: Thank you, thank you Big Ron.
Atkinson: Remember you have one ghost remaining.
*MON starts off across a misty field on his way home*
MON: Things are going to be different now, I definitely ....
*a cloaked, shadowy figure appears*
MON: Who, or what are you?
*The figure just points in a direction it wants MON to follow*
MON: Foul creature, identify yourself .... Be you ... Jimmy McHagen?
*The figure removes it's hood, MON lets out a high pitched scream*
MON: Hideous fiend despite my girl like screams you scare me not!
Southgate: Martin it's me, Gareth Southgate.
MON: I see this you vile beast. Now show me what you will!
*Southgate sighs and pulls his hood back up*
MON: Better!
*Southgate points again and MON follows his lead*
MON: What is this?
*MON appears in an office with a disgruntled looking man, yelling at co-workers and hammering on his keyboard.*
Man: Stupid, stupid stupid!
MON: Oh he's on BBC's 606 Message Board, I've heard of this.
Man: We're going to lose, rubbish tactics, rubbish players why can't we be like ...
MON: My goodness ... He's so pessimistic....
*Southgate taps the man's username on his screen*
MON: "IH8JAMESCOLLINS"?..... The lad?
*Southgate nods*
MON: He's become worse than Villagib, Bally and the Reverand combined!
*Southgate nods*
MON(tears in his eyes): Oh wise Southgate, take me back, take me home.
*Southgate nods once more*
*MON wakes up in his bed*
MON: Hmm, perhaps it was all a dream, nevertheless I shall certainly today make the signings befitting of this fine club!
*with a skip in his step he gets ready and leaves for work, bumping into the lad*
MON: Good news lad, today your dreams will be realised! Defour, Van der Vaart, Veloso I shall buy them all! Merry Deadline Day!
*The lad wipes a tear from his gleeful face*
Lad: Merry Deadline Day Mr. O'Neill.
*MON dances around the Bull Ring*
MON: Merry Deadline Day sir! Merry Deadline Day madame! Merry Deadline Day one and all.
*MON arrives in his office and makes a call to Standard Liege*
MON: Merry Deadline Day my belgian chum, I'd like to buy your Defour if you please.
SL Reception: Monsieur, I do believe ze window is closed.
MON: Nonsense my good fellow, tis not midnight but only 20 minutes past the seventh hour!
SL Reception: Qui Monsieur, ze window it closed at 5.
MON: Balls!
Atkinson: So, Martin. This is where you get off.
MON: Thank you, thank you Big Ron.
Atkinson: Remember you have one ghost remaining.
*MON starts off across a misty field on his way home*
MON: Things are going to be different now, I definitely ....
*a cloaked, shadowy figure appears*
MON: Who, or what are you?
*The figure just points in a direction it wants MON to follow*
MON: Foul creature, identify yourself .... Be you ... Jimmy McHagen?
*The figure removes it's hood, MON lets out a high pitched scream*
MON: Hideous fiend despite my girl like screams you scare me not!
Southgate: Martin it's me, Gareth Southgate.
MON: I see this you vile beast. Now show me what you will!
*Southgate sighs and pulls his hood back up*
MON: Better!
*Southgate points again and MON follows his lead*
MON: What is this?
*MON appears in an office with a disgruntled looking man, yelling at co-workers and hammering on his keyboard.*
Man: Stupid, stupid stupid!
MON: Oh he's on BBC's 606 Message Board, I've heard of this.
Man: We're going to lose, rubbish tactics, rubbish players why can't we be like ...
MON: My goodness ... He's so pessimistic....
*Southgate taps the man's username on his screen*
MON: "IH8JAMESCOLLINS"?..... The lad?
*Southgate nods*
MON: He's become worse than Villagib, Bally and the Reverand combined!
*Southgate nods*
MON(tears in his eyes): Oh wise Southgate, take me back, take me home.
*Southgate nods once more*
*MON wakes up in his bed*
MON: Hmm, perhaps it was all a dream, nevertheless I shall certainly today make the signings befitting of this fine club!
*with a skip in his step he gets ready and leaves for work, bumping into the lad*
MON: Good news lad, today your dreams will be realised! Defour, Van der Vaart, Veloso I shall buy them all! Merry Deadline Day!
*The lad wipes a tear from his gleeful face*
Lad: Merry Deadline Day Mr. O'Neill.
*MON dances around the Bull Ring*
MON: Merry Deadline Day sir! Merry Deadline Day madame! Merry Deadline Day one and all.
*MON arrives in his office and makes a call to Standard Liege*
MON: Merry Deadline Day my belgian chum, I'd like to buy your Defour if you please.
SL Reception: Monsieur, I do believe ze window is closed.
MON: Nonsense my good fellow, tis not midnight but only 20 minutes past the seventh hour!
SL Reception: Qui Monsieur, ze window it closed at 5.
MON: Balls!
A Deadline Day Carol Pt II
*We rejoin an outraged MON*
MON: They laugh at me! Me Martin O'Neill!!
Taylor: They do, don't they? Anyway I must be off. You will be visited by two other ghosts .... ghosts .... ghosts.
*Taylor's Voice fades*
MON: Well.... Are you going to leave?
Taylor: I've disappeared.
MON: You just crouched behind my sofa!
Taylor: Fine
*Taylor stands and walks out the front door*
MON: Moyes, Wenger, Pah! What do they know? Did either of them win the European Cup? No, I did.
*a loud voice booms from the dining room*
Loud Voice: Stop talking to yourself and get in 'ere
*MON apprehensivley approaches*
MON: Ron Atkinson!?
Atkinson: Yes, I am the ghost of Deadlines present.
MON: You must be 15 ft tall!?
Atkinson: Of course I am, why d'ya think they call me Big Ron?
MON: I just figured it was because you're obese. I know why they called you Ra...
Atkinson: Silence!
MON: Wait a minute, "present"? You're not even around anymore!
Atkinson: I was on Wife Swap the other week.
MON: Didn't watch it.
Atkinson: With Tessa Sanderson?
MON: Oh, I think I may have seen the advert for it.
Atkinson: Anyway step on the magical sheepskin jacket, we're going for a journey.
*MON steps onto a sprawled out Sheepskin jacket which takes off like a magic carpet towards it's destination*
MON: Where is this place !?
Atkinson: It's White Hart Lane, look...
*MON peers through the windows*
MON: It's Harry Redknapp, Daniel Levy and their new signings.
Atkinson: Yes, see how happy they are?
MON: They're playing Twister, look and Harry's face, his grin nearly lifts his cheeks!
Atkinson: Yes, Harry has bought players where he needed them, he's strengthend his squad and look.
*Atkinson points to the Sun paper*
MON: Jordan is pregnant, isn't pregnant, has a boyfriend, is getting married, is splitting up ..
Atkinson: The sports pages!
MON: Spurs?! Joint first?
Atkinson: It could be their year.
MON: What have I done!?
Atkinson: Now observe....
*MON and Ron fly to an alternate destination*
MON: Where am I .... Why it's that lad from this very morn!
*The lad MON spoke to is being bullied at school*
Man Utd Bully: HA! James Collins!? I've never even heard of him, that means he's rubbish!
Lad: No, I trust in Martin if he says he's good, he's good.
Chelsea Bully: Yeah like Mufasa Salif Dao! Ha ha ha!
Lad: it's Moustafa Salifou!
BCFC Bully: Ha even big 'eck is finding foreign gems, your days of 2nd City domination are over, we're rich now!
Lad: Nooooo!
*The lad runs away crying*
MON: It's all my fault children at school and adults at work up and down the country are crying on deadline day .... Because of me.
Atkinson: Yes, Martin in the transfer market you're what's known as a ****ing lazy ....
MON: Don't say it Ron, I now understand ... I know now what I must do.
MON: They laugh at me! Me Martin O'Neill!!
Taylor: They do, don't they? Anyway I must be off. You will be visited by two other ghosts .... ghosts .... ghosts.
*Taylor's Voice fades*
MON: Well.... Are you going to leave?
Taylor: I've disappeared.
MON: You just crouched behind my sofa!
Taylor: Fine
*Taylor stands and walks out the front door*
MON: Moyes, Wenger, Pah! What do they know? Did either of them win the European Cup? No, I did.
*a loud voice booms from the dining room*
Loud Voice: Stop talking to yourself and get in 'ere
*MON apprehensivley approaches*
MON: Ron Atkinson!?
Atkinson: Yes, I am the ghost of Deadlines present.
MON: You must be 15 ft tall!?
Atkinson: Of course I am, why d'ya think they call me Big Ron?
MON: I just figured it was because you're obese. I know why they called you Ra...
Atkinson: Silence!
MON: Wait a minute, "present"? You're not even around anymore!
Atkinson: I was on Wife Swap the other week.
MON: Didn't watch it.
Atkinson: With Tessa Sanderson?
MON: Oh, I think I may have seen the advert for it.
Atkinson: Anyway step on the magical sheepskin jacket, we're going for a journey.
*MON steps onto a sprawled out Sheepskin jacket which takes off like a magic carpet towards it's destination*
MON: Where is this place !?
Atkinson: It's White Hart Lane, look...
*MON peers through the windows*
MON: It's Harry Redknapp, Daniel Levy and their new signings.
Atkinson: Yes, see how happy they are?
MON: They're playing Twister, look and Harry's face, his grin nearly lifts his cheeks!
Atkinson: Yes, Harry has bought players where he needed them, he's strengthend his squad and look.
*Atkinson points to the Sun paper*
MON: Jordan is pregnant, isn't pregnant, has a boyfriend, is getting married, is splitting up ..
Atkinson: The sports pages!
MON: Spurs?! Joint first?
Atkinson: It could be their year.
MON: What have I done!?
Atkinson: Now observe....
*MON and Ron fly to an alternate destination*
MON: Where am I .... Why it's that lad from this very morn!
*The lad MON spoke to is being bullied at school*
Man Utd Bully: HA! James Collins!? I've never even heard of him, that means he's rubbish!
Lad: No, I trust in Martin if he says he's good, he's good.
Chelsea Bully: Yeah like Mufasa Salif Dao! Ha ha ha!
Lad: it's Moustafa Salifou!
BCFC Bully: Ha even big 'eck is finding foreign gems, your days of 2nd City domination are over, we're rich now!
Lad: Nooooo!
*The lad runs away crying*
MON: It's all my fault children at school and adults at work up and down the country are crying on deadline day .... Because of me.
Atkinson: Yes, Martin in the transfer market you're what's known as a ****ing lazy ....
MON: Don't say it Ron, I now understand ... I know now what I must do.
A Deadline Day Carol
*We join a miserly MON (wearing PJs and a sleeping cap) waking on Transfer Deadline Day Eve*
MON: Ha, what manner of boring signing shall I make to further insult the good fans of Aston Villa today?
*MON picks up the paper*
MON: Linked to Defour? Van De Vaart? Veloso? What in the world!? If it's players they've never heard of before they want, that's what they'll get! English players they've never heard of MUHUHUHAHAHAHAHAH!
*MON laughs an evil laugh almost until he breaks into a choking fit*
MON:((cough, cough)) I best ready myself and leave for Work.
*MON heads for office bumping into a small lad in a Villa kit*
Lad: Fine day Mr.O'Neill, will you be signing us an attacking midfielder the likes of which will astound and bamboozle defences today?
MON: Listen good child, I shall sign James Collins before the morrow comes!
Lad: James.... Collins? Who is this? A scottish player of flair perhaps?
MON: No foolish boy, an anonymous defender from West Ham.
*MON again breaks into an evil laugh*
Lad: but....
MON: Hold your tongue! I fear you have a case of the Jimmy McHagens!
*MON heads to work where he generally rests on his laurels chuckling at others dealing in the transfer market and returns home*
MON: What is that eerie clanking sound.
Eerie voice: Whooooooaaaaaa,whoooooooaaa! Do I not like shackles.
MON: Graham Taylor? Is that.... you?
Taylor: Yeeeees Maaaartin, it is, I'm the ghoooooost of Villa past
MON: You're not a ghost, you're on radio five live!
Taylor: For the purposes of this story I'm a ghost.
MON: OK Taylor ghost, what say you?
Taylor: I'm here to bring you back.
MON: Back to when our "long ball" tactic was successful, are we to see your Watford or my glorious Leicester?
Taylor: No.
MON: Drat.
Taylor: Look into my magical turnip.
*MON and Taylor gaze into the magic turnip produced*
MON: It's last season!
Taylor: Yes, yes you were flying high but you still complained of a small squad.
MON: Well we do have a small squad.
Taylor: Quite, but how did you rectify this?
MON: I bought Emile, he's as good as ten men!
Taylor: Is he Martin? Is he really?
MON: Yes.
Taylor: REALLY !?!?
MON: YES!
Taylor: Behold!
*The scene changes to a cafe with David Moyes and Arsene Wenger mulling over the window*
Moyes: Och, have ye seen who wee O'Neill has signed?
Wenger: Yes, yes I have. It is Emile Heskey.
Moyes: I dinnae believe it, he's as good as handed us champion's league.
Wenger: Yes, let us laugh at him when I end this sentance.
*Moyes and Wenger laugh, increasing in volume and hysterics*
Moyes: Arsene?
Wenger: Yes?
Moyes: If your french why dee ye sound so German?
MON: Ha, what manner of boring signing shall I make to further insult the good fans of Aston Villa today?
*MON picks up the paper*
MON: Linked to Defour? Van De Vaart? Veloso? What in the world!? If it's players they've never heard of before they want, that's what they'll get! English players they've never heard of MUHUHUHAHAHAHAHAH!
*MON laughs an evil laugh almost until he breaks into a choking fit*
MON:((cough, cough)) I best ready myself and leave for Work.
*MON heads for office bumping into a small lad in a Villa kit*
Lad: Fine day Mr.O'Neill, will you be signing us an attacking midfielder the likes of which will astound and bamboozle defences today?
MON: Listen good child, I shall sign James Collins before the morrow comes!
Lad: James.... Collins? Who is this? A scottish player of flair perhaps?
MON: No foolish boy, an anonymous defender from West Ham.
*MON again breaks into an evil laugh*
Lad: but....
MON: Hold your tongue! I fear you have a case of the Jimmy McHagens!
*MON heads to work where he generally rests on his laurels chuckling at others dealing in the transfer market and returns home*
MON: What is that eerie clanking sound.
Eerie voice: Whooooooaaaaaa,whoooooooaaa! Do I not like shackles.
MON: Graham Taylor? Is that.... you?
Taylor: Yeeeees Maaaartin, it is, I'm the ghoooooost of Villa past
MON: You're not a ghost, you're on radio five live!
Taylor: For the purposes of this story I'm a ghost.
MON: OK Taylor ghost, what say you?
Taylor: I'm here to bring you back.
MON: Back to when our "long ball" tactic was successful, are we to see your Watford or my glorious Leicester?
Taylor: No.
MON: Drat.
Taylor: Look into my magical turnip.
*MON and Taylor gaze into the magic turnip produced*
MON: It's last season!
Taylor: Yes, yes you were flying high but you still complained of a small squad.
MON: Well we do have a small squad.
Taylor: Quite, but how did you rectify this?
MON: I bought Emile, he's as good as ten men!
Taylor: Is he Martin? Is he really?
MON: Yes.
Taylor: REALLY !?!?
MON: YES!
Taylor: Behold!
*The scene changes to a cafe with David Moyes and Arsene Wenger mulling over the window*
Moyes: Och, have ye seen who wee O'Neill has signed?
Wenger: Yes, yes I have. It is Emile Heskey.
Moyes: I dinnae believe it, he's as good as handed us champion's league.
Wenger: Yes, let us laugh at him when I end this sentance.
*Moyes and Wenger laugh, increasing in volume and hysterics*
Moyes: Arsene?
Wenger: Yes?
Moyes: If your french why dee ye sound so German?
Match 3: Post Fulham
*We Join the lads returning to the dressing room after victory over Fulham*
Milner: Reet ... so this time we wun, did we win proppa like?
Young: Yeah, I've explained this to you already James...
Milner: Jimmy Ashley man, Jimmy, like Jimmy Nail like.
Young: Fine "Jimmy" we lost on away goals before, this was a league match.
Milner: Reet ...Carlos what'cha up to like?
Cuellar: Och I'm emptyin' tha Fulham pleers out me pockets laddie.
*Milner stares blankly at Cuellar and turns to Cuellars interpreter*
Interpreter: He's emptying the Fulham players out of his pockets.
Milner: Ah OK.
Kamara: Flippin' heck it was hot in there.
Nevland: I have chewing gum stuck to my face and pocket fluff in my throat.
Clark: Wow, it was really great to play with you Mr.Cuellar can you give me some tips on defending.
Cuellar: Aye laddie, grow ya'self a mighty beard.
Interpreter: Grow a beard.
(Clark frowns and strokes his baby smooth chin)
Clark: But I'm 19, I can't grow a proper beard...
Cuellar: When I were 19 I had 2 beards!
Interpreter: Whan he was 19....
Clark: I heard what he said!
*Clark grabs his bag and runs off crying to the toilets*
*MON enters, the room falls silent*
MON: I've done it again lads, I'm a genius. What a great idea of mine to keep the 4-5-1 and injure Curtis.
Davies: You didn't injure me boss.
MON: Didn't I Curtis? Didn't I?
Davies: No
MON: Didn't I?
Davies: No
MON: Well fine whatever, the point is we won and that was down to me, me and my brilliant new tactic.... What's that buzzing noise?
*Clark emerges from the toilet, the team gasp with surprise*
MON: Ciaran .... Have you shaved your head and stuck the hair to your face with shower gel?
Clark: Yes boss, yes I have.
Milner: Reet ... so this time we wun, did we win proppa like?
Young: Yeah, I've explained this to you already James...
Milner: Jimmy Ashley man, Jimmy, like Jimmy Nail like.
Young: Fine "Jimmy" we lost on away goals before, this was a league match.
Milner: Reet ...Carlos what'cha up to like?
Cuellar: Och I'm emptyin' tha Fulham pleers out me pockets laddie.
*Milner stares blankly at Cuellar and turns to Cuellars interpreter*
Interpreter: He's emptying the Fulham players out of his pockets.
Milner: Ah OK.
Kamara: Flippin' heck it was hot in there.
Nevland: I have chewing gum stuck to my face and pocket fluff in my throat.
Clark: Wow, it was really great to play with you Mr.Cuellar can you give me some tips on defending.
Cuellar: Aye laddie, grow ya'self a mighty beard.
Interpreter: Grow a beard.
(Clark frowns and strokes his baby smooth chin)
Clark: But I'm 19, I can't grow a proper beard...
Cuellar: When I were 19 I had 2 beards!
Interpreter: Whan he was 19....
Clark: I heard what he said!
*Clark grabs his bag and runs off crying to the toilets*
*MON enters, the room falls silent*
MON: I've done it again lads, I'm a genius. What a great idea of mine to keep the 4-5-1 and injure Curtis.
Davies: You didn't injure me boss.
MON: Didn't I Curtis? Didn't I?
Davies: No
MON: Didn't I?
Davies: No
MON: Well fine whatever, the point is we won and that was down to me, me and my brilliant new tactic.... What's that buzzing noise?
*Clark emerges from the toilet, the team gasp with surprise*
MON: Ciaran .... Have you shaved your head and stuck the hair to your face with shower gel?
Clark: Yes boss, yes I have.
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