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!?