*The lads are preparing for their FA Cup clash against Blackburn*
MON: OK lads, I myself have played in many a semi-final, they're nothing to be scared of.
*Young raises his hand*
MON: Ashley?
A.Young: Boss this is the FA Cup round three match.
MON: I think you'll find we're playing Blackburn Ashley. I'll thank you not to ....
*MON shuffles through his notes*
MON: .... So round three of the greatest ever cup competition, except the European Cup of course back when it was about proper champions, back in the days where men were men and ....
Milner: I bet cha dinnae play in tha snoor like us boss like.
MON: Snow? Snow? There was none of this undersoil heating nonsense. We played in four feet of snow, barefoot, with house bricks for balls.
Carew: Well they would be boss.
MON: No, I meant instead of footballs. The amount of long ball related deaths was phenomenal.
Friedel: Is that why we always play the long ball now?
MON: Yes (MON wipes a tear) in memory of players we lost. John Robertson took a long ball to the head in a final once, his death hit me so hard.
Robertson: I'm here Martin, I'm still alive!
MON: In our hearts John, in our hearts.
Robertson: No, I'm not dead, look I'm right here.
MON: If John was with us now he'd be so proud of what I've gone on to achieve.
Robertson: What're you talking about!? I'm stood right here. Someone tell him that I'm alive.
*Robertson looks pleadingly at the players*
Delph: I don't know ..... If Mr. Martin says you're dead how can we tell you're not?
*The players nod in agreement with Delph's logic*
Robertson: Because I'm alive! Look I'm alive!
*John Robertson does a dance at the front of the dressing room, Heskey cries into Downing's shoulder*
Heskey: It's so sad.
MON: It is Emile, it is. So go out there and win, for Robbo!
All the lads: For Robbo!
Thursday 31 December 2009
Thursday 24 December 2009
Weekend at Benni's
MON has signed Benni McCarthy from Blackburn Rovers, a player who many had thought had died.
The signing:
*Big Sam has dropped off Benni McCarthy in MON's office MON has talked about the club, the fans, training facilities and his own illustrious football history*
MON: So Benni, any questions about the club?
*Benni sits in silence, the sunglasses he was wearing slide off his face*
MON: Not much of a talker or blinker are you Benni? Big Sam had said that of you, not to worry though there's more than enough character in our dressing room.
*Benni's leans forward slowly and his face slams off MON's desk*
MON: Tired are you? Well it has been a long day of talks, you get some rest and I'll introduce to the lads tomorrow.
.......
In the Dressing Room:
MON: Everyone this is our new signing Benni McCarthy
All the Lads: Hi Benni!
*Young raises his hand*
MON: Yes Ashley?
Young: Boss, I don't think he's ..... I think that he's dead.
*McCarthy slumps and falls of his chair.*
MON: Now look what you've done you've upset Benni! He's not dead, Big Sam just preferred Samba and he's not been featured in the Rovers set up for a while.
Young: Look he's not moving, he stinks and he's a bit green.
MON: He's just a little nervous and nauseous Ashley, give him time to settle in.
.......
Season end:
MON: .... And the player's player of the season is .... Benni McCarthy!
*All the lads cheer "Benni! Benni! Benni!", MON approaches McCarthy with the microphone*
MON: A fantastic return 20 goals in so few games what have you got to say about your record and winning the award Benni?
*MON holds the mic to Benni McCarthy, he sits motionless and silent*
MON: He lets the goals do the talking lads!
*The lads all laugh and cheer again*
The signing:
*Big Sam has dropped off Benni McCarthy in MON's office MON has talked about the club, the fans, training facilities and his own illustrious football history*
MON: So Benni, any questions about the club?
*Benni sits in silence, the sunglasses he was wearing slide off his face*
MON: Not much of a talker or blinker are you Benni? Big Sam had said that of you, not to worry though there's more than enough character in our dressing room.
*Benni's leans forward slowly and his face slams off MON's desk*
MON: Tired are you? Well it has been a long day of talks, you get some rest and I'll introduce to the lads tomorrow.
.......
In the Dressing Room:
MON: Everyone this is our new signing Benni McCarthy
All the Lads: Hi Benni!
*Young raises his hand*
MON: Yes Ashley?
Young: Boss, I don't think he's ..... I think that he's dead.
*McCarthy slumps and falls of his chair.*
MON: Now look what you've done you've upset Benni! He's not dead, Big Sam just preferred Samba and he's not been featured in the Rovers set up for a while.
Young: Look he's not moving, he stinks and he's a bit green.
MON: He's just a little nervous and nauseous Ashley, give him time to settle in.
.......
Season end:
MON: .... And the player's player of the season is .... Benni McCarthy!
*All the lads cheer "Benni! Benni! Benni!", MON approaches McCarthy with the microphone*
MON: A fantastic return 20 goals in so few games what have you got to say about your record and winning the award Benni?
*MON holds the mic to Benni McCarthy, he sits motionless and silent*
MON: He lets the goals do the talking lads!
*The lads all laugh and cheer again*
Sunday 20 December 2009
Match 18: Stoke City
*We join the lads gearing up for their match against Stoke City*
MON: OK lads, we faltered last season in this match, not this time though I have a .....
*The door is knocked with panic, MON answers the door, it's James Beattie*
Beattie: er...Hello Martin, how are you?
MON: I'm fine thank you James .... Why are you knocking our dressing room door .... and in your underpants?
Beattie: Oh, I, er ....
Pulis: BEATTIE!?!?!
Beattie: Can I come in and sit with your team Martin please?
MON: No, and I think I can hear your manager calling you.
Beattie: Nah, I think that was just the stadium announcer testing.
Pulis: BEEEEAAAAATTIE!?!?!
MON: I'm pretty sure that's Tony. He's calling you, I'd get back to your dressing room.
*Beattie forces his way into the Villa dressing room pointing at a picture on the wall*
Beattie (nervously): Oh what a lovely picture, is that you Martin?
MON: As a matter of fact it is, that's me winning the European Cup with Nottingham Forest I keep it up in the dressing room to inspire the team to be winners and remind everyone how magnificent I am.
Beattie: Wow really, was it good .... winning the final?
MON: Yes, I mean I won it almost single handedly of course, it was a great day for me.
Beattie: Score all the goals did you?
MON: Well no but ....Wait a minute what are you doing? Is this some kind of diversionary tactic?
*the door knocks, MON answers it, it's Tony Pulis, he's smiling politely*
Pulis: Oh, hello Martin ... Have you seen ..... Ah James there you are I've been looking all over for you.
Beattie: Oh ... Have you boss? Sorry I didn't realise.
*Pulis puts an arm around Beattie and walks him to the door*
Pulis: He's not been causing you any trouble has he Martin? Because if he has.
*Pulis jokingly waves his fist whilst grinning, Beattie is shaking*
MON: No, no Tony we were just having a chat.
Pulis: Ah the little scamp, come along now James we need to talk.
Beattie: OK .... Boss (gulp!)
*Pulis leads Beattie out of the door, Beattie looks over his shoulder and mouths the words "help me" before the door closes. MON turns back to the lads*
MON: What a lovely lad that James is, you could all learn from his interest in football history and is there any manager who shows more concern for his players than Tony? What nice fellas this Stoke lot are.
MON: OK lads, we faltered last season in this match, not this time though I have a .....
*The door is knocked with panic, MON answers the door, it's James Beattie*
Beattie: er...Hello Martin, how are you?
MON: I'm fine thank you James .... Why are you knocking our dressing room door .... and in your underpants?
Beattie: Oh, I, er ....
Pulis: BEATTIE!?!?!
Beattie: Can I come in and sit with your team Martin please?
MON: No, and I think I can hear your manager calling you.
Beattie: Nah, I think that was just the stadium announcer testing.
Pulis: BEEEEAAAAATTIE!?!?!
MON: I'm pretty sure that's Tony. He's calling you, I'd get back to your dressing room.
*Beattie forces his way into the Villa dressing room pointing at a picture on the wall*
Beattie (nervously): Oh what a lovely picture, is that you Martin?
MON: As a matter of fact it is, that's me winning the European Cup with Nottingham Forest I keep it up in the dressing room to inspire the team to be winners and remind everyone how magnificent I am.
Beattie: Wow really, was it good .... winning the final?
MON: Yes, I mean I won it almost single handedly of course, it was a great day for me.
Beattie: Score all the goals did you?
MON: Well no but ....Wait a minute what are you doing? Is this some kind of diversionary tactic?
*the door knocks, MON answers it, it's Tony Pulis, he's smiling politely*
Pulis: Oh, hello Martin ... Have you seen ..... Ah James there you are I've been looking all over for you.
Beattie: Oh ... Have you boss? Sorry I didn't realise.
*Pulis puts an arm around Beattie and walks him to the door*
Pulis: He's not been causing you any trouble has he Martin? Because if he has.
*Pulis jokingly waves his fist whilst grinning, Beattie is shaking*
MON: No, no Tony we were just having a chat.
Pulis: Ah the little scamp, come along now James we need to talk.
Beattie: OK .... Boss (gulp!)
*Pulis leads Beattie out of the door, Beattie looks over his shoulder and mouths the words "help me" before the door closes. MON turns back to the lads*
MON: What a lovely lad that James is, you could all learn from his interest in football history and is there any manager who shows more concern for his players than Tony? What nice fellas this Stoke lot are.
Thursday 17 December 2009
Match 17: Post Sunderland
*We join the lads celebrating yet another victory*
MON: Excellent lads, excellent. Now before I go on to tell you about ....
*MON is interrupted by an odd noise, he casts his gaze over the players most of which look confused or are shrugging their shoulders*
MON: Hmmm, anyway we're showing good form, I'm proud of the lot of you, especially you young Jim, what a cracking hit, the referee was right to award you with the gold card of merit.
Milner: It were a yellow card .... For fouling boss
MON: And a grand foul it was too I'm sure. Now we must stay focused on...
*MON is interrupted by the odd noise again. The door knocks, MON opens it to Steve Bruce*
MON: Steve ... Are you alright?
*Bruce looks incredibly worried and quite pale*
Bruce: Martin, you've not seen ma Darren Bent have ya like? I've not seen him since just after kick-off.
MON: I'm afraid not Steve, I shall keep my eye ....
*The odd noise gets louder*
Bruce: That's ma Darren! I'd know the sound of his muffled struggle anywhere!
*MON and Bruce track the sound down to Richard Dunne's holdall bag*
MON: What's in the bag Richard?
Dunne: Nothin' dere bass.
MON: So I'm not going to find a Sunderland striker if I unzip it?
*Dunnes eyes shift to the ground, MON unzips it, Darren Bent spits out the rolled up Villa sock in his mouth*
Bent: Boss, you saved me!
*Bruce and Bent hug*
MON: I'm sorry Steve. Richard what have I told you about kidnapping Premier League strikers!?
Dunne (still looking down): To do it bass?
MON: No Richard, NOT to do it, why must you keep embarrassing me in front of the other managers!?
*Bruce leads a crying Bent out of the Dressing Room*
MON: Nice work Richard.
Dunne: Cheers bass. What shall we do with this one?
*Dunne turns around to reveal a frowning Kenwyne Jones with his arms folded in his back pocket*
MON: Excellent lads, excellent. Now before I go on to tell you about ....
*MON is interrupted by an odd noise, he casts his gaze over the players most of which look confused or are shrugging their shoulders*
MON: Hmmm, anyway we're showing good form, I'm proud of the lot of you, especially you young Jim, what a cracking hit, the referee was right to award you with the gold card of merit.
Milner: It were a yellow card .... For fouling boss
MON: And a grand foul it was too I'm sure. Now we must stay focused on...
*MON is interrupted by the odd noise again. The door knocks, MON opens it to Steve Bruce*
MON: Steve ... Are you alright?
*Bruce looks incredibly worried and quite pale*
Bruce: Martin, you've not seen ma Darren Bent have ya like? I've not seen him since just after kick-off.
MON: I'm afraid not Steve, I shall keep my eye ....
*The odd noise gets louder*
Bruce: That's ma Darren! I'd know the sound of his muffled struggle anywhere!
*MON and Bruce track the sound down to Richard Dunne's holdall bag*
MON: What's in the bag Richard?
Dunne: Nothin' dere bass.
MON: So I'm not going to find a Sunderland striker if I unzip it?
*Dunnes eyes shift to the ground, MON unzips it, Darren Bent spits out the rolled up Villa sock in his mouth*
Bent: Boss, you saved me!
*Bruce and Bent hug*
MON: I'm sorry Steve. Richard what have I told you about kidnapping Premier League strikers!?
Dunne (still looking down): To do it bass?
MON: No Richard, NOT to do it, why must you keep embarrassing me in front of the other managers!?
*Bruce leads a crying Bent out of the Dressing Room*
MON: Nice work Richard.
Dunne: Cheers bass. What shall we do with this one?
*Dunne turns around to reveal a frowning Kenwyne Jones with his arms folded in his back pocket*
Match 17: Sunderland
*MON is jigging at the front of the dressing room Downing leans into Milner*
Downing (whispering): Does he usually jig before a match like?
Milner: Noor, he's still celebrating tha Man United match man.
MON (wiping the sweat from his brow): Phew, OK lads before I start our team talk I have a message from legendary ex-Villa manager Ron Atkinson.
Delph: Mr.Bean managed Villa?
Heskey: No, that's Rowan Atkinson.
Delph: Is he funny like Mr.Bean?
Heskey: More like Bernard Manning.
*MON opens the envelope and begins reading the message from Big Ron*
MON: "Well done boys. Congratulations on stuffing United"
*The lads look at each other proudly*
MON:"I told them sacking me for Fergie would be a mistake and look at them now! I see you have Sunderland next match, some of you may be fearful of Darren Bent, don't be, he's what I'd call ....."
*MON goes pale, screws up the message and tosses it over his shoulder.*
MON: Anyway... Who's ready to beat Sunderland!?
*The lads all cheer, Ashley Young raises his hand*
MON: Ashley?
A.Young: Boss don't we have the annoying tendancy to score wins against big teams then capitulate in matches you'd expect us to win like this one by approaching with an over confident, some would say arrogant attitude?
MON: Nonsense, Ashley we'll beat Sunderland, beat them good, we're far better than them, they don't stand a chance! I expect 20% effort and a result out there today lads!
*The lads all cheer again, Young sits back in his chair arms folded as the lads knock his head with their pre-emptive celebrations, Carew is drinking champagne from a bottle, Dunne and Cuellar are popping party popper streamers everywhere. Heskey is practicing over-zealous goal celebrations in the middle of the room and Gabby is limboing under a stick held by Downing and Milner*
Downing (whispering): Does he usually jig before a match like?
Milner: Noor, he's still celebrating tha Man United match man.
MON (wiping the sweat from his brow): Phew, OK lads before I start our team talk I have a message from legendary ex-Villa manager Ron Atkinson.
Delph: Mr.Bean managed Villa?
Heskey: No, that's Rowan Atkinson.
Delph: Is he funny like Mr.Bean?
Heskey: More like Bernard Manning.
*MON opens the envelope and begins reading the message from Big Ron*
MON: "Well done boys. Congratulations on stuffing United"
*The lads look at each other proudly*
MON:"I told them sacking me for Fergie would be a mistake and look at them now! I see you have Sunderland next match, some of you may be fearful of Darren Bent, don't be, he's what I'd call ....."
*MON goes pale, screws up the message and tosses it over his shoulder.*
MON: Anyway... Who's ready to beat Sunderland!?
*The lads all cheer, Ashley Young raises his hand*
MON: Ashley?
A.Young: Boss don't we have the annoying tendancy to score wins against big teams then capitulate in matches you'd expect us to win like this one by approaching with an over confident, some would say arrogant attitude?
MON: Nonsense, Ashley we'll beat Sunderland, beat them good, we're far better than them, they don't stand a chance! I expect 20% effort and a result out there today lads!
*The lads all cheer again, Young sits back in his chair arms folded as the lads knock his head with their pre-emptive celebrations, Carew is drinking champagne from a bottle, Dunne and Cuellar are popping party popper streamers everywhere. Heskey is practicing over-zealous goal celebrations in the middle of the room and Gabby is limboing under a stick held by Downing and Milner*
Monday 14 December 2009
Match 16: Post Man Utd
*The lads are jubilant after their victory over Man Utd*
MON: Alright lads, settle down, settle down. Great performance out there. Finally we've beaten Man Utd, and since they're the champions do you know what that means?
A.Young: More than 8 seconds analysis after the match on Match of the Day boss?
MON: Well perhaps Ashley, but probably not, it means WE are the Premier League champions!
A.Young: Boss I'm not sure that's how it works, to be champions you have to win the whole.....
MON: Oh yes, champions! They say to be the best you have to beat the best and they also say you're only as good as your last match. Hit the music Robbo.
*John Robertson presses play on the CD player he is holding, MON pulls a microphone from nowhere*
MON: WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS MY FRIEEEEEEENDS, AND WE'LL ......
*MON points the microphone to Fabian Delph*
Delph: .......
MON: Come on Fabian, when I point the microphone at you you sing the line.
Delph: I don't know the words.
MON: WHAT!? it's Queen, it's a classic!
Delph: I didn't even know the Queen sang songs I thought she just, you know waved and stuff. Did you know Nathan?
*Delfouneso shrugs his shoulders*
MON: It's QUEEN not THE Queen.
Agbonlahor: Hang on ...... How many Queens are there?
MON: Just one, well there are two but one's a band and the other is the monarch.
*Delfouneso, Agbonlahor and Delph look at each other confused*
MON: Look forget that anyway we are the new champions and as such....
*Sir Alex Ferguson strides into the dressing room he's wearing a full suit of armour, sneering at all the Villa players*
SAF: Sorry ta interrupt Martin, well I would be sorry if I wasn't so rude and you weren't a bunch of cheaters!
MON: Hey! We're not....
SAF: You shut your mouth Martin, I'm a knight and I don't know how ya cheated but it smells of magic ta me!
MON: Sir Alex, magic doesn't exist and....
SAF: It's SIR Alex!
MON: I said Sir Alex.
SAF: And don't you ferget it ya cheating sorcerer! Anyway I'm here to throw a bottle of wine at you and call you a cheater as is the tradition with away winners at Old Trafford
MON: Sir Alex, I'm not a sorcerer.
SAF: That's exactly the type of trickery I'd expect from a sorcerer
*The CD player plays the next track 'It's a kind of magic'*
SAF: And what manner of sorcery is this!? A box which plays music and speaks of magic! The F.A will hear of this make no mistake!
*Sir Alex Ferguson throws a bottle of red wine that smashes on the wall and leaves, the lads look around in silence then begin to celebrate once more.*
MON: Alright lads, settle down, settle down. Great performance out there. Finally we've beaten Man Utd, and since they're the champions do you know what that means?
A.Young: More than 8 seconds analysis after the match on Match of the Day boss?
MON: Well perhaps Ashley, but probably not, it means WE are the Premier League champions!
A.Young: Boss I'm not sure that's how it works, to be champions you have to win the whole.....
MON: Oh yes, champions! They say to be the best you have to beat the best and they also say you're only as good as your last match. Hit the music Robbo.
*John Robertson presses play on the CD player he is holding, MON pulls a microphone from nowhere*
MON: WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS MY FRIEEEEEEENDS, AND WE'LL ......
*MON points the microphone to Fabian Delph*
Delph: .......
MON: Come on Fabian, when I point the microphone at you you sing the line.
Delph: I don't know the words.
MON: WHAT!? it's Queen, it's a classic!
Delph: I didn't even know the Queen sang songs I thought she just, you know waved and stuff. Did you know Nathan?
*Delfouneso shrugs his shoulders*
MON: It's QUEEN not THE Queen.
Agbonlahor: Hang on ...... How many Queens are there?
MON: Just one, well there are two but one's a band and the other is the monarch.
*Delfouneso, Agbonlahor and Delph look at each other confused*
MON: Look forget that anyway we are the new champions and as such....
*Sir Alex Ferguson strides into the dressing room he's wearing a full suit of armour, sneering at all the Villa players*
SAF: Sorry ta interrupt Martin, well I would be sorry if I wasn't so rude and you weren't a bunch of cheaters!
MON: Hey! We're not....
SAF: You shut your mouth Martin, I'm a knight and I don't know how ya cheated but it smells of magic ta me!
MON: Sir Alex, magic doesn't exist and....
SAF: It's SIR Alex!
MON: I said Sir Alex.
SAF: And don't you ferget it ya cheating sorcerer! Anyway I'm here to throw a bottle of wine at you and call you a cheater as is the tradition with away winners at Old Trafford
MON: Sir Alex, I'm not a sorcerer.
SAF: That's exactly the type of trickery I'd expect from a sorcerer
*The CD player plays the next track 'It's a kind of magic'*
SAF: And what manner of sorcery is this!? A box which plays music and speaks of magic! The F.A will hear of this make no mistake!
*Sir Alex Ferguson throws a bottle of red wine that smashes on the wall and leaves, the lads look around in silence then begin to celebrate once more.*
Friday 11 December 2009
Match 16: Manchester United
*We join the lads nervous before their confrontation at Old Trafford, they're hustling to see who's on the team sheet*
Friedel: Yes! Yeeeeeeee Haaaaaaaaa!
*Friedel over enthusiastically celebrates, Sidwell rolls his eyes*
Sidwell: *sigh* Every week this is. Am I on it? I have a feeling I'll be in this week.
Petrov (sniggering): Yes Steve, you are on the list.
*Sidwell pumps his fist and works his way to the sheet running his finger down the list*
Sidwell: Hey! I'm not in the first team Stilyan ...... Wait.... I'm not even on the subs bench ...... "Ballboy: Sidwell"!?
*MON Enters*
MON: Have you not read the team sheet Steven? What are you doing here?
Sidwell: but ....
MON: Off you toddle.
*Sidwell leaves the dressing room and joins the ballboys and girls getting their briefing*
Ballboy#1: alwright guvna!?
Ballboy#2: 'Ow's ya doin' me auld china?
Sidwell: Great it's like "Oliver!" in here!
*Back in the Dressing Room.....*
MON: Chins up lads, now I know we usually write off this tie as a loss, but this time things will be different!
Young: How so boss?
MON: Moustapha! Wheel them in!
*Salifou wheels in gas canister after gas canister*
Young: What's that?
MON: It's Oxygen!
*Gabby scratches his head*
Agbonlahor: How's getting rid of spots going to help us beat Man U boss?
MON: Not Oxy 10, Oxygen! I've been watching tapes and we're running out of steam after the 130th minute. With this Oxygen we'll have the boost to deal with whatever length of time Sir Alex imposes on the match.
Salifou: Boss, I'm tired of just delivering you the "secret weapon" and being the butt of your jokes. I'm an international footballer, I deserve respect and I want to play.
*the dressing room erupts with laughter*
Salifou: What? I'm not joking.
*the dressing room erupts with laughter again*
Salifou: I demand respect!
*the dressing room falls about*
MON (lifting his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes): Oh Moustapha, you're magnificent.
Salifou: So I start?
MON: No.
*the dressing room erupts with laughter once more, Brad Friedel is still pelvic thrusting with gusto in the background*
Friedel: In the team! Oh yeah baby! Number 1!
Friedel: Yes! Yeeeeeeee Haaaaaaaaa!
*Friedel over enthusiastically celebrates, Sidwell rolls his eyes*
Sidwell: *sigh* Every week this is. Am I on it? I have a feeling I'll be in this week.
Petrov (sniggering): Yes Steve, you are on the list.
*Sidwell pumps his fist and works his way to the sheet running his finger down the list*
Sidwell: Hey! I'm not in the first team Stilyan ...... Wait.... I'm not even on the subs bench ...... "Ballboy: Sidwell"!?
*MON Enters*
MON: Have you not read the team sheet Steven? What are you doing here?
Sidwell: but ....
MON: Off you toddle.
*Sidwell leaves the dressing room and joins the ballboys and girls getting their briefing*
Ballboy#1: alwright guvna!?
Ballboy#2: 'Ow's ya doin' me auld china?
Sidwell: Great it's like "Oliver!" in here!
*Back in the Dressing Room.....*
MON: Chins up lads, now I know we usually write off this tie as a loss, but this time things will be different!
Young: How so boss?
MON: Moustapha! Wheel them in!
*Salifou wheels in gas canister after gas canister*
Young: What's that?
MON: It's Oxygen!
*Gabby scratches his head*
Agbonlahor: How's getting rid of spots going to help us beat Man U boss?
MON: Not Oxy 10, Oxygen! I've been watching tapes and we're running out of steam after the 130th minute. With this Oxygen we'll have the boost to deal with whatever length of time Sir Alex imposes on the match.
Salifou: Boss, I'm tired of just delivering you the "secret weapon" and being the butt of your jokes. I'm an international footballer, I deserve respect and I want to play.
*the dressing room erupts with laughter*
Salifou: What? I'm not joking.
*the dressing room erupts with laughter again*
Salifou: I demand respect!
*the dressing room falls about*
MON (lifting his glasses to wipe the tears from his eyes): Oh Moustapha, you're magnificent.
Salifou: So I start?
MON: No.
*the dressing room erupts with laughter once more, Brad Friedel is still pelvic thrusting with gusto in the background*
Friedel: In the team! Oh yeah baby! Number 1!
Monday 7 December 2009
Christmas Party!
*MON has gathered the lads together before their Christmas Party*
MON: Now I know Big John will lead you a merry dance tonight.
*John Carew mimics playing a flute and gyrates, the lads laugh*
MON: But you lads look after yourselves, you're all my babies.
*MON dabs a handkerchief on his tongue and scrubs Delph's cheek*
Delph: Get off boss, you're embarrassing me in front of the guys.
MON: Gabriel.
Gabby: .........
MON: Gabriel?
*Gabby's gaze follows a fly around the room.*
MON: Gabriel!?
Gabby: yes Boss?
MON: You especially, if you can't be good, be careful.
Gabby: OK.
MON: You know what I mean by "being careful" don't you?
Gabby: Say my name's Cameron Jerome boss?
MON: No, but that'll do. Anyway have fun lads.
*The lads whoop and shout as they follow John Carew out*
Sidwell(rubbing his hands): Ho ho! What you got planned for us big man!?
Heskey: A night of drunken debauchery and revellry no doubt!?
Carew: It's a surprise guys, I wanted to show you how I get down!
NRC: Oh yeah! I've brought my party wig, I'm ready to have it large!
*NRC reveals an oversized afro wig, he puts it on*
Cuellar: and I've bought me beard snood, last time I went out with Big John I woke up with half of it shaved off and a kidney missing.
*The lads pile on to the coach, Carew takes the wheel and they drive to an unknown location*
NRC: What's this looks like a community centre or something?
Sidwell: Probably some exclusive, secret strip club Nige.
Carew: OK, here we are.
*Carew leads the lads into the buliding*
Carew: Now this is a pretty new club ....
Sidwell (excitedly): See nige what did I tell you.
Carew: I've been coming since the start so be polite to the patrons.
NRC: Oh I'll be polite, I've got nothing but £50 notes.
*Carew leads the lads into a large room, there are a number of elderly ladies sat in a circle*
Carew: Hello Ethel.
Ethel: Oh Hello deary.
*The lads look at each other and raise their eyes to a banner*
Sidwell: Crochet club!?
Carew: Yeah, it's an excellent way to unwind, look Ashley I made you some gloves.
*Carew hands an annoyed Young the gloves*
Young: These gloves only have have three fingers.
Carew: Well I'm new to it, here have a bobbly hat.
*Carew places the massive hat on Young's head, Young lifts the hat so his eyes can be seen*
Young: I'm going home!
*Young turns and leaves, others follow*
Carew: Wait, don't be like that. Come back ...... I have scarves!
Sidwell: I'll have a scarf, it gets cold on the bench.
MON: Now I know Big John will lead you a merry dance tonight.
*John Carew mimics playing a flute and gyrates, the lads laugh*
MON: But you lads look after yourselves, you're all my babies.
*MON dabs a handkerchief on his tongue and scrubs Delph's cheek*
Delph: Get off boss, you're embarrassing me in front of the guys.
MON: Gabriel.
Gabby: .........
MON: Gabriel?
*Gabby's gaze follows a fly around the room.*
MON: Gabriel!?
Gabby: yes Boss?
MON: You especially, if you can't be good, be careful.
Gabby: OK.
MON: You know what I mean by "being careful" don't you?
Gabby: Say my name's Cameron Jerome boss?
MON: No, but that'll do. Anyway have fun lads.
*The lads whoop and shout as they follow John Carew out*
Sidwell(rubbing his hands): Ho ho! What you got planned for us big man!?
Heskey: A night of drunken debauchery and revellry no doubt!?
Carew: It's a surprise guys, I wanted to show you how I get down!
NRC: Oh yeah! I've brought my party wig, I'm ready to have it large!
*NRC reveals an oversized afro wig, he puts it on*
Cuellar: and I've bought me beard snood, last time I went out with Big John I woke up with half of it shaved off and a kidney missing.
*The lads pile on to the coach, Carew takes the wheel and they drive to an unknown location*
NRC: What's this looks like a community centre or something?
Sidwell: Probably some exclusive, secret strip club Nige.
Carew: OK, here we are.
*Carew leads the lads into the buliding*
Carew: Now this is a pretty new club ....
Sidwell (excitedly): See nige what did I tell you.
Carew: I've been coming since the start so be polite to the patrons.
NRC: Oh I'll be polite, I've got nothing but £50 notes.
*Carew leads the lads into a large room, there are a number of elderly ladies sat in a circle*
Carew: Hello Ethel.
Ethel: Oh Hello deary.
*The lads look at each other and raise their eyes to a banner*
Sidwell: Crochet club!?
Carew: Yeah, it's an excellent way to unwind, look Ashley I made you some gloves.
*Carew hands an annoyed Young the gloves*
Young: These gloves only have have three fingers.
Carew: Well I'm new to it, here have a bobbly hat.
*Carew places the massive hat on Young's head, Young lifts the hat so his eyes can be seen*
Young: I'm going home!
*Young turns and leaves, others follow*
Carew: Wait, don't be like that. Come back ...... I have scarves!
Sidwell: I'll have a scarf, it gets cold on the bench.
Match 15: Post Hull City
*We join the lads celebrating their 3-0 victory over Hull, MON is doing his "victory jig"*
Downing: Soor boss I reckon that was a reet good match eh?
*MON fixes Downing with an icy stare whilst still jigging, NRC leans into Downing*
NRC (whispering): You don't interrupt the jig.
Downing: Oh, sorry I didn't know like.
*MON ends the jig*
MON: Great match lads, great match. Steven that was the best match you've had in a Villa shirt, you've never been so productive.
Sidwell: Well technically boss I wasn't in the Villa shirt ...
MON: I said "a" not "the". The days of your orange bonce clashing with the claret and blue are over, there's a new man in the middle, James Milner. What a managing masterstroke for me to move him there, who but me, Martin O'Neill fantastic player and excellent manager would've thought of that?
A.Young: Well I'd seen the idea bandied about on few forums and....
MON: Forums!? Ashley what have I told you about messing about on that interweb! Need I remind you of Russia?
*Young hangs his head*
A.Young (quietly): No boss.
MON: Need I!?
A.Young: No boss.
MON: .. And furthermore I suspect that James and Emile's bandaged hands have something to do with your online "competitions"!
*Young, Heskey and Milner all shift their eyes guitily*
MON: Oh yes don't think you can pull fast ones over my eyes!
Robertson: You mean the wool Martin. Pull the wool over your eyes.
MON: No Johnno, no I don't.
Downing: Soor boss I reckon that was a reet good match eh?
*MON fixes Downing with an icy stare whilst still jigging, NRC leans into Downing*
NRC (whispering): You don't interrupt the jig.
Downing: Oh, sorry I didn't know like.
*MON ends the jig*
MON: Great match lads, great match. Steven that was the best match you've had in a Villa shirt, you've never been so productive.
Sidwell: Well technically boss I wasn't in the Villa shirt ...
MON: I said "a" not "the". The days of your orange bonce clashing with the claret and blue are over, there's a new man in the middle, James Milner. What a managing masterstroke for me to move him there, who but me, Martin O'Neill fantastic player and excellent manager would've thought of that?
A.Young: Well I'd seen the idea bandied about on few forums and....
MON: Forums!? Ashley what have I told you about messing about on that interweb! Need I remind you of Russia?
*Young hangs his head*
A.Young (quietly): No boss.
MON: Need I!?
A.Young: No boss.
MON: .. And furthermore I suspect that James and Emile's bandaged hands have something to do with your online "competitions"!
*Young, Heskey and Milner all shift their eyes guitily*
MON: Oh yes don't think you can pull fast ones over my eyes!
Robertson: You mean the wool Martin. Pull the wool over your eyes.
MON: No Johnno, no I don't.
Match 15: Hull City
*We join the lads gearing up for their clash against Hull*
MON: Hi lads, now I've got a treat in store for you .... Ex-England and Villa manager Graham Taylor and ex-Villa legend Ian Taylor, the Taylor brothers everyone!
*The lads applaud as Ian and Graham Taylor enter the dressing room, they greet the players gratefully*
I.Taylor: We're not brothers Martin.
MON: Had a fight have you? Family eh, who'd have 'em?
I.Taylor: No, I mean we're no relation we just share a name and ....
MON: Whilst you're here actually the zip's gone funny on my favourite tracksuit jacket, I was wondering if one of you guys could...
I.Taylor: We're not tailors either.
G.Taylor: Speak for yourself Ian, I cut a wonderful suit.
*Graham fiddles with MON's tracksuit jacket, Ian frowns*
G.Taylor: There you go.
*MON runs the zip up and down*
MON: Amazing, it's perfect. Sorry, I'm taking up your time please "entertain the troops".
*Graham turns to the team*
G.Taylor: Do I not lot like orange!
*The lads all laugh*
Heskey (wipes a tear): Gets me everytime.
*Graham produces a pointer hitting a picture of Phil Brown on the wall*
G.Taylor: ...and this man is too orangey for crows!
*Ashley Young laughing raises his hand*
G.Taylor: Yes, you there?
Young: Like Kiora Mr.Taylor?
G.Taylor: Like what? What're you talking about lad? Anyway, also look out for this bloke 'ere.
*Graham hits a picture of Jimmy Bullard*
G.Taylor: What he lacks in teeth he makes up for with footballing ability.
*Ian Taylor's phone rings, he reaches into his suit-jacket pocket*
I.Taylor: It's mum, she wants to know what we want for tea.
G.Taylor: Have we got fish fingers?
*Ian turns to talk on the phone, he turns back*
I.Taylor: Yes.
G.Taylor: Not the orange ones though the batter ones ..... And no carrots.
*Sidwell raises his hand to ask a question*
G.Taylor: Put your hand down son, I don't talk to your sort.
MON (sheepishly): O.....K! Ian and Graham everyone!
*MON sheperds them out of the dressing room, no-one but Heskey applauds*
Heskey: Wooooooo, legend! Wooooooo!!!
*The rest of the lads stare at Heskey, he sits*
MON: Hi lads, now I've got a treat in store for you .... Ex-England and Villa manager Graham Taylor and ex-Villa legend Ian Taylor, the Taylor brothers everyone!
*The lads applaud as Ian and Graham Taylor enter the dressing room, they greet the players gratefully*
I.Taylor: We're not brothers Martin.
MON: Had a fight have you? Family eh, who'd have 'em?
I.Taylor: No, I mean we're no relation we just share a name and ....
MON: Whilst you're here actually the zip's gone funny on my favourite tracksuit jacket, I was wondering if one of you guys could...
I.Taylor: We're not tailors either.
G.Taylor: Speak for yourself Ian, I cut a wonderful suit.
*Graham fiddles with MON's tracksuit jacket, Ian frowns*
G.Taylor: There you go.
*MON runs the zip up and down*
MON: Amazing, it's perfect. Sorry, I'm taking up your time please "entertain the troops".
*Graham turns to the team*
G.Taylor: Do I not lot like orange!
*The lads all laugh*
Heskey (wipes a tear): Gets me everytime.
*Graham produces a pointer hitting a picture of Phil Brown on the wall*
G.Taylor: ...and this man is too orangey for crows!
*Ashley Young laughing raises his hand*
G.Taylor: Yes, you there?
Young: Like Kiora Mr.Taylor?
G.Taylor: Like what? What're you talking about lad? Anyway, also look out for this bloke 'ere.
*Graham hits a picture of Jimmy Bullard*
G.Taylor: What he lacks in teeth he makes up for with footballing ability.
*Ian Taylor's phone rings, he reaches into his suit-jacket pocket*
I.Taylor: It's mum, she wants to know what we want for tea.
G.Taylor: Have we got fish fingers?
*Ian turns to talk on the phone, he turns back*
I.Taylor: Yes.
G.Taylor: Not the orange ones though the batter ones ..... And no carrots.
*Sidwell raises his hand to ask a question*
G.Taylor: Put your hand down son, I don't talk to your sort.
MON (sheepishly): O.....K! Ian and Graham everyone!
*MON sheperds them out of the dressing room, no-one but Heskey applauds*
Heskey: Wooooooo, legend! Wooooooo!!!
*The rest of the lads stare at Heskey, he sits*
Carling Cup: Post Portsmouth
*We join the lads celebrating their 4-2 victory over Pompey, champagne is popping and horns are playing on the coach which is sitting outside Fratton Park*
Heskey: Get Up!
All the lads: Get on up!
Heskey: Get Up!
All the lads: Get on up!
Heskey: Get on the scene!
All the lads: Get on up!
Heskey: I'm a goal machine!
*Heskey does a dance (including a spin and "jumping into the splits") in the aisle of the coach*
All the lads: Yay! Go Heskey! Go Heskey....
MON: Lads, lads calm down. Great win out there tonight. Nice to see my boys Emile and Stilyan getting on the scoresheet.
*MON tussles Heskey and Petrovs hair*
Young: Stan's was an own goal boss.
MON: Well it's like they say "they all count" and Emile is growing into the 20 a season striker I knew he was, if we can just tap his potential in the coming years...
Young: Potential? He must be 40 boss!
MON: Look if Fergie's lads are "kids" at 22 then my young gun Emile still has plenty of time to come good.
*Emile nods, Young sighs*
MON: and Stuart, what a great full debut. You can't ask more from than a debutant than to score a goal.
Downing: I suppose I could've scored two like.
MON: Yes, well don't be hard on yourself.
Downing: Or it woulda been reet good if I coulda scored a hat trick it wor my second match and that.
Coach Driver: Like me!
*The coach driver removes his hat*
All the lads: Dion Dublin!?
Dublin: Yeah, what can I say I love Villa .... And driving coaches.
MON: Well it was a great performance Stuart, so you can take that with you.
*Downing begins sobbing*
Downing: It weren't even on tha telly or owt man.
MON: Look, I admire your professionalism but ....
*MON is interrupted by Delph bursting through the coach doors*
Delph: Boss, boss the papers are saying we're going to sign Jermaine Pennant!
MON: They're saying what!?
*MON cocks a shotgun and puts a hand on Dublin's shoulder*
MON: Lets ride!
Heskey: Get Up!
All the lads: Get on up!
Heskey: Get Up!
All the lads: Get on up!
Heskey: Get on the scene!
All the lads: Get on up!
Heskey: I'm a goal machine!
*Heskey does a dance (including a spin and "jumping into the splits") in the aisle of the coach*
All the lads: Yay! Go Heskey! Go Heskey....
MON: Lads, lads calm down. Great win out there tonight. Nice to see my boys Emile and Stilyan getting on the scoresheet.
*MON tussles Heskey and Petrovs hair*
Young: Stan's was an own goal boss.
MON: Well it's like they say "they all count" and Emile is growing into the 20 a season striker I knew he was, if we can just tap his potential in the coming years...
Young: Potential? He must be 40 boss!
MON: Look if Fergie's lads are "kids" at 22 then my young gun Emile still has plenty of time to come good.
*Emile nods, Young sighs*
MON: and Stuart, what a great full debut. You can't ask more from than a debutant than to score a goal.
Downing: I suppose I could've scored two like.
MON: Yes, well don't be hard on yourself.
Downing: Or it woulda been reet good if I coulda scored a hat trick it wor my second match and that.
Coach Driver: Like me!
*The coach driver removes his hat*
All the lads: Dion Dublin!?
Dublin: Yeah, what can I say I love Villa .... And driving coaches.
MON: Well it was a great performance Stuart, so you can take that with you.
*Downing begins sobbing*
Downing: It weren't even on tha telly or owt man.
MON: Look, I admire your professionalism but ....
*MON is interrupted by Delph bursting through the coach doors*
Delph: Boss, boss the papers are saying we're going to sign Jermaine Pennant!
MON: They're saying what!?
*MON cocks a shotgun and puts a hand on Dublin's shoulder*
MON: Lets ride!
Match 14: Post Spurs/ Carling Cup: Portsmouth
*The lads seem nonchalant after their draw with Spurs*
MON: So lads, to be honest I was happy not to lose.
*Gabby frowns, his bottom lip pouts*
Gabby: so we lost?
MON: No, Gabriel, we didn't lose I said....
Gabby: So we won? Yay!
*Gabby does a victory dance*
MON: No, no, we drew.
Gabby: I didn't draw anything boss, I was playing football, I scored a goal and everything.
MON: I know Gabriel I....
*Gabby is now drawing, he holds up his picture*
MON: What's that?
Gabby: That's a unicorn.
MON: ... and that?
Gabby: it's Father Christmas.
MON: and that?
Gabby: It's Emile, he's scoring a goal.
Young: You do know none of those are real Gabby right?
*a tear rolls down Gabby's cheek, he turns to MON*
Gabby: No unicorns boss?
MON: sadly no, Gabriel.
Gabby: No Father Chrismas?
MON: No.
Gabby: and Emile.
MON: He tries but .... I'm afraid not.
*Gabby sobs into his picture*
MON: Ashley why must you always ruin it for Gabriel?
*****Pre Pompey*****
MON: Right lads I know Spurs was a difficult match but Pompey have been losing hand over fist so we know what that means....
*Young raises his hand*
MON: Ashley?
Young: We should approach them overconfidently and lose convincingly throwing away our hope of ever progressing in cup competition?
MON: No, not this time.
*the lads collectively gasp*
MON: Yes, this time ..... I want you to win!
*The lads look at each other with confused faces*
Milner: What you want us to score and that?
MON: Yes, that's right James.
Heskey: Even me boss?
MON: Lets not go overboard Emile, one step at a time.
Cuellar: Indubitably Martin, as a matter of fact I do believe your approach to be the best in the further advancement of the club forthwith.
*the team all looks at Cuellar*
MON: Where did you ....
Cuellar: Learn english? Young Gabriel has been teaching me, have you not Gabriel?
*Gabby is interrupted from gnawing at his shin like a dog, Delph raises his hand*
MON: Fabian?
Delph: Boss ... What comes after a quarter-final?
MON: A semi Fabian.
*Young packs his webcam into his kit bag*
MON: Not that kind!
*Young, frowning removes his webcam*
MON: So lads, to be honest I was happy not to lose.
*Gabby frowns, his bottom lip pouts*
Gabby: so we lost?
MON: No, Gabriel, we didn't lose I said....
Gabby: So we won? Yay!
*Gabby does a victory dance*
MON: No, no, we drew.
Gabby: I didn't draw anything boss, I was playing football, I scored a goal and everything.
MON: I know Gabriel I....
*Gabby is now drawing, he holds up his picture*
MON: What's that?
Gabby: That's a unicorn.
MON: ... and that?
Gabby: it's Father Christmas.
MON: and that?
Gabby: It's Emile, he's scoring a goal.
Young: You do know none of those are real Gabby right?
*a tear rolls down Gabby's cheek, he turns to MON*
Gabby: No unicorns boss?
MON: sadly no, Gabriel.
Gabby: No Father Chrismas?
MON: No.
Gabby: and Emile.
MON: He tries but .... I'm afraid not.
*Gabby sobs into his picture*
MON: Ashley why must you always ruin it for Gabriel?
*****Pre Pompey*****
MON: Right lads I know Spurs was a difficult match but Pompey have been losing hand over fist so we know what that means....
*Young raises his hand*
MON: Ashley?
Young: We should approach them overconfidently and lose convincingly throwing away our hope of ever progressing in cup competition?
MON: No, not this time.
*the lads collectively gasp*
MON: Yes, this time ..... I want you to win!
*The lads look at each other with confused faces*
Milner: What you want us to score and that?
MON: Yes, that's right James.
Heskey: Even me boss?
MON: Lets not go overboard Emile, one step at a time.
Cuellar: Indubitably Martin, as a matter of fact I do believe your approach to be the best in the further advancement of the club forthwith.
*the team all looks at Cuellar*
MON: Where did you ....
Cuellar: Learn english? Young Gabriel has been teaching me, have you not Gabriel?
*Gabby is interrupted from gnawing at his shin like a dog, Delph raises his hand*
MON: Fabian?
Delph: Boss ... What comes after a quarter-final?
MON: A semi Fabian.
*Young packs his webcam into his kit bag*
MON: Not that kind!
*Young, frowning removes his webcam*
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