*We join the lads gearing up for their clash against Birmingham City*
MON: Now I know some of you love playing the derby, eh Gabriel?
*Gabby looks confused*
Gabby: I guess?
MON: You guess? You usually love it?
Gabby: I dunno, we've not played Derby for a while, did I score past them?
MON: No Gabriel, not Derby County, "The Derby" we're playing Birmingham City.
Gabby: Whooooo hoooooooo!!
*Gabby is running around the dressing room arms out like an aeroplane, an injured Delph has his head hung depressed*
MON: I'm sorry Fabian I know as a former European Cup winning player myself it's frustrating to be out with injury, I missed a European Cup final once, but then I came back, back to show them all with magnificent, spectacular displays that dazzled the....
Delph: Boss?
MON: Oh I'm sorry, am I going on about my European Cup winning days again?
Delph: Yeah .... A bit.
MON: When I won the European Cup twice.
Delph: Yeah! Anyway it's not just being injured .... I trained so hard to play in the derby.
*Delph recollects fighting muay thai battles in a hut in Thailand Slums, two foot tackling bears in Siberia and kicking meat carcasses hanging from hooks in abattoirs all whilst listening to encouraging 80's power ballads*
Delph: Push it to the limiiiiiiiii-eeeeeeeeet!!!!
MON: Fabian?
Fabian: Oh … Sorry boss, lost in thought a minute there.
*A fly lands on Delph's plastered foot he wiggles his toes in a vain attempt to kill it, it flys off unscathed, Delph frowns*
Collins: I'm really looking forward to the match boss, since I joined the Villa I hate anything blue..... Sorry Steve.
Sidwell: Sorry? Sorry for wha .... Oh my God!
*Sidwell catches sight of his blue motorbike in flames in the car park through the window*
Sidwell: My bike! My beautiful bike!
MON: That's the spirit!
*Sidwell darts out of the dressing room, MON calls after him*
MON: Be sure to be back five minutes before the end of the match!
*Two men appear in the doorway*
Man 1: Hey Villa losers!
Man 2: Losers!
*They chuckle*
MON: Who are you pair and what are you doing in my dressing room?
Man 2: It's me Liam Ridgewell.
*MON shrugs with no recollection*
Ridgewell: I played in defence?
*MON still looks non the wiser*
Ridgewell: I couldn't grow a moustache.
*MON shows a vague recollection.*
MON: Ah yes, Ian Ridgewell.
Ridgewell: Liam.
MON: Whatever, and you?
*Man 1 looks stunned*
Man 1: What? I only just left, it's me, Craig Gardner.
MON: Who? We don't need a gardener our groundskeeper won "groundskeeper's groundskeeper" and "groundskeeper of the year" this year.
Gardner: No not "a Gardener"....
MON: Make up your mind will you? It's your name, it's not that difficult!
*The dressing room erupts with laughter*
Gardner: We played for Villa, now we play for Birmingham City.
MON: Well it says "Home Team" above the door, can you not read? How many times must I get rid of you?
*The dressing room erupts with laughter again, Gardner steps forward and answers defiantly*
Gardner: I can read! ...
*Gardner puts a hand to the side of his mouth and leans toward Ridgewell*
Gardner: Reading's the one where you say stuff that's on stuff right?
Ridgewell: Yeah ... I think so....
*Gardner reverts to his "defiant" stance*
Gardner: Yeah!
*The lads all stare silently at the pair*
MON: What are you here for anyway?
Gardner: We have a message for you losers from the chairman.
MON: Which is?
Ridgewell: Can he borrow a few bob for the coach driver? He's a little short til the end of the month.
MON: Get out.
Gardner: He'll pay you back, he's good for it, honest.
MON: Out!
*Gabby breaks the awkward silence "flying" past*
Gabby: Wheeeeeeeeeeeee!
Saturday 24 April 2010
Match 35: Post Hull
*We join the lads leaving the pitch and heading to the Dressing Room, Richard Dunne is stopped for an interview*
SKY Sports Interview: Great match out there Richard a well earned ....
Dunne: If he dies, he dies!
*Dunne stares menacingly into the camera before heading to the Dressing Room, the lads are celebrating their win, MON arrives, he's furious*
MON: What were you thinking!? 2- nil!? 2!?.... Nil!?
*The lads look confused*
Milner: Are you ... mad like boss?
MON: Yes I'm mad "like", What did I tell you before you went out there?
Carew: To win?
MON: .....and....
*Gabby raises his hand he's pointing it in the air excitedly*
Gabby: Ooh ooh, I know! Pick me boss, me!
MON: Gabriel.
Gabby: To win 1-nil?
MON: Yes I said win 1-nil, none of this showing off nonsense, did you not hear Mick McCarthy? It's about points not goals. We're not the flippin' Harlem Globetrotters!
Cueller: Mmm, trotters ... The forbidden meat.
*The defensive warriors are tucking into hog and massive turkey legs*
A.Young: But it's good to have a healthy margin, I think the fans prefer that than biting their nails in the last ten minutes.
MON: The fans!? The fans!? I know what the fans want! Magic and rainbows and champions league. You don't get that winning 2-0 do you!?
A.Young: Well technically.....
*Warnock is crawling to the post-match defence warrior feast*
Warnock: Boss why didn't you sub me? The physio said he was going to have to amputate out there.
MON: Pah! Amputate shmamputate! I can't be seen to be making substitutions in the first half. How would I hit them with my surprise tactics later on?
A.Young: You mean bringing on Sidwell and Carew for Heskey in the last five or ten minutes.
MON: Exactly! They never see it coming. Rotation, rotation, rotation.
*The lads all roll their eyes*
SKY Sports Interview: Great match out there Richard a well earned ....
Dunne: If he dies, he dies!
*Dunne stares menacingly into the camera before heading to the Dressing Room, the lads are celebrating their win, MON arrives, he's furious*
MON: What were you thinking!? 2- nil!? 2!?.... Nil!?
*The lads look confused*
Milner: Are you ... mad like boss?
MON: Yes I'm mad "like", What did I tell you before you went out there?
Carew: To win?
MON: .....and....
*Gabby raises his hand he's pointing it in the air excitedly*
Gabby: Ooh ooh, I know! Pick me boss, me!
MON: Gabriel.
Gabby: To win 1-nil?
MON: Yes I said win 1-nil, none of this showing off nonsense, did you not hear Mick McCarthy? It's about points not goals. We're not the flippin' Harlem Globetrotters!
Cueller: Mmm, trotters ... The forbidden meat.
*The defensive warriors are tucking into hog and massive turkey legs*
A.Young: But it's good to have a healthy margin, I think the fans prefer that than biting their nails in the last ten minutes.
MON: The fans!? The fans!? I know what the fans want! Magic and rainbows and champions league. You don't get that winning 2-0 do you!?
A.Young: Well technically.....
*Warnock is crawling to the post-match defence warrior feast*
Warnock: Boss why didn't you sub me? The physio said he was going to have to amputate out there.
MON: Pah! Amputate shmamputate! I can't be seen to be making substitutions in the first half. How would I hit them with my surprise tactics later on?
A.Young: You mean bringing on Sidwell and Carew for Heskey in the last five or ten minutes.
MON: Exactly! They never see it coming. Rotation, rotation, rotation.
*The lads all roll their eyes*
Match 35: Hull City
*We join the lads preparing for their clash against Hull City*
MON: Right lads, I think we're ready to go to Hull.
Heskey: Noooooo! Oh sweet Lord what sins have we committed to deserve to go to the eternal pit of anguish and horror!?
MON: No, no Emile, I said HULL, as in Hull City.
Heskey: I know boss.
*The dressing room erupts with laughter*
MON: Now we'll have to be careful against the tigers, they're in the relegation fight and you know what they say about "an animal backed into a corner" ....
Gabby: That they're rubbish at football?
*The dressing room erupts with laughter*
Gabby: What?
MON: No Gabriel, they say....
Gabby: wait so animals backed into corners are good at football?
MON: No, no I'm saying that when backed into corners they come out fighting.
Gabby: I don't think they'll fight us boss, Jimmy Bullard's really nice, one time he came over and he said....
MON: Not literally fight us Gabriel.
Gabby: Oh you were speaking in metaphorical terms? Why didn't you just say that?
*The lads all stare at Gabby*
Gabby: What?
MON: Now Nathan....
Delfouneso: Oh My God, Oh My God, Oh My God!
MON: Nathan?
Delphouneso: I kicked it ... and .... It went in.
A.Young: Did you not see his face when he scored boss? .... He's still not recovered from the shock.
*A wide eyed Delfouneso stands robotically and mimics the goal he scored, then sits back down again. Then he repeats the process*
MON: O....K, Nathan you're starting. Lads put the ball on that.
*MON points to Delfouneso's boot as he swings it up slowly once more repeating his scoring action.*
A.Young: Really bad news about Fabian with the injury boss.
MON: Yes, terrible shame.
A.Young: Have you not invited him to come along as a spectator?
MON: No .... I think .... He's best just resting for now.
*MON envisions Delph crashing his wheelchair into Hull's players as they arrive using his plastered leg as a battering ram, he shakes his head and returns to focus.*
MON: OK everyone, let's get on the coach.
MON: Right lads, I think we're ready to go to Hull.
Heskey: Noooooo! Oh sweet Lord what sins have we committed to deserve to go to the eternal pit of anguish and horror!?
MON: No, no Emile, I said HULL, as in Hull City.
Heskey: I know boss.
*The dressing room erupts with laughter*
MON: Now we'll have to be careful against the tigers, they're in the relegation fight and you know what they say about "an animal backed into a corner" ....
Gabby: That they're rubbish at football?
*The dressing room erupts with laughter*
Gabby: What?
MON: No Gabriel, they say....
Gabby: wait so animals backed into corners are good at football?
MON: No, no I'm saying that when backed into corners they come out fighting.
Gabby: I don't think they'll fight us boss, Jimmy Bullard's really nice, one time he came over and he said....
MON: Not literally fight us Gabriel.
Gabby: Oh you were speaking in metaphorical terms? Why didn't you just say that?
*The lads all stare at Gabby*
Gabby: What?
MON: Now Nathan....
Delfouneso: Oh My God, Oh My God, Oh My God!
MON: Nathan?
Delphouneso: I kicked it ... and .... It went in.
A.Young: Did you not see his face when he scored boss? .... He's still not recovered from the shock.
*A wide eyed Delfouneso stands robotically and mimics the goal he scored, then sits back down again. Then he repeats the process*
MON: O....K, Nathan you're starting. Lads put the ball on that.
*MON points to Delfouneso's boot as he swings it up slowly once more repeating his scoring action.*
A.Young: Really bad news about Fabian with the injury boss.
MON: Yes, terrible shame.
A.Young: Have you not invited him to come along as a spectator?
MON: No .... I think .... He's best just resting for now.
*MON envisions Delph crashing his wheelchair into Hull's players as they arrive using his plastered leg as a battering ram, he shakes his head and returns to focus.*
MON: OK everyone, let's get on the coach.
Match 34: Post Portsmouth
*We join the lads celebrating their victory against Portsmouth MON enters*
MON: Alright settle down lads, we may have beat Pompey but lets face it, they were playing a pensioner upfront.
Robertson: Kanu.
MON: Then they drafted in Zorro.
Robertson: Tommy Smith.
MON: and they were playing a 10 year old left back.
NRC: Sowah?
MON: So what? So what!? You're on the thinnest ice Nigel, I'm lenient enough to grant you some bench time and you repay me with this insolence!?
NRC: No boss Sowah is the....
MON: So what!?!?!
*The lads are now restraining a furious MON*
A.Young: Calm down boss.
Heskey: There's no need for contretemps.
Delph: Get 'im boss! Don't stand for that!
*The lads all look at Delph, he lowers his grin and head then rubs his knee for sympathy*
MON: Right ..... Right, I'm OK.
*MON calms, he dusts down his tracksuit, the lads all unhand MON .... He then lurches for NRC again*
MON: I'll give you so what!!!
*The ruckus is interrupted by Delfouneso's arrival, he pushes open the door, everyone turns to see him with a girl on each arm in a white t-shirt, jeans and a leather jacket. he has two upturned thumbs outstretched, there is canned applause playing .... The lads are looking all around themselves to see where it's coming from*
Delphouneso: Eeeeeeeeeeeeh!
*the applause gets louder*
A.Young: Wow, they don't call him the Fonz for nothing.
Gabby: Yeah, it sure is a shortened version of his name.
MON: Ah here he is, the player I made with my own two hands. Once again I've showed how I'm all about "Plan B" and making substitutions to win matches.
*The lads raise their eyebrows.*
MON: What? What's this eyebrow raising about? Nigel you're eyebrows are the highest, explain yourself!
*NRC hadn't raised his eyebrows*
NRC: What? Their plucked.
MON: What the what?! Oh ... Foul and abusive language now is it!?
*MON grabs NRC in a headlock*
NRC (choking): Plucked! Plucked!
*The lads rush to NRC's aid*
MON: Alright settle down lads, we may have beat Pompey but lets face it, they were playing a pensioner upfront.
Robertson: Kanu.
MON: Then they drafted in Zorro.
Robertson: Tommy Smith.
MON: and they were playing a 10 year old left back.
NRC: Sowah?
MON: So what? So what!? You're on the thinnest ice Nigel, I'm lenient enough to grant you some bench time and you repay me with this insolence!?
NRC: No boss Sowah is the....
MON: So what!?!?!
*The lads are now restraining a furious MON*
A.Young: Calm down boss.
Heskey: There's no need for contretemps.
Delph: Get 'im boss! Don't stand for that!
*The lads all look at Delph, he lowers his grin and head then rubs his knee for sympathy*
MON: Right ..... Right, I'm OK.
*MON calms, he dusts down his tracksuit, the lads all unhand MON .... He then lurches for NRC again*
MON: I'll give you so what!!!
*The ruckus is interrupted by Delfouneso's arrival, he pushes open the door, everyone turns to see him with a girl on each arm in a white t-shirt, jeans and a leather jacket. he has two upturned thumbs outstretched, there is canned applause playing .... The lads are looking all around themselves to see where it's coming from*
Delphouneso: Eeeeeeeeeeeeh!
*the applause gets louder*
A.Young: Wow, they don't call him the Fonz for nothing.
Gabby: Yeah, it sure is a shortened version of his name.
MON: Ah here he is, the player I made with my own two hands. Once again I've showed how I'm all about "Plan B" and making substitutions to win matches.
*The lads raise their eyebrows.*
MON: What? What's this eyebrow raising about? Nigel you're eyebrows are the highest, explain yourself!
*NRC hadn't raised his eyebrows*
NRC: What? Their plucked.
MON: What the what?! Oh ... Foul and abusive language now is it!?
*MON grabs NRC in a headlock*
NRC (choking): Plucked! Plucked!
*The lads rush to NRC's aid*
Match 34: Portsmouth
*We join the lads midway through their preparation for their clash against Portsmouth*
MON:....So remember, they have nothing to lose so they'll be dangerous. Also if they ask you for money say no, these people have to help themselves...
*There is a knock at the door, it's Avram the Hutt, he licks his lips.*
MON: Ah Avram! How are you?
Grant: Good thanking you very much, you know how it is when you are just winning at Wembley.
*MON looks angrily at Grant*
Grant: Maybe not. Anyway ....
*Avram the Hutt pulls a chain, on the end of it tugged along is Belhadj dressed in a Princess Leia bikini*
Grant: Belhadj, you buy? Much cheap yes?
MON: Er ... No .... Thankyou.
Grant: You sure? We not pay him many week, he'll do ANYTHING!
*MON shudders*
Grant: Behold....
*Grant produces a £5 note from his pocket*
Grant: Dance Nadir dance
*Belhadj begins dancing exotically, most of the lads recoil in disgust.*
Carew: We 'll take him!
MON: We will not! John sit back down at once!
Grant: You buy anything?
MON: Well actually, people have been saying I've been slow to react in buying a first class goal scorer, how about your Jermaine Defoe.
A.Young: Boss Jermaine doesn't ....
MON: Quiet Ashley I'm bartering here.
*Grant looks puzzled for a moment then appears to have an idea, he grabs Piquionne by the shirt and thrusts him into the dressing room*
Grant: Yes, yes Jermaine Defoe, you like? You buy?
MON: Wow , he's certainly much taller than he looks on the pitch.
A.Young: Boss, that's not....
Grant: Your boss he said be quiet little man, say hello Jermaine.
Piquionne: Bonjour?
A.Young: he's not Defoe boss!
Grant: Nonsense! Jermaine, what is your name?
Piquionne: Je m 'appelle Jermaine Defour.
Grant: Defoe!
Piquionne: Oui, oui Defoe, Defoe!
MON: You see Ashley? Don't be so mistrusting we're not dealing with Harry Redknapp here, look at Avram's honest face.
*Young looks at Avram, his bulging, sagging eyes are twitching, his tongue is hanging out of his mouth and he his rubbing his sweaty palms together, Young turns back to MON sceptically*
MON: and besides it says "Defoe" on the back of his shirt, you can't argue with that.
A.Young: Yeah a shirt that's at least two sizes too small and at least two seasons old!
*Piquionne breaks down*
Piquionne: C 'est true! It is true, I cannot keep up this facade! I was promised your "top flight english football" and zis team zey say they cannot afford even the letters of my name for the back of my shirt! And zey say "do you no the cost of Qs?" Zey force me to wear ex-players shirts, shorts and underpants!
*Piquionne sobs into his hands, Heskey puts a comforting arm around him whilst giving Avram a nasty look*
Heskey: There, there.
Piquionne: Underpants!
*Piquionne continues wailing*
A.Young: Ha! What did I tell you!?
MON: Now Ashley don't be smug. Besides Portsmouth's money worries aren't down to Avram ....
Piquionne: Mr.Grant he is like the one you call Fagin from your "Oliver!" he makes all the players steal to eat and if we come home with nothing he beats us and threatens to loan us out to Grimsby!
*The lads all look at Grant who has raised his hands*
Grant: Fellas, fellas none of this is true.
*A Grimsby Town brochure falls out of Grant's pocket, it is in a condition that would suggest it has been used to beat players with*
Grant: I can explain that.
Piquionne: And look as we speak Nadir has stuffed his bikini with your hard earned money!
Carew: What I do with my money is my business!
*The lads all look disapprovingly at Carew*
Carew: What?!
MON:....So remember, they have nothing to lose so they'll be dangerous. Also if they ask you for money say no, these people have to help themselves...
*There is a knock at the door, it's Avram the Hutt, he licks his lips.*
MON: Ah Avram! How are you?
Grant: Good thanking you very much, you know how it is when you are just winning at Wembley.
*MON looks angrily at Grant*
Grant: Maybe not. Anyway ....
*Avram the Hutt pulls a chain, on the end of it tugged along is Belhadj dressed in a Princess Leia bikini*
Grant: Belhadj, you buy? Much cheap yes?
MON: Er ... No .... Thankyou.
Grant: You sure? We not pay him many week, he'll do ANYTHING!
*MON shudders*
Grant: Behold....
*Grant produces a £5 note from his pocket*
Grant: Dance Nadir dance
*Belhadj begins dancing exotically, most of the lads recoil in disgust.*
Carew: We 'll take him!
MON: We will not! John sit back down at once!
Grant: You buy anything?
MON: Well actually, people have been saying I've been slow to react in buying a first class goal scorer, how about your Jermaine Defoe.
A.Young: Boss Jermaine doesn't ....
MON: Quiet Ashley I'm bartering here.
*Grant looks puzzled for a moment then appears to have an idea, he grabs Piquionne by the shirt and thrusts him into the dressing room*
Grant: Yes, yes Jermaine Defoe, you like? You buy?
MON: Wow , he's certainly much taller than he looks on the pitch.
A.Young: Boss, that's not....
Grant: Your boss he said be quiet little man, say hello Jermaine.
Piquionne: Bonjour?
A.Young: he's not Defoe boss!
Grant: Nonsense! Jermaine, what is your name?
Piquionne: Je m 'appelle Jermaine Defour.
Grant: Defoe!
Piquionne: Oui, oui Defoe, Defoe!
MON: You see Ashley? Don't be so mistrusting we're not dealing with Harry Redknapp here, look at Avram's honest face.
*Young looks at Avram, his bulging, sagging eyes are twitching, his tongue is hanging out of his mouth and he his rubbing his sweaty palms together, Young turns back to MON sceptically*
MON: and besides it says "Defoe" on the back of his shirt, you can't argue with that.
A.Young: Yeah a shirt that's at least two sizes too small and at least two seasons old!
*Piquionne breaks down*
Piquionne: C 'est true! It is true, I cannot keep up this facade! I was promised your "top flight english football" and zis team zey say they cannot afford even the letters of my name for the back of my shirt! And zey say "do you no the cost of Qs?" Zey force me to wear ex-players shirts, shorts and underpants!
*Piquionne sobs into his hands, Heskey puts a comforting arm around him whilst giving Avram a nasty look*
Heskey: There, there.
Piquionne: Underpants!
*Piquionne continues wailing*
A.Young: Ha! What did I tell you!?
MON: Now Ashley don't be smug. Besides Portsmouth's money worries aren't down to Avram ....
Piquionne: Mr.Grant he is like the one you call Fagin from your "Oliver!" he makes all the players steal to eat and if we come home with nothing he beats us and threatens to loan us out to Grimsby!
*The lads all look at Grant who has raised his hands*
Grant: Fellas, fellas none of this is true.
*A Grimsby Town brochure falls out of Grant's pocket, it is in a condition that would suggest it has been used to beat players with*
Grant: I can explain that.
Piquionne: And look as we speak Nadir has stuffed his bikini with your hard earned money!
Carew: What I do with my money is my business!
*The lads all look disapprovingly at Carew*
Carew: What?!
Post F. A Cup Semi Final: Chelsea
*We join MON speaking in the dressing room dejected after the lads loss at Wembley*
MON: Well that went as planned, except for the loss of course, I mean we showed some good fight out there and conceded some late goals and sure the media will blame a tired squad but that is hogwash and we all know.....
*MON is interrupted by loud snoring, he pauses and scans the room to see the dressing room asleep*
Gabby: .... Pregnant!?......
Heskey: ..... By far the proudest of my achievements .... Few strikers get the World Cup Golden Boot....
Delph: ....Die! Die! Die!... Red card!? ... I didn't even touch him!.... Is it because I'm not John Terry!?....
Carew: .....Free dance night!?......
MON: LADS!
*The lads jumped startled, some of their Aston Villa sleeping caps fly off, Ashley Young raises his head from Carews shoulder and stretches.*
A.Young: What's up boss?
MON: The match lads, though we lost, good effort.
*MON strolls toward Heskey and tears off the "Respect" patch on his shirt sleeve, waving it it to the lads.*
Heskey: Hey!
MON: But this!? You can forget this!
Milner: Mad about tha' penalty and John Terry's attempted murder like boss?
MON: Yes James .... But something more ....
*MON flashes back to his approach to Howard Webb's dressing room post match to dispute his decisions*
............................
*MON knocks on the door, it's a little open already and what sounds like Karaoke is blaring out, MON gently edges the door open further*
MON: Listen Mr.Webb I....
*MON's jaw drops and he is stunned to silence, Howard Webb has his back to MON and is dancing in a long, blonde, curly wig, he is stripped to a vest and his shorts*
Webb: R.E.S.P.E.C.T! Found out what it means to me! ....
*Webb blows the rest of the tune on his ref's whistle, he has fists full of cash with a briefcase sat on the dresser which has "NOT Bribe Money" embossed on it ... Webb notices MON's presence*
Webb: Oh .... Err Martin .... It's not what it looks like.
MON: So you're not butchering an Aretha Franklin classic?
Webb: Well ... Yes ... I mean I've not been bribed. I can assure you that any decisions throughout the match were down to big four media bias and were not in anyway financially endorsed.
MON: You're reading a statement ... A statement I just saw you pull from the briefcase you have clearly received from Roman Ambromavic.
Webb: What!? Nonsense.
*MON raises the tag on the brief case*
MON: Then what's this?
*The tag is a picture of Roman Ambromavic with a large grin and two thumbs up*
Webb: Well that could be any Russian oligarch!
*MON sighs and strolls back to the Villa dressing room*
............................
MON: Well lads, nevermind, worse things have happened, we all survived.
*Milner is rubbing his leg, a tear rolls down his cheek*
Milner: Sometimes like, I wish I never.
MON: Don't you worry James, we'll have our revenge, first we get as many of you as we can in the England team .... Then ....
MON: Well that went as planned, except for the loss of course, I mean we showed some good fight out there and conceded some late goals and sure the media will blame a tired squad but that is hogwash and we all know.....
*MON is interrupted by loud snoring, he pauses and scans the room to see the dressing room asleep*
Gabby: .... Pregnant!?......
Heskey: ..... By far the proudest of my achievements .... Few strikers get the World Cup Golden Boot....
Delph: ....Die! Die! Die!... Red card!? ... I didn't even touch him!.... Is it because I'm not John Terry!?....
Carew: .....Free dance night!?......
MON: LADS!
*The lads jumped startled, some of their Aston Villa sleeping caps fly off, Ashley Young raises his head from Carews shoulder and stretches.*
A.Young: What's up boss?
MON: The match lads, though we lost, good effort.
*MON strolls toward Heskey and tears off the "Respect" patch on his shirt sleeve, waving it it to the lads.*
Heskey: Hey!
MON: But this!? You can forget this!
Milner: Mad about tha' penalty and John Terry's attempted murder like boss?
MON: Yes James .... But something more ....
*MON flashes back to his approach to Howard Webb's dressing room post match to dispute his decisions*
............................
*MON knocks on the door, it's a little open already and what sounds like Karaoke is blaring out, MON gently edges the door open further*
MON: Listen Mr.Webb I....
*MON's jaw drops and he is stunned to silence, Howard Webb has his back to MON and is dancing in a long, blonde, curly wig, he is stripped to a vest and his shorts*
Webb: R.E.S.P.E.C.T! Found out what it means to me! ....
*Webb blows the rest of the tune on his ref's whistle, he has fists full of cash with a briefcase sat on the dresser which has "NOT Bribe Money" embossed on it ... Webb notices MON's presence*
Webb: Oh .... Err Martin .... It's not what it looks like.
MON: So you're not butchering an Aretha Franklin classic?
Webb: Well ... Yes ... I mean I've not been bribed. I can assure you that any decisions throughout the match were down to big four media bias and were not in anyway financially endorsed.
MON: You're reading a statement ... A statement I just saw you pull from the briefcase you have clearly received from Roman Ambromavic.
Webb: What!? Nonsense.
*MON raises the tag on the brief case*
MON: Then what's this?
*The tag is a picture of Roman Ambromavic with a large grin and two thumbs up*
Webb: Well that could be any Russian oligarch!
*MON sighs and strolls back to the Villa dressing room*
............................
MON: Well lads, nevermind, worse things have happened, we all survived.
*Milner is rubbing his leg, a tear rolls down his cheek*
Milner: Sometimes like, I wish I never.
MON: Don't you worry James, we'll have our revenge, first we get as many of you as we can in the England team .... Then ....
F. A Cup Semi-Final: Chelsea
*We join the lads gearing up for their semi-final clash against Chelsea*
MON: Ah I love a semi.
*The dressing room erupts with laughter.*
MON: Alright settle down you filthy lot.
Collins: Oh My God! What're we going to do!? We can't do anything against the Chelsea machine! We're doomed!
*Collins grabs MON by both sides of his tracksuit jacket and screams hysterically in his face*
Collins: Doomed!!!
*Petrov adjusts the captain's armband and slaps Collins about the face*
Petrov: Get a hold of yourself! They are but men!
*Collins ashamedlely lowers his head*
Collins: I'm sorry captain ... I shall issue an apology via Twitter at once.
Petrov: I don't use Twitter, it's weird.
*a grinning Delph slaps Collins*
Delph: Get a hold of yourself!
Collins: Ow! I already had a hold of myself!
Delph: Yeah ... Right ... Sorry.
*MON has a knowing glint in his eye and a wry smile*
Dunne: What's with tha knowin' glint in yer eye dere bass?
Cuellar: Och an ye wee, wry smile?
MON: Easter lads, Frank Lampard will no doubt have stuffed himself to a stupour, look at him.
*MON hits a notice board with his pointer there is a picture of Frank Lampard in action with a "+" sign, then a picture of a foil wrapped easter egg, then an "=" sign then a picture MON jumping for joy*
MON: He has the look of a man partial to a chocolate egg or two does he not? This will exponentially slow him down. Pah! John Terry dared question our discipline and it will be theirs which will be their undoing!
*The lads slowly hide the eggs they have been scoffing throughout the team talk, Ashley Young is sliding an egg underneath his chair with his foot*
A.Young: Great plan boss.
*Cuellar is dusting Cadbury's Flake from his beard*
Cuellar: Aye, brillian'.
*NRC enters, he's beaming and casually eating an easter egg*
NRC: Hey guys great news, the physio says I'm fit to play and .... Why's everyone looking at me like that?
MON: You always have to defy me don't you Nigel?
NRC: Defy you? What ... You want some easter egg?
*The room falls silent and uncomfortable as MON seeths with rage, NRC puts one cupped hand to his mouth and addresses the lads*
NRC (whispering): Is he diabetic?
*Delph breaks the silence slapping Collins*
Delph: Get a hold of yourself!
Collins: I said I'm fine!
MON: Ah I love a semi.
*The dressing room erupts with laughter.*
MON: Alright settle down you filthy lot.
Collins: Oh My God! What're we going to do!? We can't do anything against the Chelsea machine! We're doomed!
*Collins grabs MON by both sides of his tracksuit jacket and screams hysterically in his face*
Collins: Doomed!!!
*Petrov adjusts the captain's armband and slaps Collins about the face*
Petrov: Get a hold of yourself! They are but men!
*Collins ashamedlely lowers his head*
Collins: I'm sorry captain ... I shall issue an apology via Twitter at once.
Petrov: I don't use Twitter, it's weird.
*a grinning Delph slaps Collins*
Delph: Get a hold of yourself!
Collins: Ow! I already had a hold of myself!
Delph: Yeah ... Right ... Sorry.
*MON has a knowing glint in his eye and a wry smile*
Dunne: What's with tha knowin' glint in yer eye dere bass?
Cuellar: Och an ye wee, wry smile?
MON: Easter lads, Frank Lampard will no doubt have stuffed himself to a stupour, look at him.
*MON hits a notice board with his pointer there is a picture of Frank Lampard in action with a "+" sign, then a picture of a foil wrapped easter egg, then an "=" sign then a picture MON jumping for joy*
MON: He has the look of a man partial to a chocolate egg or two does he not? This will exponentially slow him down. Pah! John Terry dared question our discipline and it will be theirs which will be their undoing!
*The lads slowly hide the eggs they have been scoffing throughout the team talk, Ashley Young is sliding an egg underneath his chair with his foot*
A.Young: Great plan boss.
*Cuellar is dusting Cadbury's Flake from his beard*
Cuellar: Aye, brillian'.
*NRC enters, he's beaming and casually eating an easter egg*
NRC: Hey guys great news, the physio says I'm fit to play and .... Why's everyone looking at me like that?
MON: You always have to defy me don't you Nigel?
NRC: Defy you? What ... You want some easter egg?
*The room falls silent and uncomfortable as MON seeths with rage, NRC puts one cupped hand to his mouth and addresses the lads*
NRC (whispering): Is he diabetic?
*Delph breaks the silence slapping Collins*
Delph: Get a hold of yourself!
Collins: I said I'm fine!
Monday 5 April 2010
Match 32: Post Bolton
*We join the lads celebrating their victory over Bolton*
Downing: ..an' I said, Zat I dinnae care if ya 18ft man, I'll put me foot in ya face ya great streak of...
*MON enters, the lads all quieten down and take their seats*
MON: I trust we've all calmed down after that little fracas.
*Delph is pouting with his arms folded, he kicks the chair in front of him.*
Heskey: Hey! You chipped the paint on my 'No Goal' chair!
MON: Fabian, I know you're upset at being subbed but I'm rotating, I need to test the whole team.
Delph: It's not that boss, I missed the fight at the end, why couldn't we have a dust up at the beginning or half way through or ....
*Delph is interrupted by Collins' shouting*
Collins: Ow, Ow, Ow! Look just quit it will you? the match is over!
*Kevin Davies stops hitting the back of Collins' head with his elbow*
K.Davies: What? I thought you 'relished the physical challenge'.
Collins: Well I don't 'relish the physical challenge' that's just some cliche commentaters spew for big defenders, I'm a man of culture, I like fine music, the arts.
K.Davies: What like martial arts? Hiiiii Yaaaaaah!
*Kevin Davies karate chops Collins on the shoulder.*
Collins: Ow! No!....... That's it!
*Collins Presses Davies above his head*
K.Davies: Hey! Put me down! I'm not fouling, I mean, I'm english I was just 'putting myself about a bit'
*Collins launches him out of the dressing room, Davies stands, pleads to an invisible referree then makes his way to the Bolton dressing room elbowing every passer-by on the way*
MON: Ah, it's just like they say, a win after such a heavy defeat shows the resiliance and fortitude of a manager.
A.Young: You mean of a team boss?
MON: Now now Ashley, there's no 'I' in team and afterall 'I' masterminded this victory. Me having the foresight to play you, that's what won us this match.
A.Young: You always play me!
MON: You see, excellent management, James great match out there today, consistent as always.
Collins: Thanks boss.
MON: Not you...James Milner.
*MON points*
NRC: I'm Nigel .... and Milner didn't play .... and neither did I.
MON: And you won't again with that attitude!
Downing: ..an' I said, Zat I dinnae care if ya 18ft man, I'll put me foot in ya face ya great streak of...
*MON enters, the lads all quieten down and take their seats*
MON: I trust we've all calmed down after that little fracas.
*Delph is pouting with his arms folded, he kicks the chair in front of him.*
Heskey: Hey! You chipped the paint on my 'No Goal' chair!
MON: Fabian, I know you're upset at being subbed but I'm rotating, I need to test the whole team.
Delph: It's not that boss, I missed the fight at the end, why couldn't we have a dust up at the beginning or half way through or ....
*Delph is interrupted by Collins' shouting*
Collins: Ow, Ow, Ow! Look just quit it will you? the match is over!
*Kevin Davies stops hitting the back of Collins' head with his elbow*
K.Davies: What? I thought you 'relished the physical challenge'.
Collins: Well I don't 'relish the physical challenge' that's just some cliche commentaters spew for big defenders, I'm a man of culture, I like fine music, the arts.
K.Davies: What like martial arts? Hiiiii Yaaaaaah!
*Kevin Davies karate chops Collins on the shoulder.*
Collins: Ow! No!....... That's it!
*Collins Presses Davies above his head*
K.Davies: Hey! Put me down! I'm not fouling, I mean, I'm english I was just 'putting myself about a bit'
*Collins launches him out of the dressing room, Davies stands, pleads to an invisible referree then makes his way to the Bolton dressing room elbowing every passer-by on the way*
MON: Ah, it's just like they say, a win after such a heavy defeat shows the resiliance and fortitude of a manager.
A.Young: You mean of a team boss?
MON: Now now Ashley, there's no 'I' in team and afterall 'I' masterminded this victory. Me having the foresight to play you, that's what won us this match.
A.Young: You always play me!
MON: You see, excellent management, James great match out there today, consistent as always.
Collins: Thanks boss.
MON: Not you...James Milner.
*MON points*
NRC: I'm Nigel .... and Milner didn't play .... and neither did I.
MON: And you won't again with that attitude!
Friday 2 April 2010
Match 32: Bolton Wanderers
*We join the lads preparing for their clash against Bolton, MON is nowhere to be seen the lads are whispering amoungst themselves*
A.Young: Maybe the rumours were true.
*The doors are kicked open and MON appears, his lips are moving but the lads can't hear what he's saying*
Heskey: We can't hear you boss!
*MON removes his astronaut helmet*
A.Young: He sure knows how to make himself unavailable for comment.
MON: Oh Sorry lads, listen last week we were killed .... Literally buried.
*The lads solemnly nod*
MON: But I am rolling away the stone and coming back! This week I'll show all the doubting Thomases!
Heskey: Boss .... Are you comparing yourself to Jesus?
MON: Jesus? Did Jesus win the European Cup!?
*A.Young turns to his laptop*
A.Young: According to Wikipedia he's won it four times .... Twice with an Apostle select 11, twice with Jerusalem FC.
MON: Well, you can't argue with Wikipedia.... Anyway we'll show them it's not how hard you go down it's how quick you get up! Have you seen what the old boys have been saying about you!? Gabby, Zat Knight said your only as ugly as you are stupid.
Gabby: Ah, that's nice of him.
MON: No, it was an insult!
Gabby: The fiend! I'll show him!
MON: Ashley, Gary Cahill said he has more chance of getting in the England squad than you.
A.Young: Well technically....
MON: even if he had his legs eaten by sharks!
A.Young: Sharks!? I hate sharks, Why I'll show him!
MON: And John ... Jlloyd Samuel said ... Well they didn't interview him ... Why would they? But if they did he would've said that you perhaps have more interest in rubbing shoulders with glamour girls than playing for Villa!
*Carew is on the phone*
Carew: How many girls? The Daily Star you say? At what time .... Hmm I'll probably have to be subbed to make that..... I'm there.
*Carew puts his hand over the mouthpiece*
Carew: How dare he!? The very idea! I'll show him!
A.Young: Maybe the rumours were true.
*The doors are kicked open and MON appears, his lips are moving but the lads can't hear what he's saying*
Heskey: We can't hear you boss!
*MON removes his astronaut helmet*
A.Young: He sure knows how to make himself unavailable for comment.
MON: Oh Sorry lads, listen last week we were killed .... Literally buried.
*The lads solemnly nod*
MON: But I am rolling away the stone and coming back! This week I'll show all the doubting Thomases!
Heskey: Boss .... Are you comparing yourself to Jesus?
MON: Jesus? Did Jesus win the European Cup!?
*A.Young turns to his laptop*
A.Young: According to Wikipedia he's won it four times .... Twice with an Apostle select 11, twice with Jerusalem FC.
MON: Well, you can't argue with Wikipedia.... Anyway we'll show them it's not how hard you go down it's how quick you get up! Have you seen what the old boys have been saying about you!? Gabby, Zat Knight said your only as ugly as you are stupid.
Gabby: Ah, that's nice of him.
MON: No, it was an insult!
Gabby: The fiend! I'll show him!
MON: Ashley, Gary Cahill said he has more chance of getting in the England squad than you.
A.Young: Well technically....
MON: even if he had his legs eaten by sharks!
A.Young: Sharks!? I hate sharks, Why I'll show him!
MON: And John ... Jlloyd Samuel said ... Well they didn't interview him ... Why would they? But if they did he would've said that you perhaps have more interest in rubbing shoulders with glamour girls than playing for Villa!
*Carew is on the phone*
Carew: How many girls? The Daily Star you say? At what time .... Hmm I'll probably have to be subbed to make that..... I'm there.
*Carew puts his hand over the mouthpiece*
Carew: How dare he!? The very idea! I'll show him!
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