*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*
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