Match 37: Manchester City

*We join the lads preparing for their clash against Man City. MON is visibly confident*

MON: Chins up lads, we can win this one with ease, They're playing a keeper from the Faroe Islands, as far as I know all that lives there are sheep. They don't even have poseable thumbs! On top of that my scouts have reliably informed me that no-one outside of the british isles can even play football to a worthwhile level.

Delfouneso: What about Messi?

MON: Messy? What is this some of your 'jive', street lingo Nathan?

Delfouneso: What? No boss he's a ...

MON: I'll have none of your hippity hop nonsense in here young man. And...

A.Young: Actually boss the people of the Faroe Islands are considered under the Kindom of Denmark and...

MON: Denmark!? Pah! Who's ever won anything with a danish keeper?

Milner: Besides boss, they've made an emergency loan like.

MON: Emergency loan!? Even better!

*MON is ecstatic jumping on the spot. The lads are confused. MON addresses their confusion*

MON: Two words. Gabor. Kiraly.

*The lads all gasp with horror*

Gabby: I still have jogging trouser nightmares.

*Petrov has fallen to his knees the palms of his hands pressed firmly on his temples, eyes crushed closed*

Petrov: The sweat pants! .... The sweat pants!

MON: Yes! It'll cause uncertainty and no doubt terrible 'keeping. Who is the unlucky player?

Milner: Marton Fulop.

MON: Martin Fuller?

NRC: Fulop boss Fulop.

MON: Full of it am I Nigel!? See if you play again!?!

NRC: What!? ...I didn't..... I mean .. I said.

MON: Not the smart mouth now are you!? Anyway, enough of how we are going to easily defeat Man City. It's time for me to announce the squad.

*MON gestures to some closed claret and blue curtains aside a golden rope*

MON: Now I'm going to let the fringe players have a go as promised.

*The likes of Sidwell, Beye and Ciaran Clark look at each other wide-eyed with excitement*

MON: Robbo!

Robertson: Dah da-da-da-da daaaaaaah!

*MON pulls the golden rope to John Robertson's 'fanfare' the curtains open and the lads lean in to see the team*

Sidwell: Hey! This side is unchanged from the last two games.

MON: Oh but is it Steve?

Sidwell: Yes.

MON: ... Oh but is it!?

Sidwell: YES!

MON: OK ... It is.

Beye: But boss you said the fringe players would....

MON: That I did Habib my good man. First team, under your chairs you will find combs with which you can comb yourself forward a fringe.

*The first team do as such combing their hair forward as requested, Collins, Gabby and Friedel in particular look upset.*

MON: Not to worry lads, for you I have these.

*MON produces a number of wigs.*

MON: Here you go.

*MON hands Friedel a 'dreadlock' wig, Gabby the wig of a '60's news anchorman' and Collins a 'lustrous long curly blonde' wig, he hands thebox to the rest of the short haired players, Cuellar is still struggling to comb a fringe into his hair with Petrov helping*

Cuellar: I cannae do it cap'ain I doon't have the appropriate comb!

*Clark jumps to his feet with an expression of invention*

Clarke: Hey I have a fringe does that mean I can...

MON: Robbo!

*Robertson appears beside Clark deftly snipping off his fringe with barber's scissors.*

Clarke: My fringe!

Sidwell: This is nonsense! You said fringe players anyway not 'fringed'

MON: Yes, but that wouldn't have really worked for the joke would it.

*The first team laugh whilst the fringe players scowl. Brad Friedel produces a guitar and begins singing 'Buffalo Soldier' the lads all unite and sing along*