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?!