*We join the lads preparing for their World Cup clash against Germany*
Pearce: Hi lads, Fabio's going to sit this one out. As it's England v Germany he's going to see who's winning then side with them.
*The lads look at each other worriedly*
Pearce: But not to worry, I've got a special treat in store. A man who knows all about playing Germany at the World Cup, a good friend of mine .... John Barnes!! John Barnes everybody!
*Barnes enters to applause from the players, he's wearing his Italia '90 England shirt, it no longer fits*
Barnes: Thankyou, thankyou.
Heskey: Wow John Barnes, your my hero ... I modeled my career on yours.
Barnes: But ..... Iusedtoscoregoals.
*Some of the players laugh, others just look confused*
Pearce: erm ... John you're going to have to slow it down a little.
Barnes: Oh ... OK.
Heskey: I thought you didn't play against Germany in Italia 90, weren't you injured against Belgium?
Barnes: Sssshhh I need the money. I'm between jobs. Anyway, thinking about this match and all of you I wrote down a few words of encouragement.
*Barnes unfolds a piece of paper, the players lean in intently.*
Barnes: Gareth, you're our holding midfielder right?
Barry: Yeah?
Barnes: OK, note this down.
*Barry takes up a notepad and pen*
Barnes: You've got to hold and give, but do it at the right time.
*Barry nods, Pearce raises an eyebrow*
Barry: .... Right .... Time. Got it.
Barnes: James, Stevie .... You can be slow or fast, but you must get to the line.
Milner: Mix up the pace, right.
Gerrard: By-line crosses, gotcha.
Barnes: They'll always hit you and hurt you.
Heskey: Amen to that!
Barnes: Glen, Defend and attack.
Johnson: Defend? Why didn't I think of that! Thanks John.
Barnes: Wayne, Jermaine there's only one way to beat them, get 'round the back.
Rooney: That's it! That's what my game's been missing! I knew I'd forgot something.
Barnes: Now catch me if...
Pearce: Let me just stop you there John. You're just reciting your rap from "World in Motion"!
Barnes: Yeah... Well...
Pearce: We need the benefit of your experience not 90s song lyrics! I could've just sang Livin' on a flippin' Prayer!
Barnes: You don't know the words to Livin' on a Prayer Stuart, you just know the first 7 words! And it was released in '86, so technically...
Pearce: What!? No I don't "Tommy used to work on the docks ...."
*Pearce tails off mumbling*
Pearce: .... Well that's besides the point! Give these players some words from the heart!
Barnes: OK ... OK. Listen up lads. After 90 minutes of sheer hell, you're gonna get thirsty....
Pearce: Get out.
Barnes: Am I still gonna get my cheque? I'm struggling to make ends meet here...
Pearce: Out!
Saturday, 26 June 2010
*World Cup* - Post Slovenia
*We join the lads celebrating their 1-0 victory over Slovenia and progressing into the final 16, Defoe enters*
All the lads: Whoooo!!! Yeah!!! Jermaine!!! What a finish!
Defoe: It's what I'm all about guys.
*Heskey is sat with his arms folded and frowning*
Heskey: I would've put that away.
*The dressing room erupts with laughter*
Heskey: What? I would have!
*The dressing room erupts with laughter again*
Heskey: I can score goals!
*The dressing room erupts with laughter once more*
Heskey: I can! I just prefer to make the other players on my team shine.
Gerrard: Whatever Emile, everyone knows you couldn't hit a cow's backside with a banjo.
Heskey: How many times do I have to tell everyone, it was the quickest cow in the field and my hands were wet, I didn't have a proper grip on the ....
*Terry enters*
All the lads: John!! What a lion!
Terry: Thanks guys.
Pearce: You were great John, slide tackling with your head? Inspired. I have to say you were playing out there like your life depended on it.
*Terry casts a fearful glance over to Capello who is making a slow "cut throat" gesture at him.*
Terry: Yeah .... English pride and all that....
*The lads follow Terry's gaze to Capello who has quickly changed his face to an uncomfortable, wide, teeth-baring smile*
Pearce: Brilliant stuff eh Mr.Capello? Any words for the lads?
Capello: ATTACK, ATTACCO!!! PUSH UP!!!! PRONTO!!! PRONTO!!!!!
*Capello is gesturing wildly*
Pearce: ....Erm.... Boss the match is finished.
Capello: MAN ON!!!!! MOVE, MOVE, MOSSA, VELOCE!!!
*Capello is making a pushing motion with both hands*
Pearce: .... Um ... Yeah ... He said "Great work guys".
Capello: ATTACCO!!!
All the lads: Whoooo!!! Yeah!!! Jermaine!!! What a finish!
Defoe: It's what I'm all about guys.
*Heskey is sat with his arms folded and frowning*
Heskey: I would've put that away.
*The dressing room erupts with laughter*
Heskey: What? I would have!
*The dressing room erupts with laughter again*
Heskey: I can score goals!
*The dressing room erupts with laughter once more*
Heskey: I can! I just prefer to make the other players on my team shine.
Gerrard: Whatever Emile, everyone knows you couldn't hit a cow's backside with a banjo.
Heskey: How many times do I have to tell everyone, it was the quickest cow in the field and my hands were wet, I didn't have a proper grip on the ....
*Terry enters*
All the lads: John!! What a lion!
Terry: Thanks guys.
Pearce: You were great John, slide tackling with your head? Inspired. I have to say you were playing out there like your life depended on it.
*Terry casts a fearful glance over to Capello who is making a slow "cut throat" gesture at him.*
Terry: Yeah .... English pride and all that....
*The lads follow Terry's gaze to Capello who has quickly changed his face to an uncomfortable, wide, teeth-baring smile*
Pearce: Brilliant stuff eh Mr.Capello? Any words for the lads?
Capello: ATTACK, ATTACCO!!! PUSH UP!!!! PRONTO!!! PRONTO!!!!!
*Capello is gesturing wildly*
Pearce: ....Erm.... Boss the match is finished.
Capello: MAN ON!!!!! MOVE, MOVE, MOSSA, VELOCE!!!
*Capello is making a pushing motion with both hands*
Pearce: .... Um ... Yeah ... He said "Great work guys".
Capello: ATTACCO!!!
*World Cup* - Pre Slovenia
*We join the team gearing up for their match against Slovenia, Rooney and Gerrard are hiding behind their chairs*
Pearce: Steve, Wayne what're you doing!? We've got a big match coming up!
Rooney: Stevie says they're vampires boss!
*Gerrard nods*
Pearce: Vamp.... That's Transylvania.
Rooney: Oh.
*Rooney and Gerrard hesitantly take their seats like everyone else*
Gerrard: So are Transylvania in the World Cup?
Pearce: Of course not, how could they possibly play a match in the daytime?
*The players look at each other with reassured nods*
Pearce: Anyway.... We all know the negatives of the last match by now. You were rubbish. We have to focus on the positives.
Heskey: What are they boss?
Pearce: Jamie's suspended.
Carragher: Eh? Eh, Eh.
Pearce: Translation?
Heskey: He said he takes offence boss and is clearly the superior, defensively aware and altogether best centre back in the squad.
*the dressing room erupts with laughter*
Pearce (wiping a tear from his eye): Ah, the scouse wit.
Caragher: Eh! Eh!
Heskey: Two words. Michael Dawson.
*The laughter falls silent and the England players pull worried faces.*
Dawson: Hey!
Pearce: Enough of this anyway. All I know of Slovenia is that they drew with USA which means they're awful.
*The lads look around at each other.*
Pearce: and also .... Has anyone seen Joe Cole?
*Joe Cole slides down outside the window, squeegee and bucket in hand*
J.Cole: Clean windows for a hundred grand?!
Pearce: A hund ... Joe just get in here!
J.Cole: but I have to make a livin'!
*Terry enters, he is limping and covered in bruises and swelling.*
Lampard: Jesus ... John what happened, I thought you were going for showdown talks with the boss....
Terry: Yeah .... I ... er .... fell on the stairs at the hotel.
Lampard: Stairs, what stairs? We're in a bungalow apartment.
Terry: Yeah, sorry I mean I walked into one of our doors.
Lampard: But it's open plan.
Terry: I was in a car accident.
Lampard: But the boss doesn't let us ride in cars, he said they're for "show offs and prima donnas with no legs and ...."
Terry: Look, just leave it out will you.
*Capello enters in fedora and pinstripe suit, he's cracking his knuckles*
Capello: Youse not still talkin' with that big talkin' mouth o' yours are you Terry?
*Terry bows his head and cowers into the corner*
Terry: No boss, I mean sir ... Sir boss.
Capello: Mr.Terry and I, we have had a how you say "clear the air" discussion. We have decided that everything will be controlled by me and you will all shut your mouths and do as your told. Isn't that right John?
Terry: Yes boss .... Sir ... Mr.Capello boss sir.
*There is a knock at the door, it's Slovenia's head coach Matjaž Kek he's wearing full Dracula get up*
Kek: Good ev-en-ing, I vanted to say may the best men vin! Muhuhuhahahahahah!
*The lads look at each other with concern and Kek throws his cape around his mouth and runs off ....... before returning a few moments later with a confused expression in the doorway*
Kek: Could anyvone kindly direct me to the Slovenia dressing room?
Pearce: Steve, Wayne what're you doing!? We've got a big match coming up!
Rooney: Stevie says they're vampires boss!
*Gerrard nods*
Pearce: Vamp.... That's Transylvania.
Rooney: Oh.
*Rooney and Gerrard hesitantly take their seats like everyone else*
Gerrard: So are Transylvania in the World Cup?
Pearce: Of course not, how could they possibly play a match in the daytime?
*The players look at each other with reassured nods*
Pearce: Anyway.... We all know the negatives of the last match by now. You were rubbish. We have to focus on the positives.
Heskey: What are they boss?
Pearce: Jamie's suspended.
Carragher: Eh? Eh, Eh.
Pearce: Translation?
Heskey: He said he takes offence boss and is clearly the superior, defensively aware and altogether best centre back in the squad.
*the dressing room erupts with laughter*
Pearce (wiping a tear from his eye): Ah, the scouse wit.
Caragher: Eh! Eh!
Heskey: Two words. Michael Dawson.
*The laughter falls silent and the England players pull worried faces.*
Dawson: Hey!
Pearce: Enough of this anyway. All I know of Slovenia is that they drew with USA which means they're awful.
*The lads look around at each other.*
Pearce: and also .... Has anyone seen Joe Cole?
*Joe Cole slides down outside the window, squeegee and bucket in hand*
J.Cole: Clean windows for a hundred grand?!
Pearce: A hund ... Joe just get in here!
J.Cole: but I have to make a livin'!
*Terry enters, he is limping and covered in bruises and swelling.*
Lampard: Jesus ... John what happened, I thought you were going for showdown talks with the boss....
Terry: Yeah .... I ... er .... fell on the stairs at the hotel.
Lampard: Stairs, what stairs? We're in a bungalow apartment.
Terry: Yeah, sorry I mean I walked into one of our doors.
Lampard: But it's open plan.
Terry: I was in a car accident.
Lampard: But the boss doesn't let us ride in cars, he said they're for "show offs and prima donnas with no legs and ...."
Terry: Look, just leave it out will you.
*Capello enters in fedora and pinstripe suit, he's cracking his knuckles*
Capello: Youse not still talkin' with that big talkin' mouth o' yours are you Terry?
*Terry bows his head and cowers into the corner*
Terry: No boss, I mean sir ... Sir boss.
Capello: Mr.Terry and I, we have had a how you say "clear the air" discussion. We have decided that everything will be controlled by me and you will all shut your mouths and do as your told. Isn't that right John?
Terry: Yes boss .... Sir ... Mr.Capello boss sir.
*There is a knock at the door, it's Slovenia's head coach Matjaž Kek he's wearing full Dracula get up*
Kek: Good ev-en-ing, I vanted to say may the best men vin! Muhuhuhahahahahah!
*The lads look at each other with concern and Kek throws his cape around his mouth and runs off ....... before returning a few moments later with a confused expression in the doorway*
Kek: Could anyvone kindly direct me to the Slovenia dressing room?
*World Cup* - Post Algeria
*we join the lads with their heads hung after their disappointing goaless draw with Algeria, except for Rooney and Heskey who are sporting tired but wide grins. Capello enters*
Heskey & Rooney: Happy birthday Mr.Capello!!
*They step forward with an obviously homemade, eyesore of a cake*
Capello: Happy bir......!?!
*Capello launches the cake at the wall, it splats and slides halfway down*
Rooney: We spent all night baking that!? We were shattered ....
*Capello springs into a long-lasting, yelling rant. Lampard leans and whispers to Gerrard*
Lampard: I think he's run out of Italian swear words, he's on to just brand names now.
Capello: Peroni!? Bontempi!? Maserati!? Kappa!? ..... Intruder!!!
Gerrard: What's "intruder" make?
*Capello is pointing, visibly shaken*
Capello: No, no intruder, call the security!
*The players all turn to the trespasser, stunned*
Dawson: Who ... Me? It's me, Michael Dawson. Y'know "Daws"
All the Lads: Security! Security!
Dawson: C'mon, Aaron, Ledley Help me out!
*Lennon continues running aimlessly around the dressing room as he has since arriving in South Africa, King shrugs and continues sifting through his suitcase trying to find his favourite detachable leg. Security arrive*
Head Security Guard: You have a problem ... Oh I see, this man with no discernable footballing talent, he has intruded?
*The guard is sneering at Dawson*
Dawson: What!? I'm Michael Dawson.
Head Security Guard: I know who you are. Take him away.
*Dawson is bundled out by security, the lads cheer. Capello's anger returns.*
Capello: Now players what was it I say we need to win these matches!?
*The players look down at the ground in silence like embarrassed school children*
Rooney: ..... Cake?
*Capello puts his face into his hand and mutters under his breath then returns composed*
Capello: Cake!? ......Mio Dio .... Goal! I say "GOAL"!
*Half of the lads in the dressing room peel away in celebration. Crouch is doing the robot, Gerrard has slid on his knees, Rooney has cartwheeled, Heskey is stood with a confused look on his face whilst scratching his head*
Capello: Fiat!
Heskey & Rooney: Happy birthday Mr.Capello!!
*They step forward with an obviously homemade, eyesore of a cake*
Capello: Happy bir......!?!
*Capello launches the cake at the wall, it splats and slides halfway down*
Rooney: We spent all night baking that!? We were shattered ....
*Capello springs into a long-lasting, yelling rant. Lampard leans and whispers to Gerrard*
Lampard: I think he's run out of Italian swear words, he's on to just brand names now.
Capello: Peroni!? Bontempi!? Maserati!? Kappa!? ..... Intruder!!!
Gerrard: What's "intruder" make?
*Capello is pointing, visibly shaken*
Capello: No, no intruder, call the security!
*The players all turn to the trespasser, stunned*
Dawson: Who ... Me? It's me, Michael Dawson. Y'know "Daws"
All the Lads: Security! Security!
Dawson: C'mon, Aaron, Ledley Help me out!
*Lennon continues running aimlessly around the dressing room as he has since arriving in South Africa, King shrugs and continues sifting through his suitcase trying to find his favourite detachable leg. Security arrive*
Head Security Guard: You have a problem ... Oh I see, this man with no discernable footballing talent, he has intruded?
*The guard is sneering at Dawson*
Dawson: What!? I'm Michael Dawson.
Head Security Guard: I know who you are. Take him away.
*Dawson is bundled out by security, the lads cheer. Capello's anger returns.*
Capello: Now players what was it I say we need to win these matches!?
*The players look down at the ground in silence like embarrassed school children*
Rooney: ..... Cake?
*Capello puts his face into his hand and mutters under his breath then returns composed*
Capello: Cake!? ......Mio Dio .... Goal! I say "GOAL"!
*Half of the lads in the dressing room peel away in celebration. Crouch is doing the robot, Gerrard has slid on his knees, Rooney has cartwheeled, Heskey is stood with a confused look on his face whilst scratching his head*
Capello: Fiat!
*World Cup* - Pre Algeria
*We join the lads preparing for their match against Algeria, Fabio Capello is seated facing away from the lads drinking lemon and honey tea*
Pearce: Alright lads, the boss is saving his voice for yelling at you from the touchline. He wants me and Becks to get you ready for the match. Becks?
Beckham: Yeah ... We have to be preperationed lads, to be honest I don't know much about Aljazeera.
*The lads look at each other puzzled*
Beckham: I watched some of their videos on the Youtube and can tell you you're in for a tough time. Anyway I've made some tactics for the match.
*The lads look at each other impressed and lean in expectedly as Beckham produces flashcards*
Beckham: Rob, I know how it feels to make a mistake and be villified by the nation.
*Green Nods*
Beckham: The answer's to change your image..... Mohawk.
*Beckham holds up a flashcard with a mocked up image of Rob Green with a mohawk, Pearce raises an eyebrow*
Beckham: Ashley, you're a great defender but you're a bit small and no-one likes you, we're going to make you meaner AND more popular... With a Mr.T cut.
*Beckham holds up a picture of Mr.T with Ashley Cole's face super-imposed on it*
A.Cole: I pity tha foo'!
*The dressing room erupts with laughter except Pearce who's face is reddening with each card as Beckham goes on*
Beckham: Lamps... Dreadlocks.
Lampard: Yeah mon!
Beckham: Stevie, Valderrama Afro...
*Pearce explodes with rage grabbing the cards and tearing them up*
Pearce: Enough! This a World Cup dressing room not some reality make-over show!
Beckham: But I've not even announced my kit variations yet....
*Beckham gestures to the "kits" hanging from each player's peg .... a pair of designer sunglasses and a pair of tiny white briefs.*
Pearce: Out.
Beckham: But it's hot out there.
Pearce: Out!
*Pearce is marshalling Beckham out of the room.*
Beckham: and sunny....
*Pearce slams the door behind Beckham, he can still be heard behind the door*
Beckham: Think of the publicity!
Pearce (dusting his hands together): Right, back to football. Is James any better?
*A number of the lads run fleeing from the showers followed by a soaking wet, fully clothed Milner making a stabbing motion with each note he makes*
Milner: Ree! Ree! Ree! Ree! Ree! Ree! Ree! Ree!
Pearce: Who's let him at the metal cutlery again!? Anyway, he looks fine to play.
*Pearce ticks his clipboard, the lads look at each other with worry*
Pearce: Lads, I'm going to give you the talk I used to give my Under-21s. They're going to want to break your legs out there. Break theirs first. Emile, James I'm counting on you.
Pearce: Alright lads, the boss is saving his voice for yelling at you from the touchline. He wants me and Becks to get you ready for the match. Becks?
Beckham: Yeah ... We have to be preperationed lads, to be honest I don't know much about Aljazeera.
*The lads look at each other puzzled*
Beckham: I watched some of their videos on the Youtube and can tell you you're in for a tough time. Anyway I've made some tactics for the match.
*The lads look at each other impressed and lean in expectedly as Beckham produces flashcards*
Beckham: Rob, I know how it feels to make a mistake and be villified by the nation.
*Green Nods*
Beckham: The answer's to change your image..... Mohawk.
*Beckham holds up a flashcard with a mocked up image of Rob Green with a mohawk, Pearce raises an eyebrow*
Beckham: Ashley, you're a great defender but you're a bit small and no-one likes you, we're going to make you meaner AND more popular... With a Mr.T cut.
*Beckham holds up a picture of Mr.T with Ashley Cole's face super-imposed on it*
A.Cole: I pity tha foo'!
*The dressing room erupts with laughter except Pearce who's face is reddening with each card as Beckham goes on*
Beckham: Lamps... Dreadlocks.
Lampard: Yeah mon!
Beckham: Stevie, Valderrama Afro...
*Pearce explodes with rage grabbing the cards and tearing them up*
Pearce: Enough! This a World Cup dressing room not some reality make-over show!
Beckham: But I've not even announced my kit variations yet....
*Beckham gestures to the "kits" hanging from each player's peg .... a pair of designer sunglasses and a pair of tiny white briefs.*
Pearce: Out.
Beckham: But it's hot out there.
Pearce: Out!
*Pearce is marshalling Beckham out of the room.*
Beckham: and sunny....
*Pearce slams the door behind Beckham, he can still be heard behind the door*
Beckham: Think of the publicity!
Pearce (dusting his hands together): Right, back to football. Is James any better?
*A number of the lads run fleeing from the showers followed by a soaking wet, fully clothed Milner making a stabbing motion with each note he makes*
Milner: Ree! Ree! Ree! Ree! Ree! Ree! Ree! Ree!
Pearce: Who's let him at the metal cutlery again!? Anyway, he looks fine to play.
*Pearce ticks his clipboard, the lads look at each other with worry*
Pearce: Lads, I'm going to give you the talk I used to give my Under-21s. They're going to want to break your legs out there. Break theirs first. Emile, James I'm counting on you.
*World Cup* - Post U.S.A
*We join the England lads muted after their 1-1 draw with the USA*
Capello: Come now fellas, things are not so bad, it's a nice place.....
Pearce: Er .... Boss, we have a problem.
Capello: Eh?
Pearce: Well .... It appears some of the US players made Emile angry ... and ... Well...
*Pearce raises his phone to show Capello video footage.*
................
Heskey: HESKEY SMASH!
*A car is flipped wildly in the air by Heskey, stewards armed with corner flags and vuvuzelas are trying to pen him in*
Steward 1: We're not getting paid enough for this.
Steward 2: Yes, and I have to play for Algeria on Friday.
Steward 3: How many people will this creature injure!?
*A steward runs at Heskey with a vuvezela, Heskey promptly shoves it where the sun doesn't shine, the english contingent watching cheer*
.................
Pearce: The cover story is a steward pay protest broken up by riot police. I mean you add that to our James Milner problem...
*Pearce points to Milner who is strapped to a trolley in a straight jacket wearing a facemask.*
Lennon: Is he ... OK?
*Lennon leans in to Milner who snaps biting behind the mask, Lennon pulls away*
Pearce: He'll be fine he's just got a bit of the ol' "World Cup Psychosis" happens to the best of us, all he need is to pick up a gaping head wound and miss a penalty and he'll be fine. And then of course Ledley King.
King: Oh don't worry about me, I'm fine.
Pearce: Ledley .... I don't think you'll play any further part in our World Cup.
King: What?! It's a flesh wound!
*The lads all look with concern at King*
Pearce: Ledley, they took your leg, I don't think....
King: I'll be fine, I've played with worse. Watch.
*King eyes a ball in the dressing room, staring at it intently he rises from his chair to his foot promptly collapsing like a cut tree onto his face, the gust of air created by his body hitting the ground causes the ball to wobble slightly*
King (muffled by the floor): See, good as new.
Pearce: O.....K. The last thing on my report boss is *Pearce drops to a whisper* Robert Green, perhaps you want to give him a word of encouragement?
Capello: Yes, yes of course. The man management she is my speciality yes? Robert?
*Green looks hopefully at Capello*
Green: Yes boss.
Capello: Robert I give you wisdom, at home in Italy the goalkeepers, they catch the ball when it's kicked at them, is best wat to stop it going in.
*Green nods whilst scribbling down on his notepad*
Green: ....Ball.. CATCH.... Gotcha, thanks boss.
Capello: Is no problem.
Capello: Come now fellas, things are not so bad, it's a nice place.....
Pearce: Er .... Boss, we have a problem.
Capello: Eh?
Pearce: Well .... It appears some of the US players made Emile angry ... and ... Well...
*Pearce raises his phone to show Capello video footage.*
................
Heskey: HESKEY SMASH!
*A car is flipped wildly in the air by Heskey, stewards armed with corner flags and vuvuzelas are trying to pen him in*
Steward 1: We're not getting paid enough for this.
Steward 2: Yes, and I have to play for Algeria on Friday.
Steward 3: How many people will this creature injure!?
*A steward runs at Heskey with a vuvezela, Heskey promptly shoves it where the sun doesn't shine, the english contingent watching cheer*
.................
Pearce: The cover story is a steward pay protest broken up by riot police. I mean you add that to our James Milner problem...
*Pearce points to Milner who is strapped to a trolley in a straight jacket wearing a facemask.*
Lennon: Is he ... OK?
*Lennon leans in to Milner who snaps biting behind the mask, Lennon pulls away*
Pearce: He'll be fine he's just got a bit of the ol' "World Cup Psychosis" happens to the best of us, all he need is to pick up a gaping head wound and miss a penalty and he'll be fine. And then of course Ledley King.
King: Oh don't worry about me, I'm fine.
Pearce: Ledley .... I don't think you'll play any further part in our World Cup.
King: What?! It's a flesh wound!
*The lads all look with concern at King*
Pearce: Ledley, they took your leg, I don't think....
King: I'll be fine, I've played with worse. Watch.
*King eyes a ball in the dressing room, staring at it intently he rises from his chair to his foot promptly collapsing like a cut tree onto his face, the gust of air created by his body hitting the ground causes the ball to wobble slightly*
King (muffled by the floor): See, good as new.
Pearce: O.....K. The last thing on my report boss is *Pearce drops to a whisper* Robert Green, perhaps you want to give him a word of encouragement?
Capello: Yes, yes of course. The man management she is my speciality yes? Robert?
*Green looks hopefully at Capello*
Green: Yes boss.
Capello: Robert I give you wisdom, at home in Italy the goalkeepers, they catch the ball when it's kicked at them, is best wat to stop it going in.
*Green nods whilst scribbling down on his notepad*
Green: ....Ball.. CATCH.... Gotcha, thanks boss.
Capello: Is no problem.
*World Cup* - Pre U.S.A
*We join the England Lads gearing up for their clash against USA, Rooney arrives last, he unzips his jacket.*
Motson: Roooooooneeeey!!!!
*The lads look around wondering where John Motson's voice came from*
Lampard: Why does Motson scream your name whenever you do anything?
Rooney: Who? John Motson? No he doesn't.
*Rooney scratches his head*
Motson: Roooooooneeeey!!!!
*Lampard raises an eyebrow at Rooney whilst everyone else again looks for the source of Motson's voice*
Capello: Ah The Wayne Rooney! Look ev'rybody the Wayne Rooney she is here!
*The lads roll their eyes*
Capello: Now all the papers they say "Wayne Rooney will win the cup on his own" and "the team she is useless without Rooney". This is true. Because the rest of you are how you say .... Rubbish.
Defoe: Hey I'm not Rub...
Capello: You shutta ya face Darren.
Defoe: Darren? I'm ....
*Capello throws a chalkboard eraser at Defoe*
Capello: I say shutta ya face! You learn be good player like Rooney and maybe, maybe I learn your name!
*Defoe is rubbing his head*
Defoe: There's not even a blackboard in here!
Rooney: Thanks boss, I've been constantly working on improving all my areas of play.
Sea Captain: Arrrrr Matey!
Crouch: Why do you have a sea captain with you?
Rooney: Who? Captain Englbeard?
Capt. Englbeard: Avast me Hearty!
Crouch: I ... er ... Guess so.
Rooney: The news said I need to work on my anchor, so ...
*Capello interrupts, pointing*
Capello: Now you, Michael Dawson, you will start on the left wing.
Gerrard: I'm Stevie. Stevie G.
Capello: Well now you Michael Dawson.
Dawson: So who am I boss?
Capello: I don't know. Who are you? and why are you here?
*The dressing room erupts with laughter.*
Dawson: Oh come on, Ledley help me out here.
*King shrugs his shoulders still chuckling in his wheelchair whilst screwing on his wooden leg.*
Capello: Joey!? Joey? Where is Joey?
J.Cole: Here boss.
*Joe Cole is covered in shoe polish, he has his hand out to a suited Ferdinand who is admiring his newly shined shoes*
J.Cole: that'll be ... 110 grand.
*Ferdinand spits out his coffee*
J.Cole: What? I gotta make a livin'.
Pearce: I can't stand the yanks, bunch of show offs, If I was playing I'd .....
Capello: Stuart, Stuart calm down, the Americans they are not so bad.
*There is a knock at the door, Cappello gestures for Stuart Pearce to answer it, it's a number of the USA team, Tim Howard is wearing Friedel's "Uncle Sam" boxing shorts and top hat they are all singing James Brown's "Living in America"*
Howard: Y'know what Mean Jean!? When I get my hands on you at Wrestlemania I'm gonna...
Pearce: Let me stop you there... Firstly ....
*Clint Dempsey interrupts striding in wearing a tracksuit and breakdancing in the middle of the Dressing Room*
USA Team: Go Dempsey, Go Dempsey, Go Dempsey!
Heskey: Go Dempsey!
Pearce: Emile!
*Heskey hangs his head*
Heskey: Sorry boss.
*Dempsey finishes and points at the England team as he backs out of the room*
Donavan: Ooooh! You've been served!
USA Team: USA! USA! USA! USA!
*Red, white and blue fireworks erupt and a marching band strike up "star spangled banner"*
USA Team: Whoooooooooooooooo!
*Pearce herds them out and slams the door*
Pearce: Typical yanks.
Motson: Roooooooneeeey!!!!
*The toilet flushes, Rooney emerges from the bathroom*
Motson: Roooooooneeeey!!!!
*The lads look around wondering where John Motson's voice came from*
Lampard: Why does Motson scream your name whenever you do anything?
Rooney: Who? John Motson? No he doesn't.
*Rooney scratches his head*
Motson: Roooooooneeeey!!!!
*Lampard raises an eyebrow at Rooney whilst everyone else again looks for the source of Motson's voice*
Capello: Ah The Wayne Rooney! Look ev'rybody the Wayne Rooney she is here!
*The lads roll their eyes*
Capello: Now all the papers they say "Wayne Rooney will win the cup on his own" and "the team she is useless without Rooney". This is true. Because the rest of you are how you say .... Rubbish.
Defoe: Hey I'm not Rub...
Capello: You shutta ya face Darren.
Defoe: Darren? I'm ....
*Capello throws a chalkboard eraser at Defoe*
Capello: I say shutta ya face! You learn be good player like Rooney and maybe, maybe I learn your name!
*Defoe is rubbing his head*
Defoe: There's not even a blackboard in here!
Rooney: Thanks boss, I've been constantly working on improving all my areas of play.
Sea Captain: Arrrrr Matey!
Crouch: Why do you have a sea captain with you?
Rooney: Who? Captain Englbeard?
Capt. Englbeard: Avast me Hearty!
Crouch: I ... er ... Guess so.
Rooney: The news said I need to work on my anchor, so ...
*Capello interrupts, pointing*
Capello: Now you, Michael Dawson, you will start on the left wing.
Gerrard: I'm Stevie. Stevie G.
Capello: Well now you Michael Dawson.
Dawson: So who am I boss?
Capello: I don't know. Who are you? and why are you here?
*The dressing room erupts with laughter.*
Dawson: Oh come on, Ledley help me out here.
*King shrugs his shoulders still chuckling in his wheelchair whilst screwing on his wooden leg.*
Capello: Joey!? Joey? Where is Joey?
J.Cole: Here boss.
*Joe Cole is covered in shoe polish, he has his hand out to a suited Ferdinand who is admiring his newly shined shoes*
J.Cole: that'll be ... 110 grand.
*Ferdinand spits out his coffee*
J.Cole: What? I gotta make a livin'.
Pearce: I can't stand the yanks, bunch of show offs, If I was playing I'd .....
Capello: Stuart, Stuart calm down, the Americans they are not so bad.
*There is a knock at the door, Cappello gestures for Stuart Pearce to answer it, it's a number of the USA team, Tim Howard is wearing Friedel's "Uncle Sam" boxing shorts and top hat they are all singing James Brown's "Living in America"*
Howard: Y'know what Mean Jean!? When I get my hands on you at Wrestlemania I'm gonna...
Pearce: Let me stop you there... Firstly ....
*Clint Dempsey interrupts striding in wearing a tracksuit and breakdancing in the middle of the Dressing Room*
USA Team: Go Dempsey, Go Dempsey, Go Dempsey!
Heskey: Go Dempsey!
Pearce: Emile!
*Heskey hangs his head*
Heskey: Sorry boss.
*Dempsey finishes and points at the England team as he backs out of the room*
Donavan: Ooooh! You've been served!
USA Team: USA! USA! USA! USA!
*Red, white and blue fireworks erupt and a marching band strike up "star spangled banner"*
USA Team: Whoooooooooooooooo!
*Pearce herds them out and slams the door*
Pearce: Typical yanks.
Motson: Roooooooneeeey!!!!
*The toilet flushes, Rooney emerges from the bathroom*
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