*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.
Saturday, 26 June 2010
*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*
Robbie Keane Day
*We join the lads in the Dressing Room at a loss as to why MON has called them all to gather there, MON enters carrying a large box.*
MON: Hey lads! Thanks for coming.
*Delfouneso yawns and stretches*
MON: Heavens above Nathan have you just got up!? It's 3 in the afternoon!
Delfouneso: Yeah boss, I was up all night playing COD with Marc.
*Albrighton is rubbing his bleary eyes whilst nodding in agreement*
MON: You were playing .... You .... You didn't kill anyone did you?
Delfouneso: Yeah loads.
*Albrighton and Delfouneso Hi-five each other as MON's face drains of all colour and he looks on horrified*
MON: Nathan, Marc, you can't .... You can't just kill people, I know you're young and you earn fortunes but you can't play God!
Delfouneso: COD boss COD.
MON: Cod!? What is this more of your street slang? Is this the mark of death!?
Young: Boss ... Why are we here?
MON: Oh Yes ...
*MON smiles widely again*
MON: It's Robbie Keane Day everyone!
Gabby: Yay!
Beye: Robbie Keane Day? What is this "Robbie Keane Day"?
MON: Who are you!?
Beye: Habib Beye ... Right back? ...
*MON looks non the wiser*
Beye: You bought me in the middle of the last transfer window?
MON: Right Back? In the MIDDLE of the window? That doesn't sound like me ..... But as it's a celebration I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.
Warnock: So? .... Robbie Keane Day?
Gabby: Yay!
MON: Yes, every year Aston Villa are linked with Robbie Keane, we celebrate this day as Robbie Keane Day ....here.
*MON opens the box, there is a paper Robbie Keane Mask for each player*
Gabby: Yeah, it dates back to when William McGregor set up the football league and first tried to get Robbie Keane for Villa.
Young: But Robbie Keane wasn't born, that was 100 years ago.
Gabby: Yeah, that was the stumbling block for those first few seasons.
*MON holds up a copy of "Ye Olde Daily Mail" A.Young reads the sports headlines*
Young: "Aston Villa name unborn striker messiah"? Boss most of this seems to be the inane ramblings of a mad man.
MON: Yes, not much has changed.
*MON hands a copy of a modern Daily Mail linking Robbie Keane to Villa*
Young: Oh yeah.
*Downing is wearing his Robbie Keane mask*
Downing: Hey mon, I is Robbie Keane, I tink I'm gonna score some goals mon.
*The lads look disturbed by Downing*
Dunne(through his Robbie Keane mask): Stewart, Robbie Keane's Irish.
Downing: Me know mon.
A.Young(through his Robbie Keane mask): Then why the cringeworthy jamaican accent?
Downing: Wha? Dis is Irish mon.
Gabby(through his Robbie Keane mask): You're ruining Robbie Keane Day!
Downing: Chill out mon, relax, everyting is Irie.
*Gabby tears off Downing's mask*
Downing: Aww man.
*Delfouneso whispers to Albrighton*
Delfouneso(through his Robbie Keane mask): I say we kill Stewart. Tonight.
*Heskey bursts through the door, he's wearing a mask*
Heskey: Hey everyone! Sorry I'm late, look I made a mask! Happy Robbie Earle day! I've got a "Crazy Gang" dance and every....
*Heskey looks around to see all the "Robbie Keanes" staring at him*
Heskey: Dang!
*Heskey hangs his smiling Robbie Earle masked head and leaves the dressing room*
MON: Hey lads! Thanks for coming.
*Delfouneso yawns and stretches*
MON: Heavens above Nathan have you just got up!? It's 3 in the afternoon!
Delfouneso: Yeah boss, I was up all night playing COD with Marc.
*Albrighton is rubbing his bleary eyes whilst nodding in agreement*
MON: You were playing .... You .... You didn't kill anyone did you?
Delfouneso: Yeah loads.
*Albrighton and Delfouneso Hi-five each other as MON's face drains of all colour and he looks on horrified*
MON: Nathan, Marc, you can't .... You can't just kill people, I know you're young and you earn fortunes but you can't play God!
Delfouneso: COD boss COD.
MON: Cod!? What is this more of your street slang? Is this the mark of death!?
Young: Boss ... Why are we here?
MON: Oh Yes ...
*MON smiles widely again*
MON: It's Robbie Keane Day everyone!
Gabby: Yay!
Beye: Robbie Keane Day? What is this "Robbie Keane Day"?
MON: Who are you!?
Beye: Habib Beye ... Right back? ...
*MON looks non the wiser*
Beye: You bought me in the middle of the last transfer window?
MON: Right Back? In the MIDDLE of the window? That doesn't sound like me ..... But as it's a celebration I'll give you the benefit of the doubt.
Warnock: So? .... Robbie Keane Day?
Gabby: Yay!
MON: Yes, every year Aston Villa are linked with Robbie Keane, we celebrate this day as Robbie Keane Day ....here.
*MON opens the box, there is a paper Robbie Keane Mask for each player*
Gabby: Yeah, it dates back to when William McGregor set up the football league and first tried to get Robbie Keane for Villa.
Young: But Robbie Keane wasn't born, that was 100 years ago.
Gabby: Yeah, that was the stumbling block for those first few seasons.
*MON holds up a copy of "Ye Olde Daily Mail" A.Young reads the sports headlines*
Young: "Aston Villa name unborn striker messiah"? Boss most of this seems to be the inane ramblings of a mad man.
MON: Yes, not much has changed.
*MON hands a copy of a modern Daily Mail linking Robbie Keane to Villa*
Young: Oh yeah.
*Downing is wearing his Robbie Keane mask*
Downing: Hey mon, I is Robbie Keane, I tink I'm gonna score some goals mon.
*The lads look disturbed by Downing*
Dunne(through his Robbie Keane mask): Stewart, Robbie Keane's Irish.
Downing: Me know mon.
A.Young(through his Robbie Keane mask): Then why the cringeworthy jamaican accent?
Downing: Wha? Dis is Irish mon.
Gabby(through his Robbie Keane mask): You're ruining Robbie Keane Day!
Downing: Chill out mon, relax, everyting is Irie.
*Gabby tears off Downing's mask*
Downing: Aww man.
*Delfouneso whispers to Albrighton*
Delfouneso(through his Robbie Keane mask): I say we kill Stewart. Tonight.
*Heskey bursts through the door, he's wearing a mask*
Heskey: Hey everyone! Sorry I'm late, look I made a mask! Happy Robbie Earle day! I've got a "Crazy Gang" dance and every....
*Heskey looks around to see all the "Robbie Keanes" staring at him*
Heskey: Dang!
*Heskey hangs his smiling Robbie Earle masked head and leaves the dressing room*
The Riddler
*We join MON arriving at a press conference surrounding his meeting with Randy Lerner and his future plans*
MON: Hello everyone, hello!
*MON takes his seat he pulls a green bowler hat covered in black question marks from under the desk and puts it on*
MON: Questions anyone?
*a Sun journo lifts his hands*
Sun Journo: Awight Martee, me auld china, lavley jabbly.....
MON: Are you quite finished establishing yourself as a burly, everyman cockney.
Sun Journo: Yes. So are you going to leave or what?
MON: Well..
*The journos all lean in tentatively, pens at the ready*
MON: At this stage, you never know. I may, I probably won't, I mean I don't want to, but you never can tell.
*The journos look at each other confused, one of them reads back what he's jotted down and throws himself out the nearest window in despair.*
MON: Well, that's one down. Question I mean not journalist.
*The press conference erupts with laughter the SKY Sports journo stands*
SKY Sports Journo: Hi Martin, SKY Sports here, I'd just like to ask you a .....
*The SKY Sports Journo completely changes his voice as he raises a placard from his chair*
SKY Sports Journo: For a smoother, closer shave it has to be Gilette. Gilette,the best a man can get!
*The SKY Sports journo shakes his head and returns to his original voice the others are looking at him with bewilderment*
SKY Sports Journo: So anyway Martin are you going to Liverpool?
MON: I don't really see why I'd go to Liverpool I mean I like the Beatles as much as the next man but honestly the shopping's as good here in Birmingham and the car parks are for more secure.
SKY Sports Journo: No I mean to manage.
MON: Oh, yes I see why you might ask that question, they need a manager who could improve them and well I could get them 6th place.
*The press conference erupts with laughter*
MON: Seriously though Liverpool is a big club and a challenge, though Aston Villa is also a big club and also a challenge.
SKY Sports Journo: So are you ....
MON: Am I going to Liverpool? I suppose there are bigger questions. If a tree falls in the forest and no-one's around does it make a sound?
SKY Sports Journo: Yes. Obviously.
MON: It's a rhetorical question, one that has plagued man for ....
SKY Sports Journo: My question wasn't rhetorical though Martin are you just stalling until I have to go into another ......
*The SKY Sports Journo completely changes his voice as he raises a placard again*
SKY Sports Journo: Renault Clio? Ford Focus? For the love of God man buy one and tell them SKY sent you or Rupert Murdoch said he's going to come around my house and....
MON: Next question?
Times Journo: Hello, The Times here. I am considerably more high brow and self important than the other "journalists" here.
Sun Journo: Hey!
Times Journo: Pipe down you oik! Anyway Martin whatever your answer to my question I probably will have a far superior answer myself, that said I shan't bother asking you a question. Good day sir.
*The Times Journalist stands and leaves.*
MON: Excellent, so that's your lot. Thanks for coming.
*The journos groan and grumble as they file out of the conference*
MON: John did I make any sense at all?
Robertson: No boss.
MON: Fantastic.
MON: Hello everyone, hello!
*MON takes his seat he pulls a green bowler hat covered in black question marks from under the desk and puts it on*
MON: Questions anyone?
*a Sun journo lifts his hands*
Sun Journo: Awight Martee, me auld china, lavley jabbly.....
MON: Are you quite finished establishing yourself as a burly, everyman cockney.
Sun Journo: Yes. So are you going to leave or what?
MON: Well..
*The journos all lean in tentatively, pens at the ready*
MON: At this stage, you never know. I may, I probably won't, I mean I don't want to, but you never can tell.
*The journos look at each other confused, one of them reads back what he's jotted down and throws himself out the nearest window in despair.*
MON: Well, that's one down. Question I mean not journalist.
*The press conference erupts with laughter the SKY Sports journo stands*
SKY Sports Journo: Hi Martin, SKY Sports here, I'd just like to ask you a .....
*The SKY Sports Journo completely changes his voice as he raises a placard from his chair*
SKY Sports Journo: For a smoother, closer shave it has to be Gilette. Gilette,the best a man can get!
*The SKY Sports journo shakes his head and returns to his original voice the others are looking at him with bewilderment*
SKY Sports Journo: So anyway Martin are you going to Liverpool?
MON: I don't really see why I'd go to Liverpool I mean I like the Beatles as much as the next man but honestly the shopping's as good here in Birmingham and the car parks are for more secure.
SKY Sports Journo: No I mean to manage.
MON: Oh, yes I see why you might ask that question, they need a manager who could improve them and well I could get them 6th place.
*The press conference erupts with laughter*
MON: Seriously though Liverpool is a big club and a challenge, though Aston Villa is also a big club and also a challenge.
SKY Sports Journo: So are you ....
MON: Am I going to Liverpool? I suppose there are bigger questions. If a tree falls in the forest and no-one's around does it make a sound?
SKY Sports Journo: Yes. Obviously.
MON: It's a rhetorical question, one that has plagued man for ....
SKY Sports Journo: My question wasn't rhetorical though Martin are you just stalling until I have to go into another ......
*The SKY Sports Journo completely changes his voice as he raises a placard again*
SKY Sports Journo: Renault Clio? Ford Focus? For the love of God man buy one and tell them SKY sent you or Rupert Murdoch said he's going to come around my house and....
MON: Next question?
Times Journo: Hello, The Times here. I am considerably more high brow and self important than the other "journalists" here.
Sun Journo: Hey!
Times Journo: Pipe down you oik! Anyway Martin whatever your answer to my question I probably will have a far superior answer myself, that said I shan't bother asking you a question. Good day sir.
*The Times Journalist stands and leaves.*
MON: Excellent, so that's your lot. Thanks for coming.
*The journos groan and grumble as they file out of the conference*
MON: John did I make any sense at all?
Robertson: No boss.
MON: Fantastic.
Match 38: Post Blackburn
*We join the lads upset with the loss but over all satisfied with the league's end*
MON: Well lads, we lost to Blackburn again. On the plus side though Sam Allardyce's men didn't kill any of us.
L.Young: What about Steve boss?
*Luke Young points to the coffin rested on three dressing room chairs.*
MON: Oh.... Yes .... Stephen is a sorry loss, his father Neil will be here to pick up his remains.
*MON places a lily on the coffin, a muffled voice chimes from inside it*
Warnock: I'm not dead and Neil's not my dad!
L.Young: Hang on boss, I can hear his voice!
MON: We all can Luke, we all can. He was a great man....
Downing: Noor man, he's alive ... In the coffin like.
MON: Lads, lads lets not get delirious with grief, Robbo take Stephen to his resting place.
*Robertson wheels out a trolley.*
Warnock: No! Wait! This is just the bosses ploy to do his yearly full-back replacement! Let me out!
*MON 'shoos' Robertson to move with more urgency whilst the padlock on it's side jumps each time the lid is banged from the inside.*
Warnock: I'm alive! Aliiii.......
*The door closes behind Robertson as he exits with Warnock*
A.Young: So boss everybody's asking ..... What're you going to do now?
MON: You're right, everybody is asking and all this talk of my 'uncertain future' forced me to search out Glenn Hoddle's psychic.
A.Young: Oh yeah? What did she say?
MON: Not much more than 'don't go to the paralympics'
A.Young: Oh .... Right. Any idea if you're going to be selling anyone over the summer.
MON: Not the foggiest Ashley.
NRC: Boss I can see that you're pointing at your palm in my direction.
MON: What Nigel? I did nothing of the sort.
NRC: You're still doing it! Now you're nodding, winking and appear to be mouthing the words 'Nigel Reo-Coker'
MON: Nigel I'm offended! I would never make my business so commonplace.
Carew: And what about this '20 a season' striker all the fans are calling for?
MON: Not to worry John. That striker is already with us and next season he'll be the '20 a season' man.
Carew: I think it's a little unfair to heap so much pressure on Nathan boss, he is still just a kid and...
MON: Who said anything about Nathan?
*MON tosses Heskey an object, he instinctively catches it and peers down into his hand*
Heskey: Benson & Hedges?
MON: Yes. Twenty.
Heskey: But boss .... I don't smoke and I don't think...
MON: Emile is there anything you do do? No Goal chair!
Heskey: But.
MON: Now!
*Curtis Davies and Bouma chuckle*
MON: Who on Earth are you!? Security! Security!
MON: Well lads, we lost to Blackburn again. On the plus side though Sam Allardyce's men didn't kill any of us.
L.Young: What about Steve boss?
*Luke Young points to the coffin rested on three dressing room chairs.*
MON: Oh.... Yes .... Stephen is a sorry loss, his father Neil will be here to pick up his remains.
*MON places a lily on the coffin, a muffled voice chimes from inside it*
Warnock: I'm not dead and Neil's not my dad!
L.Young: Hang on boss, I can hear his voice!
MON: We all can Luke, we all can. He was a great man....
Downing: Noor man, he's alive ... In the coffin like.
MON: Lads, lads lets not get delirious with grief, Robbo take Stephen to his resting place.
*Robertson wheels out a trolley.*
Warnock: No! Wait! This is just the bosses ploy to do his yearly full-back replacement! Let me out!
*MON 'shoos' Robertson to move with more urgency whilst the padlock on it's side jumps each time the lid is banged from the inside.*
Warnock: I'm alive! Aliiii.......
*The door closes behind Robertson as he exits with Warnock*
A.Young: So boss everybody's asking ..... What're you going to do now?
MON: You're right, everybody is asking and all this talk of my 'uncertain future' forced me to search out Glenn Hoddle's psychic.
A.Young: Oh yeah? What did she say?
MON: Not much more than 'don't go to the paralympics'
A.Young: Oh .... Right. Any idea if you're going to be selling anyone over the summer.
MON: Not the foggiest Ashley.
NRC: Boss I can see that you're pointing at your palm in my direction.
MON: What Nigel? I did nothing of the sort.
NRC: You're still doing it! Now you're nodding, winking and appear to be mouthing the words 'Nigel Reo-Coker'
MON: Nigel I'm offended! I would never make my business so commonplace.
Carew: And what about this '20 a season' striker all the fans are calling for?
MON: Not to worry John. That striker is already with us and next season he'll be the '20 a season' man.
Carew: I think it's a little unfair to heap so much pressure on Nathan boss, he is still just a kid and...
MON: Who said anything about Nathan?
*MON tosses Heskey an object, he instinctively catches it and peers down into his hand*
Heskey: Benson & Hedges?
MON: Yes. Twenty.
Heskey: But boss .... I don't smoke and I don't think...
MON: Emile is there anything you do do? No Goal chair!
Heskey: But.
MON: Now!
*Curtis Davies and Bouma chuckle*
MON: Who on Earth are you!? Security! Security!
Match 38: Blackburn Rovers
*We join the lads gearing up for the clash against Blackburn, MON is sporting a wide grin*
A.Young: Why so happy boss?
MON: Because Ashley, a certain player who isn't with us anymore doesn't look like he'll be playing Champion's League next season after all.
Carew: .... Who's not with us any more?
MON: Gareth Barry of course.
Gabby: Gareth's dead!?
MON: What? No of course he's not dead, am I wearing a party hat?
A.Young: Isn't that a bit bitter boss?
MON: Bitter!? In the bible did Judas Ischariot play Champion's League after betraying Jesus?
*The lads shrug at the rhetorical question except Gabby who is pondering an answer*
Gabby: ..... Yes?......
MON: No Gabriel.
Gabby: No?.... Wasn't he the little bloke with the good dribble and the 'hand of God'
MON: That's Maradonna Gabriel and it was the in the World Cup.
Gabby: Was that before she was a singer then boss?
MON: Singer? What are you....?
Gabby: She had 'Unbelivable Tekkers'
MON: Gabriel how many times have I said not to say that silly slogan with that silly voice?
Carew: What slogan boss?
MON: 'Unbelievable Tekkers'
*the dressing room erupts with laughter*
Carew: No one does the voice as good as you boss!
MON: Enough of this foolishness anyway. It's been an eventful season lads ... and ....
*MON is welling up with tears, he sniffs*
MON: and .... Well against a team managed by Sam Allardyce I can imagine some of you won't be making it back.
*The team look at each other in shock*
MON: I mean last time we played Blackburn ..... Well.... Nigel met his end.
NRC: Hey! I'm not dead.
MON: You are to me!
*The dressing room erupts with laughter*
MON: Honestly Nigel you can't just agree with me can you? Always have to put your two penneth in. James ... James, you seem a little distracted today?
*Milner is polishing his young player of the year award, he looks up from the Brasso and rag*
Milner: Aye sorry boss, just admirin' me Young Player of tha Year award like.
Carew: Ah, I won that once, it was the proudest moment of my life.
*A sceptical Ashley Young checks Wikipedia on his trusty ever-present laptop*
A.Young: It doesn't say anything here about you wining young player of the year John?
Carew: Oh I thought you said 'Hung Playa of the Year'
*Ashley checks the laptop again*
A.Young: Oh yeah.
A.Young: Why so happy boss?
MON: Because Ashley, a certain player who isn't with us anymore doesn't look like he'll be playing Champion's League next season after all.
Carew: .... Who's not with us any more?
MON: Gareth Barry of course.
Gabby: Gareth's dead!?
MON: What? No of course he's not dead, am I wearing a party hat?
A.Young: Isn't that a bit bitter boss?
MON: Bitter!? In the bible did Judas Ischariot play Champion's League after betraying Jesus?
*The lads shrug at the rhetorical question except Gabby who is pondering an answer*
Gabby: ..... Yes?......
MON: No Gabriel.
Gabby: No?.... Wasn't he the little bloke with the good dribble and the 'hand of God'
MON: That's Maradonna Gabriel and it was the in the World Cup.
Gabby: Was that before she was a singer then boss?
MON: Singer? What are you....?
Gabby: She had 'Unbelivable Tekkers'
MON: Gabriel how many times have I said not to say that silly slogan with that silly voice?
Carew: What slogan boss?
MON: 'Unbelievable Tekkers'
*the dressing room erupts with laughter*
Carew: No one does the voice as good as you boss!
MON: Enough of this foolishness anyway. It's been an eventful season lads ... and ....
*MON is welling up with tears, he sniffs*
MON: and .... Well against a team managed by Sam Allardyce I can imagine some of you won't be making it back.
*The team look at each other in shock*
MON: I mean last time we played Blackburn ..... Well.... Nigel met his end.
NRC: Hey! I'm not dead.
MON: You are to me!
*The dressing room erupts with laughter*
MON: Honestly Nigel you can't just agree with me can you? Always have to put your two penneth in. James ... James, you seem a little distracted today?
*Milner is polishing his young player of the year award, he looks up from the Brasso and rag*
Milner: Aye sorry boss, just admirin' me Young Player of tha Year award like.
Carew: Ah, I won that once, it was the proudest moment of my life.
*A sceptical Ashley Young checks Wikipedia on his trusty ever-present laptop*
A.Young: It doesn't say anything here about you wining young player of the year John?
Carew: Oh I thought you said 'Hung Playa of the Year'
*Ashley checks the laptop again*
A.Young: Oh yeah.
Match 37: Post Man. City
*We join the lads pondering their loss to Man City and missing out on Champion's League*
MON: Lads I'm not going to lie, you've let me down, I mean missing out on Champion's League? Who am I? Rafa Benitez?
*the dressing room erupts with laughter except for Warnock who has his head bowed*
MON: Oh Steve, don't be so hard on yourself, it's not so bad.
Warnock: Really boss?
*Warnock smiles as tears and snot run toward his grin.*
MON: No! Hoist it aloft boys!
*The lads pull ropes and a large crucifix is erected, Warnock looks at it wide-eyed with terror.*
MON: Playing a left back at left back ... What was I thinking? See if that happens again!
Heskey: I'm just glad there's not a 'no goal' crucifix.
*MON rubs his chin*
MON: Hmmmmm....
........
Later on a hill near Bodymoor Heath....
......
Heskey: .... So I said I've got it Wayne, I'll pass it to you and YOU score. I mean of course once I'd taught him to score he couldn't stop and.....
Warnock: Emile you've been telling your rubbish England story lies for 9 hours solid now as if us hanging from crosses whilst birds peck at and defacate on us isn't punishment enough!
NRC: I don't even know why they hung me up here! Man, talk about 'don't cross the boss'.
*NRC chuckles to himself*
NRC: Get it? 'Cross'
*Heskey and Warnock look across at NRC with narrowed eyes*
NRC: Geez guys, lets not be negative. Some things in life are bad, They can really make you mad.
*Delph wheels up the hill*
Delph: #Petrov told me our hotel was cursed.#
*Cuellar appears a flank of meat in hand*
Cuellar: #When you're chewin' trotter gristle.#
Heskey: #and past the post your shots all whistle.#
*The lads all emerge including MON, joining hands around the crucified three swaying and singing.*
All the Lads: Just remember Villa are the beeeeest and always look on the bright side of life........
MON: Lads I'm not going to lie, you've let me down, I mean missing out on Champion's League? Who am I? Rafa Benitez?
*the dressing room erupts with laughter except for Warnock who has his head bowed*
MON: Oh Steve, don't be so hard on yourself, it's not so bad.
Warnock: Really boss?
*Warnock smiles as tears and snot run toward his grin.*
MON: No! Hoist it aloft boys!
*The lads pull ropes and a large crucifix is erected, Warnock looks at it wide-eyed with terror.*
MON: Playing a left back at left back ... What was I thinking? See if that happens again!
Heskey: I'm just glad there's not a 'no goal' crucifix.
*MON rubs his chin*
MON: Hmmmmm....
........
Later on a hill near Bodymoor Heath....
......
Heskey: .... So I said I've got it Wayne, I'll pass it to you and YOU score. I mean of course once I'd taught him to score he couldn't stop and.....
Warnock: Emile you've been telling your rubbish England story lies for 9 hours solid now as if us hanging from crosses whilst birds peck at and defacate on us isn't punishment enough!
NRC: I don't even know why they hung me up here! Man, talk about 'don't cross the boss'.
*NRC chuckles to himself*
NRC: Get it? 'Cross'
*Heskey and Warnock look across at NRC with narrowed eyes*
NRC: Geez guys, lets not be negative. Some things in life are bad, They can really make you mad.
*Delph wheels up the hill*
Delph: #Petrov told me our hotel was cursed.#
*Cuellar appears a flank of meat in hand*
Cuellar: #When you're chewin' trotter gristle.#
Heskey: #and past the post your shots all whistle.#
*The lads all emerge including MON, joining hands around the crucified three swaying and singing.*
All the Lads: Just remember Villa are the beeeeest and always look on the bright side of life........
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