WATCHING the club’s star striker enter the building from his office window, the manager’s nerves tensed.
Another setback for his team‘s title hopes.
Yet another reminder of just how punishing this league could be.
Nursing the dregs of a Lemon Fanta in his hand, he returned to his desk to wait for his player.
‘Enter,’ he said when the knock on the door came.
Remorse was all over the striker’s face like egg.
‘On my kids’ lives boss, I swear I’ll not get caught again,’ he simpered, hands pressed together, eyebrows on his turnip head pushed up.
Over the next week the whole club would be talking about what the manager said next.
Never one to shy from gossip, his personal assistant, everyone agreed, gave the best account.
‘Enough!’ the manager threw the Fanta can at his player’s head, or at least that what it sounded like from the other side of the door. ‘I’m only in my second season in the world’s leading London pub-based fantasy football league and I’m already surrounded by pillocks like you undoing all my best efforts to stay in it. I don’t need your snivelling, I need a striker scoring goals, because at the August auction I got drunk and signed Peter Crouch. I already had Xhedran Shaqiri. That’s two Stoke players. Illegal. Bloody illegal. They took Crouch off me and gave me his bloody wife. His wife! Yes, I’ll admit she’s good for morale in the changing rooms, but everything’s getting slotted except the opposition goal. Furthermore, I bought Xhedran Shaqiri last season so the more I think about it the more it dawns it was an absolute dick move by me. There’s a transfer window on Friday 6 October starting from 6.30 to 7pm (earlier for drinks) where I should be improving my first eleven, but I’m dogged by the memory last year of inadvertently doing a cash-plus deal of Manuel Lanzini and £4m for Stewart Downing. You can guess how that turned out. I haven’t been to a transfer window since. I just sit in here drinking cans of Fanta and wondering why I thought £18m was a good deal for Jamie Vardy. Right now I’m 9th, but this time last year I was 8th and then ended in 15th. So get that bloody rear light fixed on your Volkswagen Beetle – what the hell are you doing driving a Beetle, anyway? – do your community service and start scoring some bloody goals.’
‘Yes, boss,’ said the striker and backed out the room.
Kenna table week 5
Full scores available from The Rub.
