A KNOCK at the door announced the manager’s two o’clock meeting. Brief fumbling at the knob was followed by the entrance of the team’s star striker.
“Hello, Andy. Please take a seat. Have a mince pie,” said the Headless Chickens manager from behind his desk.
The lofty striker approached the chair eyeing the plate of Mr Kipling’s on the desk. Sitting down, he picked up one of the pies, sniffed it gingerly and wolfed it down.
“Andy, I’ve asked you in today to talk about your performances,” said the manager. “Remember at the start of the season…”
“Andy did a goal!” Interrupted the striker, banging his fists on the arm rests, wild excitement in his eyes.
“Yes, back at the start of the season Andy ‘did a goal'” conceded the Chickens manager. “But the problem is that Andy hasn’t scored many goals since then.”
The striker looked at the floor with sorrowful eyes and then meekly up at his manager.
“Well, we’re really here about a serious matter but…oh, alright then, but only because it’s Christmas,” the manager produced a banana from a drawer and threw it at the striker, who greedily unpeeled and ate it. The procedure demeaned them both, but the Chickens target man was always calmed by the yellow fruit and the manager had just had new carpets fitted.
“Now, Andy, remember those days when you first played in the Kenna?” said the manager.
“Andy did a goal! Andy did a goal! Andy did a goal!” Screamed the striker over and over again, jumping up and down on the chair and beating his fists on his chest.
After congratulating himself for not offering the glass of sherry the season’s custom had supplied his other visitors that day, the manager stood and tried to calm his player down, as always having to fall back on the usual ultimatum: “Look Andy, if you don’t stop this now, you’ll have to stay at Uncle Kevin’s house again!”
The effect was immediate. Andy stopped dry humping the cocktail cabinet and returned to his seat.
“Now Andy, unless you start producing the goods (no, put that away!) I’ve got no alternative than to put you on the transfer list for February’s window, and you know what that means.”
The striker nodded slowly. Everyone knew what it meant but the manager wanted to make his point.
“It means you’ll end up playing for some relegation-doomed outfit like Woking or Vasco De Beauvoir when everyone’s scratching around for players at the end of the transfer night. And do you think the managers there will give you bananas? So, you’re going to start ‘doing’ goals and you’re going to start ‘doing’ goals good.
“Now onto brighter things. It’s the club Christmas party tonight. By the way, what was your last club’s Christmas party like?”
The striker grinned: “Andy did a hole!”
|1||FC Testicluadew||James N||41||2|
|4||Sporting Lesbian||Ben M||36||2|
|9||Still Don’t Know Yet||Pete||26||1|
|10||Vasco De Beauvoir||Stix||25||2|
|11||Just put Carles||Carles||25||1|
|12||Judean Peoples’ Front||Sholto||25||0|
|13||PSV Mornington||El Pons||21||0|
|16||Headless Chickens||John N||18||0|
|17||Lokomotiv Leeds||Ben S||14||1|
|18||Wandsworth Window Lickers||Will||14||0|
|Player of the week||13||Gerrard, S – LIV – MID|
|Club||Still Don’t Know Yet|