INTERVIEW WITH - Roy Keane - CHARGE - Assault and drunk and disorderly&ldots;


We were called to the scene, Smugtwats Wine Bar in Manchester at around 11:35pm, on Monday the 17th May&ldots; We arrived to see a security officer with Mr. Keane pinned on the floor with one hand, quietly sipping a cup of coffee in the other with Mr. Keane writhing in vain to escape his clutches. There was a Mr. Cole and a Mr. Giggs present, and 2 small, timid, defenceless, pregnant, disabled women, 1 covered in Guiness, the other with a nasty gash and a cut on her thigh, which was bleeding profusely&ldots; We arrested the accused, and left the bar. As we were leaving, tempers were high and heard quick footsteps behind us and we heard a whooshing sound, that of a punch being thrown behind our heads and turned to find Mr. Cole in a heap on the floor. Anyway, we ignored this, and took Mr. Keane to Manchester Piccadilly Police station where he was interviewed along with his lawyer, Mr. Alex Ferguson from the famous Scottish law firm, Moaning, Bleating, Wining and Whinging PLC&ldots;

Further to this, at 00:05am there was a disturbance in the cell area. Officiers had to be called to restrain a Mr. Schmiechel who was trying to enter the cell where Mr. Keane was being held. Officers overheard the following conversation...

PS - Psst Roy, have these. Fit it in your tooth. Dont tell them anything, and if they get rough bite on it. I got them from my old mates&ldots; They're ace&ldots;

RK - Great, is it another E&ldots;?

PS - Nein, its a cyanide pill&ldots;
[At this point Mr. Schmeichel was frog marched from the building by anti racist officers, only to return later in the sketch for a very, very bad joke&ldots;]


PCW - Interview begins 0100 hours on Tuesday 18th May&ldots; People present Mr. Roy Keane, Mr. Alex Ferguson, PC World and PC Monitor&ldots; Ok, Mr. Keane, what have you got to say for yourself...?

RK [Shouting] - F*** Off, P*** C**** B****&ldots; [Cut short by AF]

AF - He didn't do it&ldots;

PCW - We're dropping the disorderly charge, we've seen him play, that was normal behaviour... but the assualt charge has to be answered&ldots; but how did you know he didn't do it, Sir, you weren't actually there were you&ldots;?

AF - Er&ldots; Well, I was there, but I was just er&ldots; over the other side of the bar in the corner&ldots;

PCW - So why have you got your pyjamas on then&ldots;?

AF - Er, because, it’s all the rage with these youngsters these days, you know, these clubbers, do you like them&ldots;? they're Versace, I got them thrown in free with some suits we bought, they only cost £100,000&ldots;

PCW - Mmmm&ldots;? Anyway let's press on, what are your comments on the incident&ldots;?

RK - Er.... F**** Off, B****** W***** C***&ldots; [Cut short again]

AF - Look, I'm sorry, he doesnt know any other words&ldots; he didn't do it, it's a setup, he wasn't even there&ldots; Ask Giggsy, he saw it all&ldots;

PCM - [taking notes] Giggs, we may try and get in touch with this Giggs, how do you spell that, G - I - I - G - G - S&ldots;?

AF - No there's only one eye in Giggs&ldots;

TIME NOW IS 2:35am&ldots;

[Peter Schmiechel returns and sprints past the window in full kit waving his hand&ldots;]

PS [shouts] Are the public officials responsible for the investigation of violent, sudden or suspicious deaths here yet&ldots;?

PCM - What's he doing here&ldots;?

AF - Oh, he always comes up for late for the Coroners&ldots;

PCW - Ok, let's ignore that unbelievably poor pun, and let's press on, so how do explain the 2 perfectly parallel statements from the 2 victims of this vicious crime&ldots;?

AF - Well, they are obviously very upset, they may well have got their words mixed up, and after all I understand one of them is half deaf and half blind&ldots;

PCW - Well, Sir, to be fair they weren't until Roy punched her tonight&ldots;

AF - Oh, er&ldots; well it's not Roys fault, and anyway she was wearing a grey blouse, it's not an easy colour to see, it was probably an accident, I mean it was an accident, I was there, yeah I remember now&ldots;

PCW - Here, Sir is CCTV of the actual incident, as clear as day... [watching the screen] unprovoked your client got up kicked one woman, punched another square in the face and here you'll see he pours a full pint over another woman, and then pushes her from her wheelchair...

AF - Yeah, well, how do we know that actually is my captain, I mean client...?

PCM - The fact that he pours Guiness from the actual Premiership trophy is a bit of a clue, surely...

AF - I'm not having that, there's two you know... the FA have never liked Roy, he's never been in trouble before...

PCM - I think you'll find that Mr Keane has got away with murder in the past&ldots;

AF - Yeah, er anyway, back to the matter in hand... someone could have cast a perfect replica at great expense, just to get Roy into trouble...

PCW - But Sir, the Black and Red ribbons, the 4 security guards guarding the cup, the rest of the team all behind him egging him on, the 45 or so witnesses... surely you can't still deny it was Mr. Keane...

AF - They could have all been stooges, planted by referees just to get Royzee into trouble, the video evidence is obviously fake... [whispers] look Officers, surely we can sort this quickly, I've got 4 VIP tickets to the final, if you get my drift&ldots;

PCM - Brilliant, that might do it&ldots; are they in the City end&ldots;?

AF - What do you mean, I mean the premium game, you now the one featuring Manchester's favourite sons&ldots;? [Alex in tapping his pocket, winking&ldots;]

PCW - Yeah, I know the play off second leg against Wigan&ldots;

AF - No, the cup final, you know Man U against Newcastle at Wembley, Saturday&ldots;

PCM - Are you taking the piss mate ?, We're from Manchester, what would we want with Cup final tickets&ldots;

AF - Och, yeah, I see&ldots;

[From outside&ldots; there's a knock on the door&ldots;]

Desk Sergeant [whispers] - PC World, can I have a word&ldots; ? Two things. The video has changed, we sent it off to the BskyB labs to print it up, and when it's come back, the women actually attack Mr Keane, it really is very strange... Oh, and there's a Mr. Edwards outside, says he'll pay whatever it takes to sort this out, I said we'd do it for 8 tickets to the play off against Wigan&ldots; and he said he'll just add the cost to next seasons Man United disabled season ticket prices&ldots; brilliant eh&ldots;?

PCM [turning to RK] - Ok, son, you can go now, your free&ldots;

RK - For F***'s sake, No! I'm number 5, Dennis Irwin is three, apart from on Saturday, of course&ldots;

PCM and PCM - Oh just piss off&ldots;

BYVisit Marcus @ arseonline

MANUCafe news

THE SCENE&ldots;

It's The MUFCafe chain's flagship store's grand opening, held for the convenience of their fans in Soho, London, England&ldots; The restaurant itself claims to be free to get into and good value for money, but soon they are to introduce a 'pay per chew' service, but they will get loads of people to spend loads of cash on memberships before they officially announce that&ldots; They also offer a Take-a-'May' service, whereby they offer free delivery within a 450 mile radius of the restaurant&ldots; The menu on the wall offers all kinds of Cordon Red and Black meals on offer&ldots; so let the evening commence&ldots;

Order is called, by Ryan Giggs cracking a fork onto a glass, he misses due to his wonky eye and hit's Teddy Sheringhams head which is, of course equally as effective&ldots; and an announcement will begin proceeding's by Chairman Martin Edwards&ldots; "Ahem&ldots;" he clears his throat&ldots; Everyone is facing the front listening, everyone except Andy Cole that is, who is facing the opposite direction&ldots; Edwards continues&ldots; "Ladies, Gentlemen and Posh Spice&ldots; I'd like to extend a warm handed welcome to everyone tonight, on this big night for Manchester United, and the fans wallet's of course&ldots; We have filled this new restaurant tonight with players, ex-players, fans, and families, it was going to be friends, but obviously none of us have any&ldots; So, tuck in, it's all on us, that's Man Utd plc so enjoy yourselves and don't forget go easy on the Becks&ldots; it was Simeone's fault&ldots;" Everyone sneers in the direction of the Gucci covered freak show, and a couple of bread rolls hit Beckham on the head, he shrugs his shoulders and drags his studs down the table leg... A couple of bread rolls fly out of the window, Andy Cole just shakes his head. Martin Edwards takes a calculator from his jacket and starts to slope off, trying to work out how much this evening will cost the fans&ldots;

Dwight Yorke is sitting together with Andy Cole, and an 18 year old blonde student. The waiter comes over, looking smart in his red blazer and tie, and politely asks Dwight "What can I get you Sir&ldots;?" Dwight looks at his menu once more and replies "What is the Manchester United salad&ldots;?" The waiter looks at the big toothed one, and replies, "It's just an ordinary salad, with Henning Ice-Berg lettuce but in true Man United style, it flops at the end&ldots;", Dwight nods, and the waiter moves around the table, glances at the girl&ldots; "What can I get for you, Miss&ldots;" Andy Cole winces and shuts his eyes tightly&ldots; Dwight Yorke whispers to the waiter&ldots; "He goes a bit funny when he hears the 'M' word, so try not to mention it again&ldots;"

On Sheringham's table, he's sat there on his own of course&ldots; There is no cutlery on his table&ldots; Fergie comes over&ldots; "Ok, Eddie where all the cutlery gone...Come on, put it back&ldots;" Teddy looks disgruntled and stutters..."B-b-b-ut boss, its silverware for my trophy room..." Teddy is nearly in tears when he notices some fried egg on AF's cheek&ldots; "Alex, you've got some egg on your face&ldots;" Alex smirks and says "Och, noo, not again&ldots;"

On the next batch of diners, Dennis Irwin has dropped his starter and his dish is on the floor, whilst trying not to draw attention to himself, he slyly kicks the dish back under table&ldots; Referee David Elleray sprints out of the kitchen and produces a red card&ldots; "What was that for&ldots;?" whinges Irwin&ldots; "How many more times have I got to tell you, kicking the bowl away is a yellow card offence"&ldots;

Zoe Ball, Chris Evans, Mick Hucknall and Andy Gray are amongst the guests on the celebrity table&ldots; Andy Gray, in his Sky / Manchester United blazer is chatting to Chris Evans&ldots; as Chris has only just got into football and doesn't yet understand, Andy is trying to explain what offside is&ldots; "In Manchester United's case, it doesn't really matter anyway, as long as the Ball is stroked forward, the assistant referee is instructed to let them play on as long as it's not too obvious and the Ball is delicately squeezed in somewhere between the two forwards, unless it's Teddy Sheringham&ldots; in which case it's offside&ldots;" Zoe Ball and Dwight Yorke smile at each other knowingly as they both coyly glance to Andy Cole to complete their secretive triangle&ldots; Andy is needless to say, looking in the opposite direction facing the window, with his thumbs up, smiling inanely in the reflection&ldots;

Over to the next table, David Beckham is fawning all over the dribbling, simpering one with the fat podgy legs, who refuses to stop screaming&ldots; (Oh, you're there already!) "C'mon Posh, stop screaming, luv, you'll wake Brooklyn&ldots;" he mumbles&ldots; "I'll have the Beef, please, as long as it's not Argentinean..." mumbles Becks&ldots; "If you're sure Sir, but what about Mad Cow&ldots;?" The waiter asks in concern&ldots; "She'll have the same&ldots;" - "&ldots;and a nice glass of lovely, subtle, French, quality champagne&ldots;" Posh adds&ldots; The waiter, looking good in his crisp green blazer and bow tie writes down her order&ldots; A glass of Wenger 98 for pig nose&ldots; Beckham is talking to the baby now&ldots; "Florida, San Diego, Quebec, and Buenos Aires"&ldots; The waiter looks inquisitively... "Trying to sort out your holiday, Sir&ldots;?" Becks replies... "No, just asking Brooky what we should call her brother or sister, when pig face get's up the stick again&ldots;" The waiter sighs and wanders off, shaking his head in despair&ldots;

Angus Deayton, another celebrity guest asks the waiter for some Old Trafford soup... "Have you got mushroom...?" "Of course not" replies the waiter, "how the fuck do you think we cram 55,000 in for each game...? How about some french stick...?" "Ok, that would be nice..." So, Arsene Wenger jeers over from the Arsenal table, "Why are you supporting that shower... zey are runners up, big nose...!"

Onto Roy Keane's table, now&ldots; Keano, not being the sharpest of cookies, is not too sure of some of the French words&ldots; He asks the waiter what is French for egg&ldots; The waiter looks down his nose patronisingly at the Irish psychopathic murderer, whereby Roy punches the waiter in the stomach&ldots; "Oof&ldots;!" exclaims the waiter, clutching his stomach through his yellow and green quartered blazer&ldots; Roy nods acknowledging the waiter's French&ldots; The waiter enquires to whether Roy will be partaking in the sweet trolley&ldots; "Course I am, have you ever known me to say no to afters&ldots; What have you got&ldots;?" The waiter looks at his menu "We've got some Jaap Stam Roly Poly - it's a bit stodgy, very hard to swallow, but very rich indeed&ldots; we aren't selling many tonight though, it's a bit of a slow mover&ldots;"

Next, there's a table with an ordinary family sat around it&ldots; there is a card with London Evening Standard competition winner&ldots; (think about it) also, there is a Mum and Dad, with an 8 year old boy, sitting there, he appears to be grossly overweight&ldots; Fergie moseys over, and enquires in his usually subtle manner&ldots; "Excuse me son, why have you let yourself become so bleedin' fat&ldots;?" The podgy little fella replies, "They told me to wear this season's shirt, so I put them all on, all 12 of them&ldots;"

Alex calls over the waiter, and nods over to the corner of the room... "I think we've a couple of gate crashers... Get rid of them..." In a couple of minutes there's a bit of a melee, as Jordi Cryuff and David May are ejected, protesting that they are players...

Now we move over to the Schmeichel table. Pete is sitting there in full Nazi regalia, and due to his authoritative appearance they have decided to put him on door duties&ldots; There is someone knocking on the doors&ldots; Fergie shouts over&ldots; "Pete, let 'em in&ldots;" There is a massive shout from the Arsenal guest table&ldots; (where they have champagne bottles upside down in the FA Cup, beer in the Premiership trophy and eating food off of the Charity Shield)&ldots; "You usually do&ldots;!" Much giggling turns into silence&ldots; The waiter comes over to smooth things over&ldots; "What would you like with your steak, Mein Fuhrer&ldots; Chips&ldots;?" Scmheichel looks at the waiter seemingly annoyed&ldots; His wife Eva whispers to the waiter&ldots; "He doesn't like chips, not since Freddie Ljungberg came on at Highbury earlier in the season&ldots;"

Jaap Staam aasks about the Steaak aand kidney pie... The waaiter replies "It comes with aa Graaeme Le Saaux paastry lid, Sir..." (Once again think about it...!)

"Can I have a grilled Beckham sandwich, with some of that Keane mustard, please..." asks a reporter... "Sorry mate, it's off..."

On another table, there seems to be some trouble, the waiter is trying to clear the plates away... "It's mine...!" shouts Steve Bruce, Brian Robson tries to calm him down... "It's ok Stevo, calm down, you'll get to come back... "Waiter is it too late for some sour grapes and humble pie...?" asks another Man U favourite, Paul Ince... "Of course, not Sir..." Ince replies with a wry smile remembering last week and winking to the Arsenal table... "Send some over to Fergie's table then..."

Alex notices that Solskjaer is missing "He was on the bus boss..." someone calls out... The waiter arrives, he sheepishly exclaims... "Sorry Sir, but there's a change to the menu, the Swedish meatballs are off, but we've managed to come up with a rare Norweigan substitute... there are only two left..." continues the waiter, looking at Henning Berg speculatively...

Over to Carrots and ginger beer now as we move to Scholes and Butt's table&ldots; The following conversation ensues&ldots; Nicky Butt: "Can I have some green beans with my steak, please?&ldots;" the waiter replies: "Sorry Sir they're no longer green, they're black beans now&ldots;" Another waiter Butts in&ldots; "Sorry, they're not black now, they are white beans&ldots; and they've gone up in price&ldots;" Butt&ldots; "Ok, white beans will do&ldots;" Waiter: "Nope, sorry again, they are yellow and green now"&ldots; "Ok, look, I'll have Petit pois and French fries&ldots;" says Butt&ldots; "Sorry, Ginge&ldots; your boss said no Petit and no French&ldots; it's Grande Pois and Scottish fries, I'm afraid&ldots;"

Another couple of stars from the past are Brian Robson and Brian Kidd. They wander over to Alex Ferguson, and hand him a platter with 2 forks on it&ldots; "What's this&ldots;?" enquires Fergie&ldots; "That's the 6 points we promised you this week&ldots; - here they are on a plate..." they reply in unison&ldots; At this point the Restaurant Manager comes over and pulls Alex to one side&ldots; "Excuse me, but could you speak to Mr Keane, as he is continually abusing the waiters, sticking two fingers up and mouthing obscenities to them&ldots;" Taggart's face wells up with rage as he replies, without even looking over to Keane to see the situation&ldots; "Well are you surprised&ldots;? Their performance is terrible, they don't see what's going on, and the bookings they have taken have been totally unjustified..." The waiter looks justifiably bemused&ldots;

Time has flown by, and it is already half past one in the morning, although the clock on the wall still says 4:45pm. With the exception of the Nevilles who are asleep in a huddle sucking their thumbs, everyone is drinking shorts (which also come in an attractive ever changing range of colours...) Alex isn't dining, just wining and George Best is necking a small Scotch, Denis law I think his name is... The speaker crackles as the announcer says that it's time for more food, this time curry&ldots; A big tall skinny black fella zips past, looking a bit under the weather in an Arsenal shirt with a 25 on the back&ldots; "Who's that&ldots;?" asks one man&ldots; "Oh, I don't know, someone said something about a dodgy Tikka&ldots;" Everyone looks around wondering why they are serving curry at this time of the night&ldots; The only person to react is Schmeichel who sprints over to the table and helps himself to a huge plateful&ldots; "What's going on there&ldots;?" asks a reporter&ldots; "Oh, that's our goalkeeper, he always comes up for a late Korma&ldots;"

...with a large slice of quality help from the mighty...

Picture the Scene: Man U training ground, East London, ground surrounded by photographers and fans along with Brian Kidd and Brian Robson both armed with notebooks and mobile phones. Alex Ferguson calls the players together to discuss the days training&ldots;

Everyone is limping, holding their faces and groaning in apparent agony&ldots; Fergie begins; he seems to be in a good mood&ldots; "Right boys, firstly you can pack all that up, the Internationals were last week&ldots;" all of the players all straighten up, clear their throats and start limbering up enthusiastically&ldots;

"Right lads who's missing&ldots;?" Dwight Yorke answers&ldots; "Gary and Phil's’ mum rang up. They didn’t do their homework and have had to go to bed early..."

Alex (sighs)&ldots;"Ok, let's move on. Now today were going to concentrate on honing our individual skills&ldots;" Fergie continues&ldots; "Coley first, Coley over here, no over here&ldots;" Cole continues to quickly spin around trying to pinpoint where the voice is coming from&ldots; "No, look, over he- that's it&ldots; I’ve arranged for the local infant school to shoot a video for you to watch. Its called "Ball-Goal", and might help your directional skills, ok of you go&ldots;" Andy sprints off in the opposite direction&ldots; Fergie pipes up&ldots; "Jesus - NO!&ldots; the changing room is that way, Andy&ldots; ANDY!&ldots;" - Andy is pushed in the right direction by Dwight Yorke&ldots; "Sorry boss&ldots;" he mumbles under his breath before tripping and getting caught up in a net bag full of footballs in front of the main building and waves back sheepishly indicating he's ok&ldots;

Alex looks up, back down at his notes and then quickly up again, "Oy, you there... c'mon get back over there with the rest of the fans..." a young lad looks up and tries to speak... "but Alex -" he is rudely cut off, don't try and tell me you play for Manchester United again... "but I do..." "well what's your name this week then...?"... "It's still Cryuff..." replies Jordi with a sigh... Alex chuckles "Look sonny, don't take me for a fool... Johann Cryuff's son is called Jordi, not 'Still' so if you are going to try and pull the wool over my eyes then you'd best remember that..." Alex scoffs... "Oh, fuck it..." says Jordi as he traipses off shaking his head, muttering "...not again..."

Fergie then turns to find the Dane keeper marching all over the pitch with a Hitler type salute, his Hitler moustache has taken a distinct ginger twist and just is not working at all&ldots;"Shmike, I’ve arranged for you to spend the day with the BNP. Apparently they think you have certain attributes they could learn from. Don’t know what league they play in, but they’ve got a fixture arranged with the KKK soon, should be good experience for you&ldots;" Schmiechel does a goose-step style turn before marching back to his convertible, black VW beetle and speeding off&ldots;

He then turns to Beckham who has The Spice Girls blaring out of his Walkman, he is singing appropriately loudly and out of tune; he switches off his Walkman&ldots; CLICK - "Mornin' Alan"&ldots; "Ok, Becky," Alex continues "we’ve fixed you up with the local dancing school for tap lessons. Help you ensure you don’t miss the face when you stamp on Stephen Hughes next year, off you go&ldots;" Beckham clicks his Walkman back on, continues singing badly, turns and does an elaborate leap and forward roll before getting up and trotting off&ldots;

Fergie turns another page on his clipboard&ldots; "Ok, Stammy, you next&ldots; the local tree surgeon is going to look at your mobility and see if we can’t improve your speed. I believe there’s a tortoise involved&ldots; Could take a while so we'll see you next week&ldots;Jaap before you go, what's those melt burns on your shirt&ldots;?" Jaap replies "Oh, sorry boss, that's the friction burns where my Nan ran past me yesterday, I'll get it sorted&ldots;" Stam trundles off of the pitch as the team and Alex watch on&ldots;

Twenty five minutes later&ldots; Fergie, shaking his head, is starting to look annoyed "We can't wait all day, he'll get there soon&ldots; ahem&ldots; Right, you little ginger freak&ldots;!" he bellows&ldots; Paul Scholes, Nicky Butt, Ole Gunnar Solskjaer and David May all step forward&ldots; "Jesus, not you lot - Oh, for fu-"&ldots; "Butts&ldots; the local beauty school thinks they can practice their skills on you, so take off that bag and get over there&ldots; NOW!"&ldots; Butt waits for Alex to turn round and then kicks Solskjaer in the back of the leg before running off shrugging&ldots; "What&ldots;? What&ldots;?" he enquires, as he trudges off, dragging his feet, with his head bowed&ldots;

"Right, Ollie&ldots;" he now turns to Ole Solksjaer&ldots; "Your teachers been on the phone, you've been bunking off again, you really are going to have to start going back to school&ldots; anyway it's too late to go back today, leave it 'til tomorrow, go get that middle name of yours changed, get home to your Mum. Then, have an early night, do your paper round and come back tomorrow&ldots; go on, you little scamp&ldots;" Ollie punches the air with his fist "YESSSS!" puts his baseball cap on (backwards of course) and jumps onto to his BMX and starts pulling away doing wheelies&ldots; "Whoo-hoo!" he cries&ldots;

Alex now pops in a chewing gum and looks at who's next on his clipboard&ldots; "Right&ldots;" he then sighs deeply and mumbles, shaking his head "Och nooo&ldots;." He turns to Teddy, who's stood at the back&ldots; "Teddy&ldots; what I want you to&ldots;" He stops and notices Teddy is wearing jewellery&ldots;. "Is that a necklace&ldots;?" Teddy steps forward&ldots; "Yes boss&ldots;" Alex shouts again&ldots; "Where did you get that medal on the end of it, did you steal it from my office again&ldots;?"&ldots; Teddy sheepishly replies&ldots; "No, it's mine boss&ldots; it’s my lucky Charity Shield losers medal, I've worn it a few times this year, Arsenal away, Boro at home and Sheffield Wednesday away&ldots;" Alex scowls and frowns&ldots; "Anyway, Sherry, you’ve been allocated trophy room duty today – its empty at present, but you’re used to that&ldots;. get it cleaned and then go and clean Sir Matthew's European cup again&ldots; ask the cleaning lady how to clean it if you're not sure&ldots;" Teddy runs off, kissing his medal clapping the air while turning round and cheering&ldots;

"Ok, who's next&ldots;?" Alex is now getting very upset&ldots; "Giggsy&ldots;" Giggs turns and face his Manager&ldots; "Yes, boss&ldots;" Alex gets redder&ldots; "Look at me when I am talking to you&ldots;" Giggs starts to utter&ldots; "But Boss I am looking a- " he is cut short&ldots; "Shut it, Giggsy, it's Welsh geography for you today – things like where Wales is, who their manager is, that sort of thing&ldots; you will learn new things&ldots; now off you go&ldots;" Giggs starts to run off with a ball at his feet. Unfortunately no one sees him take the ball around eight reserve players, seven photographers, three players wives, Jaap Stam who's still walking off and the cardboard wall before slamming the ball into the roof of the training goal&ldots; "Yessss&ldots;" he quietly mutters to himself&ldots;

Alex looks up from his clipboard&ldots; "Right now, Keano, it's your turn, we are going to send you to language lessons. The board feel you aren't expressing yourself fully&ldots; then get yourself to the psychiatrist, he's got some anger management lessons for you, it should last for about 60 sessions, get that out of the way and then you can move on to the beginner classes&ldots; NOW!"&ldots; Alex really is losing his rag&ldots; He and Steve McLaren huddle together away from the main group, Alex spits out his gum and pops another&ldots;

Alex screams, now furious "Yorkey&ldots;" he begins, Yorke is looking sullen, "What was that miss all about against Leeds on Sunday&ldots;?" Yorke looks up&ldots; "thir, thee, I tho thtrived to thomewhat thatisfy my thtrong dethire to thcoop the Player of the theason&ldots;" at this point everyone puts their hoods up as saliva flies off in all directions from Dwights teeth&ldots; "And when I thaw Franthe v. Bulgaria World Cup qualifier the other day, that Daveed Ginola mithed one exactly the thame, tho I jutht thought&ldots;" Alex interrupts&ldots; "Oh, I see, well I'm sending you to the local farmer, he's got a barn door which you can practise against, and after that&ldots; for Busby's sake get to the dentists&ldots; Jesus&ldots;"

Alex then checks the notes on his clipboard and continues&ldots; "Ok, that's that lot sorted, right the rest of you, give me 50 press ups and then 3 laps of the pitch, we'll get us a game going&ldots;" At this point one of the youngsters exclaims&ldots; "But, boss I'm up before the FA today for trying to shoot Arsene Wenger like you told me to, and you said training would be finished at 3&ldots;" Alex looks at his stopwatch, it says 3:20, "My watch says 5 to, now go&ldots; Right Steve, you can take it from here, I’m off to make up some more excuses and practice scowling and looking aggrieved ready for May 16th&ldots;"

FIN&ldots; superbly penned I thought by... Visit Marcus @ arseonline



This is the year, to cheat, lie and whinge&ldots;
Oxford, Surrey and Dublin, we all want the same fings&ldots;
If you buy ten shirts, we'll try and win you a cup&ldots;
On your telly in Essex and Devon, you'll see us f*ck up&ldots;

Assuming we win something, the only limit is Sky&ldots;
Through the egg on our face and the humble pie&ldots;
It's all about hoping we can actually win a cup this year&ldots;
Beckhams pig nosed bird, miserable cow, bereft of cheer&ldots;

With our plastic fans from all over the place&ldots;
Hope to see Giggs wooky eyes fall back into his face&ldots;
We've got a dutch donkey at'back, a Nazi in goal&ldots;
Who's that twat lord missing, must be Andy Cole&ldots;

The Brothers Grim in defence, they bring us no joy&ldots;
We've also got a Norway paper boy&ldots;
With Butt and Scholes the 2 ginger beers&ldots;
We didn't win the league for twenty six years&ldots;

We keep expanding, the more cash the better&ldots;
Dwights teeth are enormous, he's our only goal getter&ldots;
Our whining Jock manager always chewing gum...
And tosspice Roy Keane lives in an asylum&ldots;

This could be the team, we beat Arsenal at last&ldots;
We've won nowt yet, but we need to win a cup fast&ldots;
With Teddy in the team, we are surely cursed&ldots;
Silverware won't come 'til he goes back to Spurs&ldots;

Repeat chorus&ldots;
Assuming we win something, the only limit is Sky&ldots;
Through the egg on our face and the humble pie&ldots;
It's all about hoping we can actually win a cup this year&ldots;
Beckhams pig nosed bird, miserable cow, bereft of cheer&ldots;

Perleeeaaasseee let this be our year&ldots; Pray, pray&ldots;

FIN... Visit Marcus @ arseonline

All items shamelessly stolen from Visit Marcus @ arseonline the Author and really cliver blerk behind Arseonline, the best Independent website .... Bar Riksplace on the internet . He seems to hate Man U almost as much as I do.