Date: 30th March 2010 at 4:09pm
Written by:

*We join the lads, heads hung low and glum after their heavy defeat against Chelsea, MON jovially enters whistling as he gets to the front of the room*

MON: Great stuff lads, brilliant, that went exactly as we’d planned.

*MON puts his hands on his hips, throws his head back and bursts out laughing maniacally.*

A.Young (whispering): This is terrible, we’ve sent him mad.

*A number of the lads fearfully nod*

MON: Excellent, I’m just glad you all got the memo.

Collins: Memo?

Carew: What memo?

MON: Very good you two, the memo, you know.

*MON shuffles the cursor on his laptop and it jumps into life, he clicks on his sent e-mails*

MON: Here we go. ‘Lets leave it to Chelsea lads, lure them into a false sense of security then strike in the F.A Cup semi-final’ and might I say lads you executed the plan beautifully.

A.Young: Boss, I didn’t get your e-mail.

*MON chuckles*

MON: Good one Ashley, you said you went to check you’re e-mails a few minutes before the match, I saw you get your laptop you little scamp.

A.Young: Yeah …. um ….. e-mails.

MON: And like I said before kick-off, ‘everyone don’t forget to check out your e-mails’.

Carew: E-mails? I thought you said check out the females.

Gabby: Yeah me too.

MON: Fema…? Why would I …? So None of you got the memo? You just … Lost?

Dunne: Aye bass, every goal was like a dagger to me backside.

MON: Don’t you mean your heart?

Collins: Steady on boss, his heart’s not that big.

*MON flips to a foul, four-letter word tirade which lasts for 40 minutes*

A.Young: Please boss, calm down, I don’t think the last few sentances you yelled even made sense.

MON: Pound sign! Percentage! Asterix! Exclamation mark!

*MON Collapses in an exausted heap. He lays on his side heavy breathing like a dying animal*

Warnock: Boss….. Are you … OK?

*MON raises a weak arm*

MON: Confound you to Hades!

*Carew and Gabby scan the room*

Carew: What ladies?