Date: 21st January 2010 at 12:20pm
Written by:

*The victorious Villa lads are celebrating wildly, MON is doing a dance and drinking champagne from the bottle, he’s wearing a tie around his head*

MON: Ho, ho it’s been a while since I’ve done my Wembley jig!

*MON throws his arms around Heskey and Agbonlahor*

MON: You two guys, you’re the best striker pairing since records began!

Heskey: After West Ham you said we were ‘Half-witted eejit’s who couldn’t score with a craft knife’

MON: What!? Me!? Noooo never!

Gabby: You just repeated it at half time!

MON: Well things are different now! Emile, I mean beating the back line and masterfully rounding the keeper in a one-on-one to finish from an acute angle … It’s what you’re all about!

*Heskey nods proudly in agreement’

MON: and Gabby, well no-one gets in the way of our shots and claims them quite like you.

*Gabby looks pleased*

MON: And where’s my defence? My lovely defence?

*The players tentatively raise their hands*

MON: Best defensive display I’ve ever seen.

Dunne: But we conceeded four goals bass! I think that ….

Warnock, Collins & Cuellar: Ssssssssh!!!

Milner: Boss, is that my man of the match champeern like?

MON: Yes James my boy it is, you see in many ways I was the man of the match, I kicked every ball out there tonight.

Milner: Aye but ya dinnae really kick a ball though did ya like?

MON: Oh didn’t I James?

Milner: No.

MON: Oh, but Didn’t I?

Milner: No!

*Milner wrestles the champagne away from MON, Sam Allardyce sticks his head around the door*

Big Sam: ‘allo everywun, I say ‘allo everywun.

MON: Hello Allardyce you miserable, bitter, sore loser.

Big Sam: Well I was gonna ask, I say I was gonna ask where my tie was but I see you have it strapped to your head!

MON: That’s right Allardyce we won the match and your tie so shoo up back up to Blackburn and take your band of thugs with you.

*The Villa Dressing Room Cheers, Carew and NRC enter …. Singing*


Carew: (with bandaged knee): I’ve just been at, a club, with girls.

NRC: I asked my agent, where will I be?

Milner: With so much running, I have a stitch.

MON: I’ve drunk so much I can’t see!

All the Lads (swaying and singing): Que Sera Sera, whatever will be, will be! We’re going to Wemb-er-ly! Que Sera Sera!