Date: 7th November 2009 at 10:58am
Written by:

*We join the Villa boys preparing for Bolton*

MON: Now where’s Isaiah with my Earl Grey?

Salifou (through tears): You sent him to Middlesbrough on loan boss.

MON: Ah yes, here’s hoping he gets enough experience on their bench to improve his posture, it was getting terrible. OK lads, tough time out last match, we have to be wary Bolton have been playing some clever, entertaining football as of late.

*The Dressing Room erupts with laughter*

MON: Joking aside, Bolton are a physical team. So I’ve gathered some pictures to incite a rage to match theirs.

*MON walks towards a notice board with three covered pictures, he uncovers the first, it’s a picture of Peter Kay, many of the lads laugh*

MON: Don’t laugh! I want rage!

Young: We can’t help it boss, everyone loves Peter Kay, he’s a national icon.

*Sidwell is seething*

Sidwell: I don’t love him boss, I hate him … Grr!

MON: That’s more like it Steven, everyone take Steven’s example.

Young: But he’s always angry at everyone.

*Sidwell turns to Young and sneers whilst growling*

MON: That’s what we need, fire, passion … And next ….

*MON uncovers the next picture, it’s a Yorkshire Pudding. The lads look confused, some look hungry, Delph raises his hand*

MON: Fabian?

Delph: Boss, I’m pretty sure that Bolton’s in Lancashire.

MON: Same thing Fabian, same thing.

Young: Again boss, everyone loves a yorkie pud, I could eat one now. with grav….

Sidwell: I hate Yorkshire pudding, if there was one here I’d kick it.

Young: Not even with a Sunday Dinn….?

Sidwell: I’d kick it! I’d break it’s legs.

Young: Steve, Yorkshire puddings don’t have legs.

Sidwell: Not after I’d finished with them they wouldn’t!

MON: Right then, you’re not all as enraged as I thought you’d be so here is the final picture.

*MON reveals the picture, it’s Vernon Kay with a large grin and shiny suit. The lads go ballistic snarling and yelling, NRC leaps from his chair, tears the picture down with his teeth and shakes it like a rabid dog*

MON: Now that’s more like it.

*The lads are fighting over who gets to stamp on the picture, Sidwell appears to be in complete bliss at this scene*

MON: Now we’re ready for Bolton, now who wants a red card … I mean to play right back?

*All the lads raise their hands including Friedel and Guzan*

MON: Yes, now we’re ready.

Hercs

————

MON: right then, *lowers glasses* Cueller back at the back *ticks box* hmmm….Warnock’s a bit sore, mite rest him……who to plaaaaaaaaayyy *scratches chin*

Shorey coughs

mon: ahhh Nicky

ns: yes boss?!?!?

mon: 2 sugars please *winks*

ns: o…..ok

mon: bouuuuuuumaaaaaaaaaa!

wb: yes!!!!!?????

mon: what times the dancing on tomorrow night?

wb: erm, don’t know…..

mon: o thanks *mutters* cant get the staff these days

wb: huh?

mon: nothing……right, who we got then…………*spins chair and stares at Luke Young*

*squad all look at young*

mon: Lukey ma’boy………

young: ah for f*** sake!!!!!!!!!!!!

Benham




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