*We join the lads unhappy with a poor result and worse season*
Albrighton: Well. It could have been worse. At least we got through the season.
Bannan: Um…..Well most of us did.
*Bannan pokes a motionless Darren Bent who is lying in the middle of the dressing room with a stick, flies are buzzing around him*
Bannan: Poor guy, died of boredom.
Bent: What I’m not dead! … Just bored!
Albrighton: … and the flies?
Bent: I’m top-tailing with Emile, he’s stinking up the place as usual.
*Heskey is still snoring and talking to himself in his sleep*
Heskey: ‘and it’s Heskey…. Heskey… HESKEY!!!! Oh. It’s gone for a throw’.
Heskey pops to a sitting position, snorts and stretches*
Heskey: Oh hi guys. I was just having a wonderful dream where I was scoring loads of goals. They were definitely all going in.
*the lads are looking at Heskey with scepticism.*
Heskey: What? They were. Every shot.
McLeish: Well lads, next season we’ll definitely do better eh? Not tha’ this season went that badly of course.
*the dressing room erupts with laughter*
McLeish: What? What is funny? Like I said, next season we …
*the lads erupt with laughter again*
McLeish: What? Are some of yez leaving or somethin’? I mean Carlos and Emile I know but… Is there some mass exodus?
Ireland: Oh no boss, we’re not going anywhere?
*McLeish gasps with horror*
McLeish: You think I am going to be sacked!? I think not. Who steered us out of relegation!?
Albrighton: … The Baggies?
McLeish: What!? No … Me. Alex McLeish. It’s my second ever highest Premier League finish, they’ll be dancing on the streets of Aston!
Ireland: Not just yet they won’t….
Mcleish: There’s no reason to sack me, they’ll back me! Back me I tell you.
Ireland: Aye, back you off a cliff, in a SACK!
*the dressing room erupts with laughter*
Gabby: To be fair boss you are the worst manager since 1890-91 where we also only had 7 wins but that was in a 12 team league so …..
McLeish: 12 teams!? Barely gives you the opportunity to draw enough to make up for your losses does it? Look lads, anyone worried that I’m getting sacked needn’t worry.
Hutton: Oh thank God!
*the lads all turn to stare at Hutton*
McLeish: I’m unsackable, totally unsackable.
*Faulkner knocks the door enters and hands McLeish a letter*
McLeish: ‘Dear Lex, Please see me in my office on Monday wearing the attire provided for you by Mr.Falconboy’
*McLeish looks at Faulkner who holds out a rope potato sack, McLeish takes the sack flaps it out and reads the text printed on it*
McLeish: ‘I’ve just been ‘SACKED’ by Randy Lerner!’?
*McLeish looks at Faulkner who shrugs*
Faulkner: American humour.
McLeish: Oh, a joke? So I don`t have to wear this and I`m not sacked.
*McLeish looks at Faulkner hopefully holding the sack back toward him. Faulkner maintains a stern look pushing McLeish`s hand with the sack back to his chest, turns and leaves. Ireland gives McLeish an ‘I told you so’ look*
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