Press Release due.

Wibble FC Chairman, Mr Alan Van Allen sits in his office reading a baby names book. There is a knock at the door, in enters the manager.

CHAIRMAN: Eh up nar then thee, lad.
MANAGER: Wot? Ah dinna ken what ya seed.
CHAIRMAN: Speak English lad, you're abroad now. When in Rome, and all that.
MANAGER: Thankye for the advice, Sir. What was it that ye wanted to speak to ma'sel aboot?
CHAIRMAN: Popularity!
MANAGER: I see.
CHAIRMAN: It's important in this game to be popular with the fans.
MANAGER: Aye, I would expect that performances on the pitch would see to that.

The Chairman coughs.
MANAGER: Sir.
CHAIRMAN: Can I ask you a question?
MANAGER: Certainly, sir.
CHAIRMAN: What would you think might be more important than your popularity?
The manager pauses for a while, thinking.

MANAGER: Well, perfomances. Erm, results, erm...

The phone rings and the Chairman answers.
CHAIRMAN: Mr Mayor? What-the-fooks thar want thee?

The manager takes out a notepad and starts writing.
CHAIRMAN: Nodding, It's planning permission that I need. Aye, for a Chip Shop at Wibble FC.
CHAIRMAN: Yes, I know that AFC Wibble are planning a similar project. Are you aware that their proposed site is up the road from my house? It'll send my fookin wippets barmy!
CHAIRMAN: What dya mean, their planning permission has been granted?
Chairman looks angry, then slams the phone down.

MANAGER: I've taken some wee norts, sir.
The Chairman holds a finger to the air, signalling a pause. He picks the phone back up and dials.
CHAIRMAN: Nar then, Jim. Get me some fooking AFC Wibble shares bought.
He slams the phone back down.

MANAGER: With a finger in the air. I had a wee ponder, sir. And I think that what you are getting at is that our style of play needs to be more
entertaining.
CHAIRMAN: What was the question, lad?
MANAGER: You were talking about my popularity.
CHAIRMAN: Was I fook-as-like! I said, what was more important than your popularity?
MANAGER: Aye, I see.
CHAIRMAN: And the answer is, MY POPULARITY! Get working on it, lad.
The manager turns to leave but is called back.

CHAIRMAN: What dya reckon to Jean, as a name?

The manager looks at the baby names book in the chairmans hand.
MANAGER: Boy or girl?
CHAIRMAN: What's it matter? It's for a fookin wippet!

© Copyright 2004 Harry Parry All rights reserved. No part of this nonsense may be reproduced for profit without written permission from the author.