Scottish Comedy FC has acquired the rights to an upcoming best-seller – “The Secret Assistant Manager” – which will tell you what really happens inside Scottish football.
The author has asked us to keep his identity a secret but he continues to tell it straight from the main man’s mouth, or, technically, straight from the assistant to the main man’s mouth to our correspondent Andy Todd, all about the next chapter of a remarkable 143-year-old story that has spanned the ages.
Bonjour Internet Pals,
Carl Muggleton; Wayne Biggins; Regi Blinker; that defender from Brazil who sounds like a poo; Father Ted; the Leprechaun who stole my lucky charms; Bono; the fit one from The Corrs (not the drummer); Mad Sinead O’Conner; a pint of Guinness; Mrs Brown; Phil the internet bampot who tells fibs about us on his laptop and with the surname I can’t spell – your Bhoys took a hell of a beating!!!
What a game, pals! It was Scottish Cup semi-final weekend and ‘the Greatest Team In History’ was playing They Who Shall Not Be Named – and we got our tactics spot on. Everyone knows that They Who Shall Not Be Named’s boss goes weak at the knees every time he hears a foreign accent so the Boss told the lads to pretend we’re were from a foreign country.
“Do you know any French?” asked the Boss.
“Jus’ the kiss” said the Captain.
“That’ll do!”
The threat of the Captain sticking his tongue down their throats would put them off their game but the Boss also decided it would be better if he got involved too. Before the match he whispered into They Who Shall Not Be Named’s boss’s ear the only French phrase he knew: “God moaning. I shall say theez only wonce! The resist-once have acqo-aired a bum. They are going to ex-plod the whaleway brodge!”
I’m pretty sure that was English but the Boss reassured me he’d heard it on the hit French show ‘Allo Allo’.
Anyways, They Who Shall Not Be Named’s boss was so rattled that he forgot to take off his worse defender until 20 minutes into the game. By that point we had the lead! The Boss had us playing tactics invented by The Chuckle Brothers: ”One-two to me, one-two to you”. We had more passes than Joey Essex on Mastermind. At one point we were camped so long in their half the council demanded planning permission or we’d be moved on. Of course, They Who Shall Not Be Named’s manager didn’t know what to do. He’s only got one formation. Until today, that it is – I hear he’s getting a new one. He’s replacing his 4-5-1 with a P45.
The match was so exciting. We may not have had a shot at their goals from the 27th minute until we scored our second goal but what’s the point of shooting if you’re not going to score? Look at their young winger who shot and missed an open goal. If he wasn’t going to score then he shouldn’t have shot! Then nobody would have laughed at him. What a numpty.
Anywho, back to the match. What an ending that was, pals. The match went to penalties. The Chairman was worried. He’d jetted in for his big derby game and, after watching Chelsea lose to Man City on Saturday, he’d dropped in to see us too.
“What do you mean we need to take a penalty, ma friend? I don’t have ma war chest to pay it!”
Silly Chairman, he didn’t know that we could get football penalties on the pitch too. “Don’t worry,” I said “We can’t lose now. It is our destiny to win the Scottish Cup and return to Europe!”
And I was right. Their last player booted the ball so high I’ve had to call Commander Tim Peake in the International Space Station to ask him to return it. It was so high the match police want it drug tested.
After the game. in an attempt to be nice I tried to shake the hands of They Who Shall Not Be Named’s captain but he just growled, bared his teeth and tried to bite my leg. How rude! Imagine having a Captain who’s just a wild animal?! He wouldn’t last 10 minutes at ‘The Greatest Team in History’.
I tried to tell our Captain what happened but he was too busy chasing a bee with his tongue. Good boy. He knows how important it is to keep running after a game.
Now we’re in the final it important to reassure my pals that we won’t take anything for granted. Even though we’re going to play a team whose very name means “loser” when you look it up in dictionary, even though they’ve lost more cups than Katie Price, even though they’re cursed to never win another trophy, we will take them seriously…
… oh, who am I kidding!
What’s the score on the doors, Jacques Delors? Roll out yer bunting – we’ve won the Scottish Cup and we’re back in Europe!!!!
Yer pal,
The Secret Assistant Finalist
