Ready To Go : Oriental Mackem

Wilko and Out?

Harsh words were spoken in the boardroom after the Southampton defeat, reveals Major Major, in a Chinese New Year mood.

Scene. safc boardroom after Southampton match.present are Murray, Fickling, Wilko.

Murray: Hello, Howard, sit down lad. Bad luck tonight.

Wilko: Yes, with a bit of luck we would have won easily.

Fickling: Are you both mad? Did you hear the boos? That was the worst performance this season, and that's saying something. What are we going to do about it?

Wilko: Well, I'm going to take the lads on a 20 mile run tomorrow morning, to get the stiffness out of their legs. Got to sort the men out from the boys. That McCann, he can run all day!

Fickling: But he canna pass the ball, man!

Wilko: You need all sorts of qualities in a team, Mr Fickling.

Murray: Yes, I think we can all see that you're on the right lines, Howard. Chocolate biscuit? Do you want to sign any new players before the deadline,
Howard? There's a few thousand left in the kitty for a couple of loan players. What about that kid from Woking that we were watching?

Wilko: A good player, Mr Chairman, but I'm happy with what I've got. Not many clubs can boast a midfield like Thirlwell, McCann, Kilbane and Oster. Don't forget we have McAteer to come back soon too. The future is bright!

Fickling: Are you both mad? The future is the Nationwide unless we do something about it! Howard, I've persuaded the bank to give us a further 10 million overdraft. Gan and spend it before Saturday! 2 midfield players, one forward, and a bloody centre half to replace bloody Babb!

Wilko: Well that's very kind of you, Mr Fickling, sir, but unnecessary. The current squad are good enough. Just a bit unfit that's all, a few cross-country runs and they'll be alright.

Murray: That's the spirit, Howard! Throwing my money.er.the club's money. at the team never helped anyone. Rome wasn't built in a day.

Fickling: No, but Nero fiddled while it burnt! Relegation will finish us, man! We'll be the new Derby, or even Sheffield Wednesday! All the best players will leave the club!

Murray: Aha, that's where you're wrong, John. I was speaking to Kilbane, Oster, Babb and Gray just last week and they promised to stay with the club if we went down. Such loyalty.

Fickling (red in face): But.but (spluttering).of course they'll say that, they're the worst players in the club! Nobody else will buy the fuckers!

Wilko: Come now, Mr Fickling, these lads are all international players, that' s what we want at Sunderland, isn't it?

Fickling: But look at the attendance figures! 34,000 tonight! And we had to give half of them away! No wonder we have no money. The fans are not stupid, gentlemen. They know we are dire. I repeat, what are we going to do about it?

Murray: Don't worry John. I've ordered some gold-plated taps for the Academy, and lavish bath towels
for the players so they can rub themselves down afterwards. Highly trained animals, professional footballers, don't want them getting cold.

Fickling: I'm warning you now. No fresh players, and we go down, and may never recover. Surely you can see that?

Murray (smiles): Come off it John, we'll be challenging for promotion next season, scoring goals, play-offs at least. The fans will be back.

Fickling: I wouldn't bet on it. How many times will you have taken us down?

Murray: Er. five I believe, counting this one.

Fickling: And you're not ashamed of this?

Murray: I think you will find I saved the club in 1987. I'll do it again.

Wilko: I think you'll find that we'll be challenging for Europe next season, Mr Chairman.

Murray: Jolly good, Howard.

(Fickling is tearing his hair out)

Fickling: You.you both live in a dreamworld! We cannot score a fucking goal, man!

Wilko: I will admit that our goalscoring recod is not particularly good, but give me time, give me time.

Fickling: Bob, I want this goon sacked.

Murray: Haway now, John, you know what a mess Reidy left us in.

Fickling (glowering): I thought you said if Reidy ever left, you'd go too.

Murray: I never said that, I was misquoted.

Wilko: Don't worry, gentlemen, I've got something up my sleeve to surprise Charlton on Saturday.

Murray (triumphantly): I knew you would, Howard! See, John, this is the type of man I appoint, a thinking man, hundreds of coaching badges.

Wilko: Yes. I'm gonna play a front two of Kyle and Kilbane.

(Fickling makes gurgling noises)

Murray: Er...yes, John smashing idea, you know best. But don't you think Kyle is a bit...limited?

Wilko: He's a current Scottish international, Mr. Chairman, and very underrated. Reminds me a bit of that frog I let go to Man Utd a few years ago.

Fickling (astonished): Kyle reminds you of Eric Cantona?

Wilko: Oh yes. More committed, of course. Cantona was a waste of space sometimes.

Fickling (roars): You silly bugger! We've got the worst team here in bloody years and you think Kyle is the image of Cantona? My God! Look, take the 10 million. Please, sign someone before Saturday, please!

Wilko: If you insist. David Seaman's lost his place at Arsenal, thought we might bid for him.

Fickling (screams) : But he's a fuckin' goalkeeper! We've got three hundred of them!

Wilko (smugly): You may think so. But what happens if they all get injured? I'm talking about England's number one here. Can we afford to miss him?

Murray: Er...well, Howard, perhaps John has a point here. We are a teeny weeny bit short in the goal output this season.

Wilko: Are you questioning my tactics, Mr Chairman? Do you know how many badges I've got?

Murray (hastily): Oh no, Howard, we all know you're the best around. Just thought perhaps we were slightly overloaded in the goalie stakes myself, like. I'm probably wrong though.

Wilko: Right, I've had enough. I quit! You can get another manager to sort out this talentless bunch. I'm off. And I want payment of my contract in full!

Fickling: Fat chance, sonny jim.

(Wilko leaves)

Fickling: Well, he was a twat, Bob, but he's left us in the shit. What shall we do?

Murray: Don't worry, John. I've had this in mind for a while. And I've contacted perhaps the best football brain in Britain, someone who has the respect of all players, is well-liked by managers, and has a deep affection for safc.

Fickling: Who?

Murray: Me

Fickling: Oh my God!

(Ficking faints. Bob Murray takes over and guides safc to bottom place in the Premier, some 10 points behind West Brom. Murray appoints Malcolm Crosby for the promotion campaign. After 10 games, and the lads 10 points behind 23rd place, Crosby is sacked).

Murray: It's a funny old game.