The hastily assembled press conference had convened. The 'gentlemen' of the press shuffled their notepads, their freshly sharpened pencils poised. Club owner Don Diego Del La Vega took the floor. "Hola Amigos! It is with the greatest of pleasure I present to you el new signings - as a result of a unique United Nations peace keeping initiative
suggested by Sven Goran Erikson and that dodgy Signorita he kicks about with- I give you.....
Yasser Arafat and Ariel Sharon!!!!!"
The two, mutually despising, world leaders sauntered down the aisle. Arafat took the microphone. Pausing only to adjust he head wear, he said: "Thank you my friends. I think I can guarantee that the opposition will be driven into the sea until they are destroyed utterly!" Sharon stepped up barely looking Atafat in the eye. he mumbled into the microphone: "The accursed dog of Arab lies is right. I will not rest until the perpetrators of dodgy offside decisions lie entangled in their own entrails!"
"Cheats! Feckin divin cheats!" A low voice was heard above the chatter of the press scrum. "Christian!, Christian!", cried Yasser Arafat: "Faithless son of a diseased camel!!" Tariq Aziz, the until recently second in command of Saddam Hussein's Iraq, stepped forward: "I may be a well known Christian in a predominately Muslim nation but you two are a cheating disgrace to Middle Eastern football! I only apologise to any children who may have been watching" Sharon rumbled: "How dare you! I will have you liquidated"
"Stop this at once!", A familiar voice rang out "That, my genocidal friends, is MY job!" Richard Littlejohn floated above the crowd. "Behold my powers and tremble" said the spectral tosser. An arc of light sprang from his fingertips and, in an instant, Tariq Aziz fell down stone dead. The crowd were dumbstruck and were slowly edging to the door, hoping that Littlejohn would not pick them next. Littlejohn continued: "I will return. AND YOU WILL ALL DIE!!!!" With that the multi-dimensional masturbator vanished into thin air.
Alex Docherty lay on the Shyboy Excelsior turf whimpering and beating his fists on the grass: "Not Again!!. Why does this keep happening?!!" He wailed. A familiar canine voice sounded in his ear: "Awright Docherty? Ya mental pr1ck" Docherty raised his head. "Scooby? Is that you?" Docherty said, his face breaking into a lunatic grin: "I've missed you boy!" The hallucinatory cartoon dog replied: "Shut it zoomer. Or I'll feck you like I fecked that Daphne. Doggy style. Understand?" This made Docherty sit up and pay attention: "I understand Scoob. Can we go to the spooky funfair now?" Hawkeye the Noo approached: "Heap big trouble. Boss man mental again. Me call men with butterfly nets?" said the Linwood born Redskin. "Not yet Hawkeye. I know the pain of incarceration in a mental institute" A mystery voice spoke. "In da name of de Holy Vorgin" said Mickey Finn "It's Frank McAvennie!!"
"It is indeed Mickey" the gallus ex-loonie replied "And I have returned to the game I love a changed man after years in mental turmoil" The players looked down at the pitiful figure on the ground making mud pies and muttering about Scooby Snacks. Why he was singing a track by the Fun Loving Criminals nobody was too sure. "Let me look after this man. I can cure him" McAvennie said, a strange glint in his eye. "Very well most excellent friend" replied Alan McInally, his loin cloth stained from his efforts "But shag him do not" Macca said: "As I said, I'm a changed man. No more Page Three girls for me. I've been in prison for years" He began to drag the babbling figure of Alex Docherty towards his battered white van. "Eh, so can oi go to Spain or what" Mickey Finn said.
Finegan Swake lolled on his chaise-lounge in his west end bed sit writing in a velour pad "Oh Adidas, Oh Adidas. You know you make my heart beatsofast. - Oh what's the use" He screwed up the piece of paper and threw it at the bin. "She'll never love me" The door buzzer rang. "Yes?" said Finegan. "It's me Finegan" A voice crackled "It's Adidas. And even though I'm your half sister, I think I love you. In a non half-sister way!"
Phil McCavity, the stereotypically gay, groin injury obsessed, club physio was watching TV's. A thump was heard upstairs. "Hello?" The queer quack said "Who's there? I've got a big stick and I'm not afraid to use it" He moved into the hall way as a figure ran down the stairs; it's clothing covered in white heather and clothes pegs, a video camera and a tube of lubricant tucked under it's arm. McCavity lashed out with a vast rubber dildo and the tarot dealing burglar collapsed at his feet. "Oh my God!" McCavity cried "I've got a big stiffy in my hall!" A tannoy was heard in the night as flashing lights lit the narrow hallway.
"COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP. YOU ARE UNDER ARREST FOR MURDERING AN INNOCENT GYPSY. YOU EVIL BASTRD!! YOU'RE GOING TO THE CHAIR!!!!"
Will Mickey Finn get his dream move to Real Sociopath? What are Frank McAvennies motives for his care for Alex Docherty? Is Phil McCavity the new Tony Martin? Will Littlejohn return in triumph?
All this and more will singularly fail to be answered in - Brigadoon Rovers XIII- It's getting worse, isn't it?