Sean the Blade
Member
#Straff-Adder, Straff-Adder, he hasn’t got a light#
#Straff-Adder, Straff-Adder, he talks a lot of….#
Lee Straff-Adder closed his ledger, marked ‘Accounts, For Lee’s Eyes Only’, sighed and turned to his faithful companion Irvine-rick, who was over in the corner studying some papers.
“Well, that’s it Irvine-rick, we’re poor”
“Poor sir?”
“Yes Irvine-rick, we are poor, in fact we are as poor as a church mouse. As poor as a church mouse who has had to sell his wife and family to medical researchers after discovering his late father’s legacy of debt following his investments in MG Rover, Enron and Michael Jackson concerts!”
“That’s poor sir”
“But not as poor as us, or our team’s performances, have you read that paperwork I gave you?”
“Yes Lord Straff-Adder sir… What does P45 mean?”
“It means your job is going to be in jeopardy”
“I’ve always wanted to coach abroad”
“No you fool, the fans want ‘Big’ Ron back, the only thing stopping me bringing him in is that I can’t afford his Armani suits!”
“But you shop at Armani too sir”
“No, Irvine-rick, I shop at Army & Navy!”
“Have you tried going to the bank sir?”
“Yes, they told me I was a FOOL, and should put the gun down!”
“We need to raise revenue Irvine-rick, and fast. Who can we sell?”
“Franny Jeffers?”
“He’s crocked again isn’t he?”
“I have a cunning plan sir”
“A cunning plan Irvine-rick, is it as cunning as a fox with two tails that speaks three languages?”
“Yes sir, a cunning-linguist! The vultures are circling, the scouts are here to watch the team train, so, I’ve told Jeffers to come, and bring his kit”
“Yes”
“And, I’ve sprayed Fiery-Jack in Franny’s underpants, he’ll be running around like a spring chicken!”
“But Jeffers doesn’t wear underpants when he’s training, he changes back in to them when he drives ho…” Straff-Adder is cut off by a loud screeching of tyres, followed by the unmistakable sound of a car hitting a tree, at speed.
Straff-Adder paced his room, his brow furrowed in contemplation. A load commotion is heard outside his door before Irvine-rick bursts in, his face bloodied, and his clothes shredded “Do you mind Irvine-rick, I’m trying to think!”
“Sorry sir, it isn’t easy keeping the wolves away from your door, especially when all you gave me was a sharp stick!”
“That’s your fault Irvine-rick, if you used that stick properly it would more than suffice, what ARE you doing in my office anyway?”
“Well, whilst I was fighting off the wolves, a really nice man came up, helped me out. Said he was from the Co-op and gave me a letter, for you. You never told me about your new canal-side development”
“Canal-side development”
“Yeah, well the nice man from the Co-op was telling me how he was going to ‘change the locks”
The sun peeped over the top of the perimeter fence of Owlerton Stadium. In the lee of the fence, a cardboard box, labelled ‘Spin Dryer’, the top flap flew up like a gun port “THAT IS IT! NEVER AGAIN! I am NEVER going to share a box with you ever again. I’m getting back into Hillsborough again if it kills me!”
“How are you going to do that sir?”
“I have a plan… A cunning plan… Involving investment, investors and Americans, it may take some time, but by God….” A pair of hand made shoes planted themselves in front of Straff-Adder.
Lee’s eyes slowly traced a path up the well pressed trousers, past the hand painted silk tie “Errr, hello Mr Allen, erm, about that money I owe you…”
#Straff-Adder, Straff-Adder, he talks a lot of….#
Lee Straff-Adder closed his ledger, marked ‘Accounts, For Lee’s Eyes Only’, sighed and turned to his faithful companion Irvine-rick, who was over in the corner studying some papers.
“Well, that’s it Irvine-rick, we’re poor”
“Poor sir?”
“Yes Irvine-rick, we are poor, in fact we are as poor as a church mouse. As poor as a church mouse who has had to sell his wife and family to medical researchers after discovering his late father’s legacy of debt following his investments in MG Rover, Enron and Michael Jackson concerts!”
“That’s poor sir”
“But not as poor as us, or our team’s performances, have you read that paperwork I gave you?”
“Yes Lord Straff-Adder sir… What does P45 mean?”
“It means your job is going to be in jeopardy”
“I’ve always wanted to coach abroad”
“No you fool, the fans want ‘Big’ Ron back, the only thing stopping me bringing him in is that I can’t afford his Armani suits!”
“But you shop at Armani too sir”
“No, Irvine-rick, I shop at Army & Navy!”
“Have you tried going to the bank sir?”
“Yes, they told me I was a FOOL, and should put the gun down!”
“We need to raise revenue Irvine-rick, and fast. Who can we sell?”
“Franny Jeffers?”
“He’s crocked again isn’t he?”
“I have a cunning plan sir”
“A cunning plan Irvine-rick, is it as cunning as a fox with two tails that speaks three languages?”
“Yes sir, a cunning-linguist! The vultures are circling, the scouts are here to watch the team train, so, I’ve told Jeffers to come, and bring his kit”
“Yes”
“And, I’ve sprayed Fiery-Jack in Franny’s underpants, he’ll be running around like a spring chicken!”
“But Jeffers doesn’t wear underpants when he’s training, he changes back in to them when he drives ho…” Straff-Adder is cut off by a loud screeching of tyres, followed by the unmistakable sound of a car hitting a tree, at speed.
Straff-Adder paced his room, his brow furrowed in contemplation. A load commotion is heard outside his door before Irvine-rick bursts in, his face bloodied, and his clothes shredded “Do you mind Irvine-rick, I’m trying to think!”
“Sorry sir, it isn’t easy keeping the wolves away from your door, especially when all you gave me was a sharp stick!”
“That’s your fault Irvine-rick, if you used that stick properly it would more than suffice, what ARE you doing in my office anyway?”
“Well, whilst I was fighting off the wolves, a really nice man came up, helped me out. Said he was from the Co-op and gave me a letter, for you. You never told me about your new canal-side development”
“Canal-side development”
“Yeah, well the nice man from the Co-op was telling me how he was going to ‘change the locks”
The sun peeped over the top of the perimeter fence of Owlerton Stadium. In the lee of the fence, a cardboard box, labelled ‘Spin Dryer’, the top flap flew up like a gun port “THAT IS IT! NEVER AGAIN! I am NEVER going to share a box with you ever again. I’m getting back into Hillsborough again if it kills me!”
“How are you going to do that sir?”
“I have a plan… A cunning plan… Involving investment, investors and Americans, it may take some time, but by God….” A pair of hand made shoes planted themselves in front of Straff-Adder.
Lee’s eyes slowly traced a path up the well pressed trousers, past the hand painted silk tie “Errr, hello Mr Allen, erm, about that money I owe you…”
