Date: 25th August 2009 at 3:20pm
Written by:


Vital Manchester City’s newbie, BLOOMOON sent us the following…

In light of Manchester City’s crude attempt to ruin English football with their obscene amount of money and power I feel I must voice my concern for the safety of our manager, Mark Hughes.

Please, let me explain.

As the man on the front line, Mark Hughes appears to be a figure of hate especially with one or two of our rival managers. Perhaps its only a matter of time before one of these unbalanced individuals decide to take matters into their own hands?

Picture the scene if you will? Sparky arrives at his office first thing Monday morning, opens his desk draw only to find a cannonball style Acme bomb blazoned across it. Alarmingly its fuse is fizzing down to the point of no return, but luckily, our brave manager manages to diffuse the lethal object, but in doing so he is extremely shaken up to say the least.

Later the same morning Hughey and his backroom staff are taking an important training session when suddenly a bullet whizzes past the managers ear. A man with red hair, a manic stare and a Scottish accent is caught in some undergrowth by the MCFC security staff and is hauled off to the local police station!

Six Months Later

The orderly at the Sir Alex Ferguson home for broken down managers is showing the new trainee the ropes on his first day at the newly decorated institution. As they approach the first padded cell on the west wing for of the insane they stop dead in their tracks.

‘Now this is a particularly disturbing and sad case,’ says the old man. ‘He was a well respected and moderately successful man until one day he just snapped. Would you like to go in and observe him for yourself?’

‘Yes ok if that alright,’ says the young man, nervously.

As the two entered the cell the sight which greeted them was not a pretty one! In the corner of the 12 by 8 room sat a wild eyed man in a straight jacket rocking back and forth. He clearly had not bathed in weeks and was in desperate need of a shave and haircut.

‘What is that monotonous chant he is muttering under his breath,’ asked the new orderly?

‘This my young friend is the only two sentences that have passed his lips since he arrived here’

They stood in silence and listened.

‘I am the man who makes the decisions, he’s not for sale at any price. I am the man who makes the decisions, he’s not for…’

Little Known Fact

The institutions shop had, on the advice of the insane’s family and friends decided to withdraw the sale of pencils and white underpants (wibble).

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