In a bunker 150 feet below the Corner Pin, sits a wizened old gent basking in the glow of the best tanning lamps money can buy. All he has on is an old pair of brown Speedos which have been so bleached by the lights that neither 's' is visible. There's a gentle beep from the bookcase that covers the wall directly in front of him, followed by a pneumatic hiss as the bookcases glide apart revealing a short, bald, weasel of a man in a blazer carrying a laptop and wearing a worried frown upon a forehead that seems to stretch all the way to the top of his gleaming pate. The weasel emits a small meow of surprise upon seeing his mentor in such a state of undress before regaining his composure and walking nimbly into the room. 'Sorry Sir, I didn't realise you were still in a period of tansition, would you like me to come back later'?
'Don't be silly boy, come on in, take a seat. I'm nearly done.......... No not there man, can't you see I'm bronzing. I've told you before that I'll pat my lap when it's okay for you to sit in it'
'Sorry sir, forgot myself for a minute there, do you mind if I make myself comfy by the fire?' A small wave of the mottled bronze hand signals consent and the weasel makes his way to a small white rug situated directly in front of a large flat screen TV which is showing a raging fire upon its screen, The weasel paces in small circles around the rug as if trying to find the softest spot before changing his mind and settling on a seat opposite the old man. 'Can't sit there Sir, I'll be asleep in two minutes if I do and I can't miss Homes Under the Hammer again this week.'
'I can see you're concerned about something Danny, tell me all about it. It's not the Laser is it?.......... Em eye five aren't onto us are they?'
'No, no boss, the Laser is coming on just fine, nobody suspects that the new Sainsburys roof is on a complex series of pulleys and levers that, at the push of a button will create the most powerful weapon the world has ever seen, this time next year we'll be in a position to hold the entire Western world to ransom.'
'NEXT YEAR, IT'S ALWAYS NEXT YEAR, I want results man, what's the hold up?'
'It's the escape pod Sir, TFL have only offered us seventeen million and it's going to cost at least ninety-five to hook us up to both the Northern and Bakerloo lines in the event of an emergency. No need to worry though Sir, I have a cunning plan. I'm going to sell the Gareth and the Jan, there'll even be some left over for those Ambre Solaire shares you wanted and everyone will blame the AVB'
'Good man, good man, Ambre Solaire eh, ahhhhhh tansition, as long as the lair is finished before the punters get wise everything will be fine. Now tell me what's bothering you Danny, your uncle Joe is all ears'
'That's because they never stop growing Sir.......... Ears........ Oh never mind. What really concerns me is that my copy of Football Manager doesn't seem to be working properly. Dempsey had great stats so I bought him, now we're top of the league and he's scoring at least two goals a game and the press love him. I've built us a seventy thousand seater stadium and it's full every week. What I can't understand is why the real team aren't producing these results, it's almost as if stats don't mean anything ......….
Sorry guys I know it's a bit silly and badly thrown together, just a bit of light relief. COYS
Cunningly thought out by thfc1882whl
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