Down Under With The FMS Gang

It had been one of the most sensational trials that had ever been seen at the Old Bailey. A group of men had been charged with the heinous crime of writing fictional football management stories and posting them on the internet with the sole intention of corrupting innocent young minds. The press had labelled these men ‘The FMS Gang’ and they now stood in the dock awaiting the jury’s verdict after a tumultuous trial that had lasted several weeks.

The prosecutor sat at his table with a smarmy look of confidence on his face. He had led the attack on ‘The FMS Gang’ with much gusto and vigour, highlighting the crimes of the men with an enjoyment that made his normally-pathetic little life seem worthwhile. He had detailed the chapters of rampant over-exaggeration, the paragraphs of blatant lies and the chilling secret internet society which saw the men communicate in code as they celebrated their ‘posts’. The public now knew the letters ‘KUTGW’ stood for far more than what they seemed.

The chief defender had painted a very different picture. He told a tale of simple men who enjoyed playing a football management simulation on their computers and then innocently embossed their exploits with scraps of fiction to create stories for the enjoyment of the masses. However he had always fought a holding action and was never able to go on the offensive, for the prosecution had always introduced new examples of the men’s crimes which appeared to sway the jury. The stories of Peacemaker7 and BobBev had been particularly damning to his case.

But now was the time for the verdict. The accused, the prosecutor and the chief defender all rose to their feet as the foreman handed the clerk of the court a slip of paper containing the jury’s decision. It was passed to the judge who briefly flicked his eyes over it and allowed a thin smile to cross his face. “How do you find the defendants? Guilty or not guilty?†asked the judge of the jury foreman. “We find the defendants guilty on all chargesâ€, was the reply. A loud murmur rose from the public gallery, but the judge silenced it with a bang of his gavel. “In that case, I impose the full weight of the law upon these men and invoke the sentence as requested by the prosecutionâ€.

“I sentence you all to twenty-five years transportation to the colony of Australiaâ€.

It had been one of the most sensational trials that had ever been seen at the Old Bailey. A group of men had been charged with the heinous crime of writing fictional football management stories and posting them on the internet with the sole intention of corrupting innocent young minds. The press had labelled these men ‘The FMS Gang’ and they now stood in the dock awaiting the jury’s verdict after a tumultuous trial that had lasted several weeks.

The prosecutor sat at his table with a smarmy look of confidence on his face. He had led the attack on ‘The FMS Gang’ with much gusto and vigour, highlighting the crimes of the men with an enjoyment that made his normally-pathetic little life seem worthwhile. He had detailed the chapters of rampant over-exaggeration, the paragraphs of blatant lies and the chilling secret internet society which saw the men communicate in code as they celebrated their ‘posts’. The public now knew the letters ‘KUTGW’ stood for far more than what they seemed.

The chief defender had painted a very different picture. He told a tale of simple men who enjoyed playing a football management simulation on their computers and then innocently embossed their exploits with scraps of fiction to create stories for the enjoyment of the masses. However he had always fought a holding action and was never able to go on the offensive, for the prosecution had always introduced new examples of the men’s crimes which appeared to sway the jury. The stories of Peacemaker7 and BobBev had been particularly damning to his case.

But now was the time for the verdict. The accused, the prosecutor and the chief defender all rose to their feet as the foreman handed the clerk of the court a slip of paper containing the jury’s decision. It was passed to the judge who briefly flicked his eyes over it and allowed a thin smile to cross his face. “How do you find the defendants? Guilty or not guilty?†asked the judge of the jury foreman. “We find the defendants guilty on all chargesâ€, was the reply. A loud murmur rose from the public gallery, but the judge silenced it with a bang of his gavel. “In that case, I impose the full weight of the law upon these men and invoke the sentence as requested by the prosecutionâ€.

“I sentence you all to twenty-five years transportation to the colony of Australiaâ€.

It had been one of the most sensational trials that had ever been seen at the Old Bailey. A group of men had been charged with the heinous crime of writing fictional football management stories and posting them on the internet with the sole intention of corrupting innocent young minds. The press had labelled these men ‘The FMS Gang’ and they now stood in the dock awaiting the jury’s verdict after a tumultuous trial that had lasted several weeks.

The prosecutor sat at his table with a smarmy look of confidence on his face. He had led the attack on ‘The FMS Gang’ with much gusto and vigour, highlighting the crimes of the men with an enjoyment that made his normally-pathetic little life seem worthwhile. He had detailed the chapters of rampant over-exaggeration, the paragraphs of blatant lies and the chilling secret internet society which saw the men communicate in code as they celebrated their ‘posts’. The public now knew the letters ‘KUTGW’ stood for far more than what they seemed.

The chief defender had painted a very different picture. He told a tale of simple men who enjoyed playing a football management simulation on their computers and then innocently embossed their exploits with scraps of fiction to create stories for the enjoyment of the masses. However he had always fought a holding action and was never able to go on the offensive, for the prosecution had always introduced new examples of the men’s crimes which appeared to sway the jury. The stories of Peacemaker7 and BobBev had been particularly damning to his case.

But now was the time for the verdict. The accused, the prosecutor and the chief defender all rose to their feet as the foreman handed the clerk of the court a slip of paper containing the jury’s decision. It was passed to the judge who briefly flicked his eyes over it and allowed a thin smile to cross his face. “How do you find the defendants? Guilty or not guilty?†asked the judge of the jury foreman. “We find the defendants guilty on all chargesâ€, was the reply. A loud murmur rose from the public gallery, but the judge silenced it with a bang of his gavel. “In that case, I impose the full weight of the law upon these men and invoke the sentence as requested by the prosecutionâ€.

“I sentence you all to twenty-five years transportation to the colony of Australiaâ€.

Yay Australia \o/

I'm glad to see you're looking forward to your 'punishment', PM7.

================================================

Back in the holding cells beneath the Old Bailey after the sentences had been past, the various members of ‘The FMS Gang’ mused on their fate. “Australia!! – goddam it, why don’t they just hang me instead?†moaned Peacemaker7. Clearly he felt that the sentence did not fit the crime. “Shut your whining PMâ€, snarled Raptor. “You’re one of the main reasons that we are in the situation that we areâ€. Peacemaker7 and Raptor looked ready to go at each other’s throats, but thankfully they were in adjoining cells and were unlikely to be able to hurt each other.

Sharing the cell with Raptor was BobBev and he sat quietly in the corner. He had not said much during the four weeks that the trail had been ongoing and it was clear that he was suffering from FMS withdrawal symptoms. “I haven’t started a new story for six weeksâ€, he mumbled to himself. “I always start a new story once a month, but it has been six weeks nowâ€, he continued. And as he had done for the past ten days, Bobbev raised his fingers to an imaginary keyboard and pretended to type. “Another Scottish international management tale – by BobBevâ€, he whispered to himself.

Across the aisle in another cell Terk and Tyrone the Magazine looked on glumly in Bob’s direction. “The poor fella is going downhill fast†said Terk. “Ayeâ€, agreed Tyrone, “he needs to post soon or he won’t make it to Australiaâ€. It was apt that the pair was sharing a cell together, for they had both attempted to escape the clutches of the police by changing their names in the final couple of weeks before they had been taken into custody. Whilst Terk had hidden under the temporary alias of Goldfoilman, Tyrone had made a permanent switch from Tyrone the Mag and hoped to confuse the authorities by that method. Both had still been arrested all the same.

There were some that were taking it all in their stride. Brian of Nazareth was one of them, as was OMDave. The pair sat in another holding cell discussing what the future may hold in Australia. “I understand the dope is quite decent over thereâ€, said OMDave. “Trueâ€, agreed Brian, “and the choice of beer has greatly improved over the past couple of years, so I’ve been toldâ€. Across from them Faramir sat despondently in another cell. “Goddam, where the hell is Bruce Willis and the rescue squad?†muttered the American to himself. “In the movies whenever an American citizen is being unfairly persecuted in a foreign country, Bruce Willis always comes along and saves him. They’ve obviously forgotten about meâ€, he said.

Only one person didn’t seem to be too unhappy to be heading for Australia and he had an obvious reason to be. Spav was an Australian himself, so he would be returning home. Indeed, several of his co-accused FMSers wondered if he may have worked a deal with the prosecution that allowed him to be sent back home, but then again he was facing exactly the same charges and suffering exactly the same sentence. It was just that the ‘punishment’ would not appear to be as severe in his case.

If I'm not in this story, considering I'm born and bred in Melbourne, then .... *shakes fist*

Seriously, good luck.

I've got a list of about 30 regulars that have been contributing here since I joined nearly a year ago. All of them will appear in the story at some time.

Your name is on my hit-list, Dixie!!

A spookily accurate depiction of the sad and lonely figure that is an FMS addict Spav - guilty as charged

ROFL- good start Spav

(waiting on Bruce Willis? More likely waiting on a beautiful American lawyer- hopefully played by Sigourney Weaver- to rescue me )

Raptor would never say shut your whining to me, he knows better

Spav, I'm not sure you realize what you're getting yourself into here; do you really think you can handle all the egos in here? I look forward to finding out

Bright start -nothing like a jail cell for new beginnings

Trip to Oz

Damn I knew I should have changed my name more

Hmmn looks interesting, there has to be fatalities though.

BobBev, Faramir, PM7, OMDave, Tyrone and Lord Crumb - thanks for the 'encouragement'. Hopefully I can ensure that any comments you have made are somehow reflected in the story ahead.

================================================

“Oi, Spav, did you grass us all out just so you could get a free ticket back home?†called out uskopite from his cell. uskopite was another of the American’s that had been caught up in the whole scandal, even though he was a recent addition to ‘The FMS Gang’, and he was looking for someone to blame (as Americans generally do). Spav seemed to be a likely target for that sort of question, but he already had an answer for the American. “No, I didn’t grass anyone out and just for your information I’m not the only Aussie here you know. Don’t let the Mediterranean looks and the fact that he gave his country of residence as Italy disguise the fact that haze.13 is an Australian. The same goes for Dixie Flatline as well. Cartagena in Spain is only his second home after his birthplace of Melbourneâ€.

“Alright you load of perverts, keep the noise downâ€, yelled a guard who was sick of all the conversations going on between the cells. “You’ll have plenty of time to talk in Australia. In the meantime, pack up your measly belongings and get ready to leave – the van will be arriving to take you to Heathrow Airport in the next half hourâ€. A sobbing sound came from the one of the cells at the end of the corridor. It was bartley_m, one of the youngest of ‘The FMS Gang’. “I don’t want to go to Australia – it’s full of snakes and spiders and man-eating Aboriginesâ€, he wailed. “That’s not the worst of it though, kidâ€, said Bagpuss from the cell next to him. “Their Sky network coverage is crap and you can’t get a decent packet of crisps anywhere in the countryâ€.

Half an hour later the prisoners were marched from their cells just as the guard had predicted. Each of them was handcuffed and led out to one of three police vans which then set off in convoy towards Heathrow Airport. Once there the men were whisked through the rear entrance of Customs where the necessary paperwork was quickly completed to ensure that their transportation was legal. An hour later and they were led onto a Qantas flight where they were taken to the rear seats of the Jumbo jet. A row of seats had been removed so that a set of guards could keep the prisoners separated from the general public on the flight. Twenty minutes later the Jumbo jet raced down the runway and rose into the mid-afternoon sky over London. Those that had seats near the windows looked out with sadness in their eyes. It was the last that they would see of England for the next twenty-five years.

The flight went smoothly for the first leg of the trip to Australia. Fourteen hours after their departure from London ‘The FMS Gang’ were touching down in Singapore for a scheduled refuelling stop. A break of two hours ensued and then the passengers reboarded for the final seven hours of the trip to Sydney. However they had only been flying for just over an hour when an announcement from the pilot came over the intercom. “Ladies and gentlemen, we currently have an indicator showing a possible fuel-loss problem. For the sake of safety I will be taking the plane down to land at the nearest suitable airport. In this case that will be Denpasar airport on the island of Bali in Indonesiaâ€.

Sure enough, thirty minutes later the plane landed in Denpasar. The passengers quickly filed off and into were shown into a sealed transit lounge. After a couple of hours a Qantas official came into the room and asked for everyone’s attention. “The safety check of your plane is taking longer than we expected, so we will putting you all up in a hotel for the night at our expense and your flight will continue on to Sydney tomorrow morning. In a few minutes a series of buses will arrive to take you all to a luxurious hotel at Kuta Beach. Once again, please accept our apologies for the inconvenience that this episode has causedâ€.

“Inconvenienceâ€, yelled Lord Crumb, one of ‘The FMS Gang’. “I’ll be stuck in Kuta Beach on Bali with a load of Australians all around me. That means only one thing – we’re all gonna die. Those fecking terrorists will blow us all to piecesâ€.

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by OMDave:

Spav, I'm not sure you realize what you're getting yourself into here; do you really think you can handle all the egos in here? I look forward to finding out

Bright start -nothing like a jail cell for new beginnings </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

bah, be quiet and have a toke on this:

*passes imaginary bifta*

looking forward to this one - not too much pressure on sustaining this now Spav

Bali! Oh sweet nectar of paradise! My only questions are, do we get food and flight vouchers for the inconvenience, and where's the nearest Western Bar/Night Club - though it will be tough to get my groove on his these shackles around my pegs.

Sentenced to Australia? Harsh man, harsh

enjoying this so far, spaz

It's a Spaz special

Oooh, interesting. I will be following this

This is Spavtastic!

uskopite, terk, bartley_m and haze.13 - thanks a lot.

Daz the Imp and WLKRAS - you'll be in this sometime soon.

I know one thing; if I were flying out of England knowing I wouldn't go back there for another twenty-five years, I wouldn't be looking out 'with sadness in my eyes'...

And Brian, 'imaginary' is no good to anyone. Just my luck to be stuck in a cell with you

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by haze.13:

This is Spavtastic! </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

It's spaztastic.

And I'm with Dave, not seeing England is a bonus, probably would be tears of joy

does anyone actually regret leaving England

Dave it's quite simple, I have some paper here, and there appears to be an assortment of weeds and animal excrement in that corner over there. I'm rolling now ok? Remember it's a long time until we'll be out of this here cell

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Brian of Nazareth:

does anyone actually regret leaving England

Dave it's quite simple, I have some paper here, and there appears to be an assortment of weeds and animal excrement in that corner over there. I'm rolling now ok? Remember it's a long time until we'll be out of this here cell </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Oh yes, I dislike hot weather immensely, I can never get to sleep and I feel all irritable and weary.

Perhaps I should have written “It was the last that they would see of Britain for the next twenty-five yearsâ€, but I’m sure some of you pedantic whingers would have had a go at that as well.

Of course the accommodation in the luxury hotel at Kuta Beach only applied to those paying customers on the Qantas flight and not the filthy criminals who were being transported to Australia. Instead they were whisked away to Kerobokan prison upon their disembarkation from the Jumbo jet. Now it must be said that the conditions at this foul and squalid jail made the holdings cells at the Old Bailey seem like five-star hotel in the Caribbean by comparison. Luckily (if that is the right word) for ‘The FMS Gang’ they would only being staying in this place for one night, so they were placed in the Remand Section cells where the native rats and cockroaches were of a less fearsome demeanour.

OMDave and Brian of Nazareth already seemed to be getting on each other’s nerves by being housed together in the same cell after previously being shackled together on the flight. There had been a few raised words between the two and suddenly a pushing match erupted after Brian’s efforts in purchasing a joint from a local prisoner in the adjacent cell ended in the newly purchased item being dropped to the floor so that it rolled out off the cell and out of their reach. No-one paid much attention as there were fights going on between the locals prisoners at regular intervals anyway. OMDave gave Brian an almighty shove in his frustration and Brian crashed against the cell door which suddenly sprang open. Everything stopped as the prisoners gazed at the now-open door. Should they make a break for it or would it be better to sit out their time here and travel on to Australia instead?

It was uskopite who made up their minds of those in the cell as he suddenly sprang to his feet and walked through the open door saying that it was “time that I tasted the sweet nectar of paradiseâ€. Brian of Nazareth and OMDave gave each other a nod and they both took off as well. There were another three prisoners in the same cell. WLKRAS decided that he might as well enjoy the fresh air, so he got up and left as well and displaced_seagull got up to follow the others also. That left just Gricehead in the cell. “You foolsâ€, he yelled at the disappearing quintet, “they’ll just string you up by your balls when they catch you, then they’ll shoot you after thatâ€. He got up and pulled the cell door shut. “Bugger that for a joke, I’m staying hereâ€, he announced.

The remainder of ‘The FMS Gang’ looked on from their cells. “Good luck to that jammy bugger OMDaveâ€, said Terk. “He’s only ever done one story on FMS that I know of and that was some shoddy effort about pirates or something. Anyway it was based in France, so I never read the bloody thing properly. He was a bit unlucky to get caught up in the whole episode in the first placeâ€. Peacemaker7 waved his finger at Terk. “Rubbish, we’re all in this together – one story from him or four hundred and sixteen from me – it’s all the same. If that was my cell door that was open, then I’d been doing the same as him. After all, what can be worse than being sent to Australia for twenty-five years?â€

It was 4.30am when the prisoners that had managed to go to sleep were woken by loud yelling and they joined their more wary comrades who had stayed awake in the squalor of Kerobokan prison. Several Indonesian guards marched in escorting some new additions to the jail’s population. There were five prisoners – of course, it was uskopite, OMDave, Brian of Nazareth, WLKRAS and displaced_seagull – and they all looked in various stages of intoxication. They were bundled back into the cell from which they had left nine hours earlier, but interestingly no-one checked the lock that had been broken earlier. Gricehead surveyed his returned colleagues and asked the question that everyone was wondering about. “So where have you lot been and what happened out there?â€

WLKRAS looked the fittest of the bunch and it was he who answered the question. “We just walked out of here, man. No-one stopped us once we had got out into the main hallway. We thought that uskopite would give the game away by yelling out in his American accent, so we chased him down and caught up with him. He just wanted to party at the nearest bar that we could find. We didn’t have far to go to find a place and displaced_seagull managed to pickpocket a credit card from some drunken Swedish tourist. Brian of Nazareth put on his best Scandinavian accent and went up to the bar and asked to set up a tab using the card. We’d been drinking for a while and flirting with a few of the local ladies when OMDave suddenly flew out of his chair, in the process dumping onto the floor the local Balinese girl who had been sitting in his lapâ€. WLKRAS stopped to get his breath back and take a swig of water from a plastic bottle that he was carrying and then he continued with the tale. “It seems that Dave was having a bit of a feel around when he discovered that his ‘girl’ had a ****. I think it was a bit of a shock, to say the leastâ€.

OMDave took up the tale. “You’re telling me it was a ‘shock’, mate. Suddenly this she-male is up off the floor, effing and swearing at me in a combination of Balinese and English. Some minder comes running over from the bar, so I decked him with a right hook when it looked like he was going to get a bit nasty. Another geezer stepped out and Brian nailed him with a neat uppercut, so we were doing alright at this stage. seagull tried to calm things down and WLKRAS said we’d better leave, but bloody uskopite was suddenly up and standing in the middle of the floor saying that America feared no-one and we’d take on the lot of them. Needless to say, someone had already called the police and a bunch of the local flatfoots quickly arrived, so we thought we’d better take it easy after that. They took us down to the local police station, but when they found that all five of us had no papers on us, they decided to lock us up for the night while they sorted it out. So here we are, back with you mugs again, but this time with charges of drunk and disorderly and assault against us as wellâ€.

Gricehead shook his head. “See, I told you no good would come of this. Give your balls one last rub fellas, because these locals will be cutting them off later today, of that I am sureâ€.

That last sentence makes it sound as though Gricehead wants some gay action !

Feckin American's - You'd think THEY were the ones that were orginally a convict colony!

So auto-censor . . .that girl had a what? Some four letter word . . .

a beer? no . . .

a wart? no . . .

a ****? A ****!!!! Oh my gosh I'm going to be sick

At 9.00am the British authorities that were transporting ‘The FMS Gang’ arrived at Kerobokan jail and collected their prisoners. The local police didn’t seem to make the connection between the five men who were bought in on drunk and disorderly and assault charges and the five FMSers who were signed out, so it looked as though those guys had managed to avoid having to face those charges against them. Shackled again, ‘The FMS Gang’ was transported back to Denpasar airport where they boarded their repaired Jumbo jet for the final leg of their trip to Australia. At 11.00am the plane took to the skies and headed for Sydney. Six hours later and the Qantas flight was touching down at Mascot airport in Sydney. ‘The FMS Gang’ was swiftly whisked through the customs and immigration zone and was marched out ahead of most of the disembarking passengers that had shared the flight with them. That was when the next set of fun and games started.

The Australian media hadn’t been sitting around with their thumbs up their arses waiting for a new story to surface. They had heard of the controversial case that had resulted in thirty or so men being transported from Britain to Australia for the crime of writing corruptive football stories and they had decided that the news of their arrival was going to be the event that fuelled their newspaper sales for the next week or two. Consequently as ‘The FMS Gang’ walked into the main terminal they were suddenly surrounded by a sea of television cameras, plus journalists with their accompanying photographers. Peacemaker7 seemed to have been identified as one of the key FMSers and a barrage of question were aimed his way.

Channel 9 Reporter: “Peacemaker 7, can you tell me your feelings now that you have arrived in Australia?â€

Peacemaker7: “I’m fuming. The whole trial was a farce. It was concocted by the English establishment purely to dampen the blossoming Scottish nationalist fervour that I have been promoting. As a growing personality on the Scottish political scene, the English framed me with these pathetic and trumped up charges merely to remove me from the pictureâ€.

Before another question could be aimed at Peacemaker7, the reporter was pushed aside by one of the guards with the grunted comment of â€don’t speak to this criminal dogâ€.

A frail looking BobBev was targeted by another of the camera crews as he shuffled through the terminal.

Channel 7 Reporter: “BobBev, is it true that you have been denied basic medication during your incarceration?â€

BobBev: “Yes, my internet-posting addiction is well documented and I haven’t even been allowed near a laptop, let alone a PC with FM2005 installed on it. At Singapore airport the guards deliberately led me through an internet café just to taunt me. Their behaviour has been inhumaneâ€.

Another guard shoved his big hand into the lens of the television camera to cut short the questioning. As he did he looked at BobBev and said “we’ll sort you out later, pervert.â€

Last in the group to be moved though the terminal was bartley_m and another television crew homed in on him.

Channel 10 Reporter: “bartley_m, as the youngest of ‘The FMS Gang’ what have you got to say about your situation?â€

bartley_m: “I just want my Mummy and my blue blanketâ€.

bartley_m broke down into tears before he could speak any further and he was quickly hustled onto the waiting prison-bus that the rest of ‘The FMS Gang’ had already been led on to. The door slammed shut and the prison-bus quickly sped away from the horde of reporters swarming at the entrance to the Arrivals terminal. Its next stop was Sydney’s Long Bay prison.

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">bartley_m: “I just want my Mummy and my red blanketâ€. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

When the prison bus arrived at Long Bay jail, ‘The FMS Gang’ was escorted through to a holding room. It was now early evening and the men expected that they would soon be locked up for the night to begin their twenty-five year sentences. They all took a seat at the tables and chairs scattered around the room, but a series of stern looks from the guards indicated to them that no conversation would be tolerated. After about five minutes, the door opened and two men walked in. One was wearing a prison warder’s uniform and the other was wearing a business suit. It was the uniformed man who spoke first.

“Alright you scum, I’m Bruce McKenzie and I’m the Superintendent of the Long Bay Prison. For tonight you are under my custody. Fortunately for each of you, it is only for tonight that you will be incarcerated here. If I had my way you’d all be here for the next twenty-five years and I’d be making your life hell for each and every day of that period. Unfortunately for me, that particular wish of mine hasn’t been granted. Instead ‘greater’ minds than mine have decided that rehabilitation is possible in your cases, so you’ll be getting an easy ride with those do-gooders supervising your sentences. However just the slightest hiccup in your behaviour and you’ll be back in here under my care and I will certainly be looking forward to thatâ€.

With that Superintendent McKenzie turned and started to head out of the room, but he hesitated and turned back towards the group. “Which one of you is Faramir?†he asked. Faramir slowly raised his hand. “You sick bastardâ€, McKenzie said. “I read ‘Troubled Visions’ and I was appalled by its filth and depravity. I’d love to spend fifteen minutes in a locked room with just you and a length of rubber hose and then we’d see who was a real manâ€. McKenzie turned again and departed the room. Faramir just shook his head in bewilderment. “It’s only a football fantasy storyâ€, he whispered.

The man in the business suit cleared his throat to attract their attention back to the front of the room and also to indicate that he was ready to speak. “I apologise for Superintendent McKenzie’s outburst – he is a man of the old school of thought when it comes to prisons and reform. Let me introduce myself, I am Julian Fenshaw from the New South Wales Corrective Services Department. When the British courts contacted us with the proposal that ‘The FMS Gang’ would be transported here to Australia if they were found guilty of their crimes, a colleague of mine in the Corrective Services Department suggested that we take on board your rehabilitation. Since then we have been devising a plan to assist each of you to reform from your criminal ways and eventually return to society, perhaps even earlier than in twenty-five years if your progress is even better than expected. This colleague of mine is waiting outside and will make themselves known to you shortly. In the meantime I ask you all to remain here and you will be given further information on our rehabilitation plansâ€. Having finished his short speech, Julian Fenshaw departed the room the way of Superintendent McKenzie. The half dozen guards in the room also filed out after him, leaving the prisoners by themselves.

After about ten seconds Raptor got to his feet. “Its sounds like they have got a plan for usâ€, he said. “I suggest we go along with it at the start because it looks like it will ensure that we don’t spend too much time in this place with that crazy Superintendent McKenzie keeping a watch on our every moveâ€. But before anyone really had time to discuss what was going to happen next, the door opened and a woman walked in. And what a woman she was – she was about six feet tall with flowing strawberry-blonde hair that cascaded past her shoulders, she looked about twenty-eight years old and she was stunningly beautiful in a short red skirt and matching jacket. She cast her eyes over the assembled men before her. “Alright then, who wants to be the first to spend a night with me?†she asked.

Is this the bit where i raise my hand?

Can I call shotgun on the woman?

She's probably a man, or has aids or is actually Bagpuss.

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Peacemaker7:

She's probably a man, or has aids or is actually Bagpuss. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Most likely a combination. And then most likely the last two

Oh no . . . I've always had a weakness for red-heads!

Just ask the wifey

Where's this going spav? I sense that i won't have that question answered for a long time yet

KUTGW!

Thanks for the interaction and feedback from everyone. It's really helpful to me with regard to my enthusiasm for the story and giving me some more personal touches to add to the narrative.

PM7 and Daz - the woman will be a real woman. I don't think I could contemplate her being Bagpuss in disguise.

haze.13 - the football bit will kick in soon, but where this is all going even I dont know.

Daz the Imp was the first to respond. “Form a line behind me, fellasâ€, he said as he got to his feet. Daz walked over towards the woman and held out his hand towards her. “Daz the Imp is my name and you know what they say about imps being naughty little devilsâ€, he said as he gave her a wink for added measure. The woman shook his offered hand and responded “I’m Genevieve Waldorf and I know you’ve been a very naughty little boy, Daz. That’s why you’re here in the first place. Now I’d like you to take your seat again pleaseâ€. Daz gave her a nod and went back to his place. “Just remember I’m first to spend a night with you when we get back to that subject againâ€, Daz said as he sat down in his seat.

“Gentlemen, as you heard me say to Daz, I’m Genevieve Waldorf. I’m a clinical psychologist with the New South Wales Corrective Services Department and I am the person who came up with the plan for your rehabilitation that was accepted by the British authorities. Firstly, and for Daz’s benefit, let me explain the reason for my opening statement. I shall be working with each of you on individual rehabilitation plans tailored for each person’s particular ‘ailment’ and I shall go through those plans each evening, one person at a time. Daz has kindly volunteered to be the first of you to have his rehabilitation plan laid out for him. Now does anyone have any questions at this stage?â€

WLKRAS put up his hand. “Genevieve, can I go sloppy seconds after Daz?†There was a general patter of laughter throughout the room. Genevieve shook her head sadly. “I’m familiar with each of your case-files and I have seen your photographs, so I know that you are WLKRAS. Now I must say that your question is the typical response of a person suffering from the sort of personality disorders that particularly affect you. It is something that I intend to work upon in the coming monthsâ€. WLKRAS got to his feet angrily. “There’s nothing wrong with me that needs treatment. You’d be damn angry and sarcastic too if you’d been fitted up on some crazy charges and transported to the other side of the world for twenty-five yearsâ€. With that WLKRAS sat down again and turned his back to Genevieve.

Bagpuss raised his had briefly and spoke next. “Look Genevieve, let’s cut to the chase here. We’re all mightily peeved here and we want to know what’s going on, so let’s drop the smart-alec comments and petty mind-games and why don’t you tell us what you have in store for us. Fair enoughâ€, Genevieve replied. “Basically, each of you gentlemen has an affiliation with the game of football, but it is only based in and around your imagination. You have allowed these fantasies to take control of your lives and in doing so you have turned your lurid thoughts into reality in terms of the written word and you have spread those words across the internet where they can influence and corrupt younger or weaker minds. What I aim to do is give each of you a chance to take your affiliation with football from a mental level to a physical level. You will all be given the chance to work with the teams in the new Australian A-League and in doing so you will put your love of the game to a more practical use. This in turn should fuel your rehabilitation and we should see a lessening of these fantasies and lives lived through imagination. Instead you will then be able to interact more freely with those people in general society instead of shunning themâ€. Genevieve waited briefly for her words to sink in. “Now, do we have any further questions?â€

Tyrone the Magazine raised his hand. “Can I go sloppy thirds?†he asked.

fs when did bagpuss learn all those big words - like want, and us.

Actually I think Bagpuss is appearing on nip tuck soon to get a new face and that's why we haven't seen him around.

But to the story and erm, you're just making this up as you go Spav aren't you

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Peacemaker7:

fs when did bagpuss learn all those big words - like want, and us.

Actually I think Bagpuss is appearing on nip tuck soon to get a new face and that's why we haven't seen him around.

But to the story and erm, you're just making this up as you go Spav aren't you </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Dammit you found out

Loving it so far Spav

Hmmn each of us to manage a team, are you programming in all of us as managers and how do you determine stats and preferred formations etc etc.

Enjoying the read so far, though a lot of the FMS'ers so seem to be sexual deviants, I'll have to endure their banal witterings for 25 years!

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Peacemaker7:

But to the story and erm, you're just making this up as you go Spav aren't you </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Of course I am.

I have a broad idea of the football part of the story, but every day is a blank page and my inspiration arrives at strange times.

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Bagpuss:

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Peacemaker7:

fs when did bagpuss learn all those big words - like want, and us.

Actually I think Bagpuss is appearing on nip tuck soon to get a new face and that's why we haven't seen him around.

But to the story and erm, you're just making this up as you go Spav aren't you </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Dammit you found out

Loving it so far Spav </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

Actually with the money you make now, you can probably afford it. Won't recognize you at the next meet.

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">Originally posted by Lord Crumb:

Hmmn each of us to manage a team, are you programming in all of us as managers and how do you determine stats and preferred formations etc etc. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

No LC, there's too many members of 'The FMS Gang' to make everyone a manager and the A-League only has 8 teams. People will fill a variety of roles and the football will take care of itself.

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-title">quote:</div><div class="ip-ubbcode-quote-content">I have a broad idea of the football part of the story, but every day is a blank page and my inspiration arrives at strange times. </div></BLOCKQUOTE>

LOL - For me everyday is a blank page. Period.

Lovin it. gissa roll gov