coloradogkb Posted August 6, 2011 Share Posted August 6, 2011 It's nice to see Erica showing just the briefest glimpse of some humanity. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
banglared Posted August 6, 2011 Share Posted August 6, 2011 Is it actually £90,000 or are they conning you (slightly) again? Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Panpardus Posted August 6, 2011 Share Posted August 6, 2011 Cracking read still Scott. One of my favourites on the forum. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 6, 2011 Author Share Posted August 6, 2011 Thanks guys. Yeah it was a good moment for Erica, although the official figure inside the envelope actually said £89,995.50. :confused: --------- 29/06/10 - The perfect crime Pre-season training is now well underway, giving me something solid to chew on rather than be stuck in the stifled atmosphere of the communal offices. Our first friendly is at home to Leyton Orient. Although our summer recruitment drive is far from complete, I want what players we have already to be as prepared for the game as possible. My record in friendlies is atrocious. I’d like to change that in this, my third pre-season since I joined. After several of what I would call mild sessions up to this point, today I pushed everyone to the max. We did field laps, bleep tests, passing and shooting, plus a whole bunch of other stuff. We finished with a five a side. Despite all the other things on my mind, I found myself getting really into it. “That’s it, Claude! Set him free – No, you went too early! – That’s it – Look for him! He won’t come to you! – Keep it on the deck! – Back! Back! Back! – That’s it! – Great Save! – Further up! – No you’re too wide, far too wide! – Oh leave it out Keith! What you trying to do, put him out before the season’s even started?!” I was interrupted by a call from none other that Detective Maynard. Flipping my phone open, I walked away from the pitch and left Brian to take over for a while. “Hello”. “James, it’s Detective Maynard” said a gruff voice. “Yeah I know. Any news?” “Sadly no. Well, only bad news. I’m afraid we’re closing the investigation”. “What?! Why?” “James, it’s been almost a month. Nothing’s turned up. We haven’t even found one suspect. The gun was never found. Nobody on the street is saying anything. CCTV didn’t catch anything. And forensic turned up nothing. Whoever did this either got incredibly lucky or he was a pro". I rubbed my mouth and kicked at a stray piece of fluff. I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. The assumption that Caroline’s killer would eventually be brought to justice has been the only thing keeping me going these past few weeks. Over at the five a side, new signing Kearns smashed one in from twenty yards and Brian turned around to see if I’d seen it. “You can’t give up now!” I insisted, moving further away from both him and the football. “Whoever he is, he’s got to pay! You can’t just let him get away!” “We’ve used all the resources we have at our dispo – “ “Then get more resources! Bring some officers across from the Hertfordshire force, or from London. Have you tried to put the case on Crimewatch yet? Get Kirsty Young on the job. That might turn something up. What about Scotland Yard? Have you brought them in yet? If not, get them on the phone. MI5? MI6? Come on, Maynard, this is a MURDER investigation, not some chav nicking a Snicker from the local corner shop”. “James –“ “And what about the Americans? Have you enquired to see if they can spare any FBI or CIA or NCIS? Anybody. If not, why not? We went to Iraq for them. They should be keen to do us a favour in return”. “James, it’s over!” Maynard positively shouted at me. “It’s over! Now listen, I didn’t even have to call you about this but I did it as a professional favour to Alison. You have my sympathies, and hers. Now I have to go. I’m sorry”. “Whatever”. It was now a straight race to see who could hang up first, and I think I might have just beaten him. Feeling thoroughly deflated I trudged back over to where Brian was. The five a side was still continuing at frenetic pace. “Did you see that goal by – “ “The police have called off their investigation” I said by interruption, eyes never leaving the pitch. I could sense Brian look at me wondering how to respond, eventually settling for the safe route. “I’m sorry to hear about that, mate. I really am”. “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter”. “It doesn’t?” “Nope”. “Why?” Now I turned to face him. “Because if they're not going to catch him, I'll get the f__ker myself”. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
FlownCanary Posted August 7, 2011 Share Posted August 7, 2011 Wow, the new season almost becomes secondary here. I still love this story, just James' luck that the press get video of his EPIC jump into the pool, and think it was a suicide attempt haha! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chao Yang Posted August 7, 2011 Share Posted August 7, 2011 Would have been more amusing if they caught the girl trying to catch him for stealing her phone as well~ Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 8, 2011 Author Share Posted August 8, 2011 01/07/11 - Social networking I associate Facebook with being bored. If I’ve absolutely definitely exhausted all other aspects of my life for one day, and it’s still not quite bedtime, I might nip on Facebook for – ooh – maybe two minutes. Three tops. I don’t understand how people can spend hours at a time on it. Seriously, what’s the attraction? Anyway, as you might have guessed, tonight was one of those nights I logged in. I’ve only got twelve friends on my friends list, so having a quick scour doesn’t usually take me long. Some people might think having only twelve qualifies me as being low on friends. The truth is; I struggle to keep up with just the twelve. Three of them I haven’t even seen in the flesh since coming to Luton. I used to have thirteen friends, but Chantelle took me off her list when we split up. Chantelle has been on my mind quite a bit today actually. Once I’d checked my messages (none waiting), checked my wall (nothing there for me), and opted out of making a status (nothing much to say), I decided to type her name into the search engine and take a peek at what she’s been up to. The first thing I checked out was her relationship status. It still reads single, and that pleases me. Her wall, as it was this evening, is still the usual assortment of misspelled status reports and pictures of nights out. She seems to find the money to go out at least twice a week. And I don’t mean trips to the local for a quiet pint of Beagle’s Bonnet either. I mean the full monty type of night out; big groups of mates, revealing outfits, nightclubs, staggering into taxi’s etc etc. Myself and the office staff might be in mourning, but for Chantelle the good times just keep on rolling. According to Facebook Chantelle has 1456 friends, which might explain the need for a bare minimum of 104 nights out per year. If she sees 14 different friends per night then by my calculations she could theoretically get around all of those friends in exactly twelve months. To put that 1456 figure into perspective, it's bigger than the average gate of every football club in the Blue Square North and South, and at least nine clubs in the Blue Square Premier. More people follow Chantelle's life than former football league clubs Kidderminster and Barrow. As you might imagine, her ‘home’ page not short on activity. If you refresh it every few seconds or so, it almost resembles the vidiprinter from Football Focus. By contrast, I reckon I could happily journey around the world, come back, and still find the same crap on my home page that was there before I left. Out of curiosity, I clicked into Chantelle’s friends list to see if Nicky and Caroline are still on there. It was through those two I originally met Chantelle, but both their friendships with her fizzled out not long afterwards. I’ve never really known why, although it could just be that both girls got bored of only being invited out once every 104 times there was a night out happening. Naturally, when coming across Caroline’s name, I clicked to enter her profile. Shouldn’t it have been taken down after she died? Evidently not. In the blink of an eye I was transported straight from planet Chantelle to planet Caroline. Her profile is still on there, only now it’s deserted and unused. Derelict. Forgotten about. Caroline has (or had) 96 friends. More than me. Not as many as Chantelle. She fell just short of a century in the end, just as she fell short on most things in life, sadly. Her profile picture is of her and Nicky smiling cheek-to-cheek on some kind of social. Her relationship status says - “it’s complicated”, no doubt a teaser alerting people to the fact she’d met someone. All of it is quite chilling to look at now. What really gave me the creeps though was scanning my eyes down Caroline’s final wall activity. It was a mini conversation between her and some other girls. The date of the conversation is May 31st – the day she died. All the comments take place between 2.32pm and 4.08pm – hours before she died. ----------- Caroline Smith – is going out tonight with Mr Cuddly! May 31st at 2.32pm Wendy Forster – does he know it yet? Haha x May 31st at 2.41pm Caroline Smith – of course he does. It was his idea bless him! May 31st at 2.44pm Wendy Forster – have a good time hun x May 31st at 3.36pm Michelle Logan - Is that his real name? May 31st at 3.38pm Nicky Willacy – Nope. His real name begins with E apparently! May 31st at 3.45pm Caroline Smith – Shut it you! May 31st – 3.55pm Nicky Willacy – xx May 31st – 3.57pm Wendy Forster – E, eh? x May 31sr – 4.01pm Caroline Smith – Going now! Catch you later! Xx May 31s – 4.04pm Wendy Forster – Don’t do anything I wouldn’t x May 31st at 4.07pm Caroline Smith – Won’t. Bye x May 31st at 4.08pm ------------ Less than two hours later she was dead. Reading that convo almost me cry for the first time in weeks. Hard for me to cope with this. Or document it. What I can say is, straight after I logged off I went and lay on my bed fully clothed for absolutely ages. I just stared at the ceiling and daydreamed. About nothing in particular. I’ve never felt so uncomfortable with being alone. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
coloradogkb Posted August 9, 2011 Share Posted August 9, 2011 Stay strong James! Being alone is a lot better than being in a bad relationship. Chantelle is not the answer here. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 9, 2011 Author Share Posted August 9, 2011 10/07/10 - It's in the stars Today I caught a break from reality in one of the most unlikely ways imaginable. The sideshow began when Cassie of all people phoned to invite me over to the mansion. Apparently Dilic wanted to see me about something. She didn’t know what. Eighteen months ago I would have been s__tting a brick at the prospect of a ‘summons’ to the house of Dilic. These days though it’s like visiting a dotty old uncle, in this instance one who happens to talk funny. Not exactly having to reconfigure my social calendar to make time, I got in the car and headed over. I could just about remember the route. Dilic didn’t offer to send me the Merc this time. Maybe he only did it last time to make up for the warehouse thing? When I arrived, the guy in the hut opened the gates for me and I rolled slowly up the gravel driveway to a spot in front of the house. No sooner had I disembarked did Dilic’s butler come scurrying out to greet me. I remembered this guy from last time. Couldn’t remember his name, mind. “Good evening, Mr Martin. Do come in”. “Thanks err – “ “Ramsbottom, sir. At your service”. “Yeah that’s it. Been a while, you understand”. “Perfectly, sir”. Once we were in, Ramsbottom led me into the giant kitchen. Then he guided me through a door at the back of the kitchen which led to a set of stairs going downwards. “Mr Dilic is down there?” “Yes, sir. If you’d kindly follow me”. I’d half been hoping to bump into Cassie whilst I was here, however that seemed progressively unlikely the further we descended down the steep steps. If I’ve learnt anything from the fairy tales I read as a kid, it’s that the princess of the castle doesn’t hang out down in the grimy basement. Where we were going, by the way, was lit by a succession of lanterns set in niches on either wall. It suddenly crossed my mind that perhaps Dilic had brought me here to whack me for some reason. Indeed I was just beginning to go over potential circumstances under which he might do that when we reached a corridor at the bottom of the stairs. There were quite a few doors in this corridor but Ramsbottom stopped at the very first one on the right. Then he made his excuses to go back. Clearing my throat, I knocked twice and opened up. The door creaked like one of those old pirate treasure chests that haven’t been opened in a hundred years. A large cobweb brushed my shoulder I stepped beyond the threshold. Nice. “Ah, James!” said my host. “Hi, Dragomir” I replied, closing the door behind me. Again that creepy creak. Brute was also present. The two Serbians were stood in the middle of a huge rectangular room that might have been a cellar in previous life. It just had that cellar look about it. Dilic though had clearly converted the room into his storage space for all the exotic pets he keeps. Around the room were several glass tanks perched on top of tables. There must have been ten at least. All were covered with cloths so to hide whatever abominations lay lurking within. Despite the fact we were under the ground, plug sockets were situated at regular intervals along the walls. As you can imagine, with ten tanks to feed electricity to, extension leads wove patterns all over the floor. “Okay” I said, surveying the scene. “Just in case this is what I hope it isn’t, I swear I haven’t been doing anything with Cassie recently. Or ever, even!” “Relax, James” said Dilic, beckoning me over to one of the tanks. It was the second closest to me on the left. “I want to show you something”. He then said something to Brute in Serbian and the big tall bodyguard lifted off the cloth. Brute was wearing a black leather apron, by the way, that and some matching rubber gloves. He reminded me tonight of one of those creepy torture chamber guys in the film Hostel. Inside this particular tank was a small baby octopus, maybe the size of a cat. Its colours were a combination of gray and green and the thing seemed to hovering near the surface of the water. Resting on the sandy bottom were two boxes, separated from each other by maybe a foot. One said Luton Town on it and the other said Leyton Orient. I kid you not. “I presume you watched ze world cup” said Dilic boisterously. “Of course I did”. “Vell, you vud then have seen ze famous octopus vich has been correctly predicting ze world cup matches. I thought we could have our own, and zen ve vill gain valuable insight into ze results of our team this season”. “What good will that do?” “Vell, if my octopus, who iz called Ollie, by ze way, predicts defeat, then you vill know to try extra hard in your preparations to rubbish Ollie’s prediction”. The lord of the manor then turned and slapped me heartily on the shoulder. Was this it? Was this rubbish all I’d been dragged down here for? “Okay, Brute, give Ollie a nudge! His cue given, the big guy circled the tank and picked up a long oar type thing. Then he used it to ever so gently push Ollie under the water in the direction of the boxes. It looked like the gentlest thing Brute had ever done in his life. The slimy looking creature then sank to the very depths of his sanctuary, eventually wrapping his coils around.. The Luton Town box. “YES!” Dilic cried. “We’re going to win our first friendly! Hey, now you know you do not need to put in extra preparation!” “Brilliant” I told him flatly. “As it happens, I cannot make ze game next Monday night, but afterwards, please send me confirmation of ze win so I can remember to give Ollie extra treats for ze gift he has provided us with today”. “I will. Right. Yeah”. Thank God I’d driven here in my own car. It meant there was nothing stopping me leaving whenever I wanted. “Okay, Dragomir, thanks for showing me this but I’ve got a crucial meeting with a player later and I need to get going. I hope you don’t think I’m rude. I’ll catch you another time”. “Oh. Okay”. Permission to leave given (sort of), I turned on my heels and headed back to the door. Just before I got there however Dilic said one more thing. “Hey!” he began, gesturing with his arm to the rest of the room. “Before you go, seeing as you’re here, vud you like a guided tour of ze rest of my lovely animals, perhaps? You never know when we may get zis opportunity again". “No I’m good, Dragomir, thanks”. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 10, 2011 Author Share Posted August 10, 2011 12/07/10 - All quiet on the Luton front Today, thank god, the football was back. Not the real stuff. Not yet. But right now I’ll take any football I can get if it takes my mind off you-know-what. The visitors were Leyton Orient, sure to provide a stern test. This being a Monday, our first friendly this year would be a night match. Kick off 7.45pm. I still like to think that our summer ‘spending’ spree isn’t quite finished yet. As it happens I’m still at the time of writing waiting to hear on more potential signings. In the meantime I’m happy to go with what I’ve got and see what happens. Even if I don’t manage to capture any more players before the league season starts, I still think I’ve got enough quality in the squad to at least achieve that necessary mid-table placing. Funnily enough, tonight’s starting eleven was made up entirely of players from the Conference winning squad. The one exception was loan goalkeeper Stubhaug. The rest of them; Byrne, James, Hogarth, Gnakpa, Daniels, Keane, Nicholls, Taylor, Bowditch, and Cadamateri, none of them really need an introduction. My other newbie, McKerr, was on the bench. As was Spencer. The team walked out to Out of Touch by Hall and Oates. We were in our new orange home kit, league One Leyton Orient their away day blue. The crowd was sparse compared to what we’re used to. I’d say there was maybe two thousand tops inside fortress Kenilworth. I wasn’t far wrong as it turned out. Sadly, before the game started, there was one final reminder of my current off-the-field troubles. The stadium announcer declared there would be a one minute’s silence for who he described as former Luton Town backroom staff member Caroline Smith, who sadly died on May 31st. As the crowd rose to their feet, players in both orange and blue lined up around the outside of the centre circle in readiness. Then the music was turned off and the referee blew his whistle. I’d had prior knowledge this was going to happen but I’d forgotten about it for at least a day or so (if you follow me). In eerie silence, I l briefly looked at Brian and then bowed my head. The ground was suddenly so quiet you could hear distant cars going past. The big irony of course was that most of the people who knew and were friends with Caroline weren’t even here. 99.9% of the people who were here had probably never even heard her name before. This however was probably the only chance I would ever get to pay my respects in an official capacity. We’d missed out on the funeral because Caroline’s parents had insisted it be a strictly family affair up in Peterborough. I couldn’t believe that when I found that out. Brenda it was who’d called them. Good job I didn’t or I probably would have lost my rag. I think the fact we weren’t allowed to go has contributed hugely to the dour atmosphere in the office. We’re not just grieving we’re feeling hard done by. I didn’t, by the way, think to invite Brenda, Nicky, and Katrina to tonight’s friendly. I probably deserve a clip around the ear for that. As the minute’s silence ticked towards its conclusion, I just had time to once again reflect on how utterly ridiculous it is that she’s no longer here. It’s crazy. Twenty two years old and already dead. Shot in the back. Probably because some cretin couldn’t afford a pack of fags and decided to rob someone. I just can’t get to grips with it. The second whistle finally sounded and the crowd roared. It was over. Time to get on with the football. The players from both teams retreated into their own halves and we were about to get underway. “Are you alright?” Brian asked. “No”. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 11, 2011 Author Share Posted August 11, 2011 12/07/10, Friendly Match 1 Luton Town v Leyton Orient GK - Lars Stubhaug DL - Richie Byrne DR - Claude Gnakpa DC - Tony James DC - Harry Hogarth DMC - Kevin Nicholls MC - Keith Keane ML - Charlie Daniels MR - Michael Taylor FC - Dean Bowditch FC - Danny Cadamateri Keane went sliding in feet first from the kick off and my third season was officially underway. After that little incident however the majority of the first fifteen minutes passed me by. My head was still in the one minute silence. Indeed it took a Leyton Orient goal to properly wake me up. It came after 17 minutes. Best went up for a header with James but lost out. The ball went away to Chambers and he fed it forwards again, this time to Thornton. The midfielder burst forward with pace until confronted by Hogarth. At this juncture he sold the young Hoagy a dummy before hammering a right footed shot that Stubhaug could only parry weakly into the corner of his goal. Not a good a start for the debutant. It certainly wasn’t brill by any stretch (wink). At least we could claim our opponents were one league higher. That was one thing. The first Luton attack came on 22. Daniels got the crowd excited going on a little run and winning a corner. In it went from Nicholls. Up went Bowditch, beating two O’s defenders to the header. The ball clipped the bar and just went over. Next it was Bowditch again. This time the strike ace controlled a long ball from Gnakpa just inside the area. Two defenders were all over him – again – and Bowditch was forced to hit a quick snapshot. Actually it was more like a chip. It might have gone in had it been on target but the ball dropped a yard wide. It was encouraging to see us take the game to Orient like this but it was always unlikely to last against such a quality side. The rest of the half was first tight for a period and then heavily in favour of our opponents. Best and Elito both missed presentable opportunities before Williams won a penalty three minutes before the break. It was Byrne who brought him down. No argument from me on the call. Williams himself stepped up to take the penalty. This was a golden chance for Stubhaug to endear himself to the Luton fans. Only trouble was, Williams didn’t play fair. The pen was so far in the top corner there was no way any keeper would have got close to it. I bet Williams will struggle to hit one that sweetly once the league season gets going! -------- HT - 0-2 -------- Nil-Two down at the break felt a bit on the harsh side. I’m used to it in friendly games though so I didn’t lay into the players much at the break. In fact I didn’t lay into them at all. I was probably too busy wondering what Dilic was going to do to Ollie the octopus once he realised he was a fraud. Five minutes into the second period I made several random substitutions. Partly this was because the majority of my players aren’t fully fit. It was also so I could claim to the press I wasn’t bothered about the result because I hadn’t been trying for one (wink no 2). On went Kearns, Gill, Niven, Buckley, plus a bunch of youngsters I hopefully won’t need when the real stuff starts. Just for the record, these players were Fletcher, Deeney, Watkins, and Tanner. The Orient boss responded by pulling his own ‘Sven’, and soon there were more subs on the field than starters. Remarkably we coped with this better than they did. In the 53rd minute Bowditch pulled a goal back for us, steering a downwards header into the corner from a Watkins cross. Then it got even better! 64 minutes and a second goal for Bowditch, this time a poke home from twelve yards after keeper Jarvis saved his initial effort. Niven had set up the chance with a lovely little chip over the defence. Was there a famous victory in the brewing? I almost wished I could bring some of my original players back on. The match was now edgy for the first time. Orient didn’t like being pegged back to two-two and wanted a winner. So did we actually. Watkins rifled a long ranger over the bar before Naysmith forced the first really good save out of Stubhaug. The Norwegian didn’t catch it but it was going too fast for that. Most importantly, he kept it out. Gnakpa then stepped in and completely the clearance. Really good game this now. The final ten minutes were frantic. First us and then them piled forward trying to grab the winner. Maybe Ollie would be getting his treat tonight after all? Or not. With just minutes left, Deeney was robbed forty yards out and Bell scurried forwards with the ball. He still had James in front of him but Bell laid it diagonally right to Robson and now Orient had what you would call a proper run on goal. In a chilling demonstration of what life in League One is probably like week in week out, Robson hammered across Stubhaug into the far corner. Game, set, and match. A few minutes later and the players were trudging off in defeat. As defeats go however, this wasn’t a bad one. We’d pushed a good side very close and improved our fitness levels tenfold in the process. And the fact Bowditch had seemingly discovered his goal-scoring form extremely early doors was a bonus. My record in friendlies is now 1 win in 13. -------- FINAL SCORE (att - 2170) Luton Town 2 (Bowditch 53, 64) Leyton Orient 3 (Thornton 17, Williams 42pen, Robson 88) -------- Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 12, 2011 Author Share Posted August 12, 2011 13/07/10 - Boost for the economy I was called into Bob’s office this afternoon. The acting chairman was waiting for me wearing neither grimace nor smile, making me instantly curious as to what he wanted. “Hi, James” he said. “Hi, Bob”. Studiously I sat down. There were no clues on Bob’s desk as to what the meeting was about. It was empty save for the South African cask of wine just off to one side. Bob had either no work to do today or had stashed it all in his drawer before inviting me in. For a while he didn’t speak. The two of us just sat there in stony silence. He didn’t say anything and I didn’t push him. His eyes were focused on a spot just below my chin, a safe enough place to glare at someone. The delay made me tax myself even harder as to what could possibly be so bad as to make Bob scared to get on with it. Obviously it wasn’t good news or he’d be talking already. Then again, in my experience Bob’s never been one to shirk away from dishing out the bad news either. He usually does it with a good natured smile on his face too. So if it wasn’t good news and it wasn’t bad news, it had to be something that had thrown Bob completely out of his comfort zone. Only one thing has thrown people out of their comfort zone around here recently, and that’s the Caroline murder. “Let me guess” I began, successfully drawing his eyes up level with my own. “The time has come to replace Caroline”. “Yes it is” he replied solemnly. “Well – don’t act so down about it, Bob. I’ve got no objections. Don’t walk on eggshells around me. I’m cool”. “Okay”. Bob made to reach for the wine but his hand twitched halfway there and inexplicably retreated. Shame. I could have done with a tipple right now. Contrary to outward appearances, I was anything but ‘cool’ over the prospect of replacing Caroline. “So how are you going to go about this?” I asked. “Well, the advertisement has already been drawn up and distributed to the usual outlets. Once we have some suitable candidates we’ll bring them in for interview”. “You didn’t need to bring me in to tell me this, Bob. An e-mail would have sufficed”. “Well actually I did need to bring you in. Myself and Erica have been chatting about it and we’re both of the opinion you should be the one to conduct the interviews”. “What?” The acting chairman shuffled in his seat slightly. He was starting to morph back into his old quick-talking self now. “James, it’s not lost on anyone in this building that the true ruler of the communal office is not me but you. You see more of the day to day operations in there than I do. Therefore you should be the one to do the hiring. And on top of that, you were Caroline’s friend! It just seems right that, under the circumstances, you should be the one to appoint her replacement”. It’s amazing the extra trust you get once you’ve graduated into the slighty-tricky-employee-to-replace club. I could have argued I don’t get paid to interview office staff, but to have done so here would have been to insult Caroline’s memory. Of course I would accept the honour of finding someone to take over her duties! “I’m not going to be able to get someone as good as she was, Bob”. “You don’t need to. You just need to get someone who can do the job. And anyway, you’re only coming in at the interview stage. By the time things have progressed that far, only the very cream of the crop will be still in with a chance of getting the job. I’ll make sure of that”. “How long until I’m needed for this?” “A week. Maybe two. I’ll forward the details of the successful candidates to Brenda and she can take things from there, arrange an afternoon for you to see them. Just out of curiosity, how many, roughly, do you think you’d like to see at the interview stage? It's entirely up to you". “No more than five, Bob. I’m going to be very busy between now and the start of the season proper”. “Okay. Five it is”. Gist of the meeting over, I got to my feet and headed for the door. Bob had one more thing to add. “Oh!" he called out. "James, I know it’s your business to recruit players all the time but things are slightly different when it comes to office personnel. On the assumption you’ve never done this before, if you need any tips or advice on how to go about your interview techni – “ “Don’t need any” I firmly retorted. “I’ll know the person I need to replace Caroline with once I've spent five minutes with them. I’ll just know it”. Bob studied me for a moment and then leaned back, satisfied. “Okay, James. Okay”. Without further word I walked out. 'God I wish he'd offered me some of that wine'. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 13, 2011 Author Share Posted August 13, 2011 15/07/10 - Hatters Arms shelter I managed to get down The Hatters tonight for a swift one. Naturally, instead of discussing team affairs, Brian and I couldn’t help be drawn towards the issue of the forthcoming interviews. In my hand I had a pint of Rabbit’s arse, in his a pint of The beer with no name. We were sat at our usual seats in the far corner. “So what sort of person have you got in mind?” Brian asked. “No idea until I see the candidates. In principal though, and as discriminatory as this is going to sound, I’ve been thinking along the lines of replacing Caroline with another woman”. “Oh I see what your game is!” Brian put both hands up to his nipples and pretended to be lifting up some huge imaginary boobs. Simultaneously, he winked at me. “No it’s not like that!” I hastily told him. “What do you think I am? A sleaze? No, the reason I’m thinking of picking a woman is because it might better suit the dynamic of the office. It’s not just a case of whether I think the prospective candidate can do the role. I also have to think how he or she is going to fit into the team. As it happens, I think the communal office has always suited having slightly more women than men. Can’t really explain why. Just is”. “Okay, but what if all the female interviewees turn out to be mediocre but there’s one guy in there who’s absolute top notch?” “Then obviously I’ll pick him. Chances are though it’ll just be a bunch of undistinguishable people with similar qualifications and a similar ranges of experiences”. My companion nodded thoughtfully and supped some more of his beer-with-no-name. “Doubt it will be easy for whoever gets it, having to replace someone who died”. “Starting a new job is never easy” I interjected. “Oh I dunno! Personally I’ve always enjoyed moving to a new club. You’ve got the freshness, the novelty factor, the increase in pay – usually! – the new people all welcoming you, the enjoyment of doing your new house up, trying out the local pubs, seeing what the town centre is like. To be honest, I think the only exception to the rule was probably when I came here. I was slightly nervous coming here with it being a bigger club than the likes of Cambridge, Boston etc”. “The only club I didn’t enjoy settling in at was Halifax. At all the others, I felt the exact same all round feeling of freshness you just described”. “What was wrong with Halifax?” “It was full of plebs. The team I mean”. Gimme Shelter by The Rolling Stones had just come on. My head instinctively turned towards the jukebox and that was when I spotted Brenda across the other side of the room. She was all dressed up and sat with some guy, also in his fifties. They had a bottle of red out, and unless I was misreading the situation, looked to be on some kind of date. “Look at this” I said, nodding with my head. Brian took a quick peak over his shoulder and then turned back. “New guy?” he asked. “Dunno. First time I’ve ever seen her with anyone, to be honest!” “Might be knock-on effect of the Caroline thing”. “What do you mean?” “Well, sometimes the death of someone you know can give you a kind of kick up the backside, make you crack on with things in life that previously you kept putting off. Maybe she’s suddenly deciding to live her life a bit more? If so then good for her. Don’t tell her I said this but she’s not getting any younger”. “I suppose". "Certainly looks like they're having a good time". "So? So are we". Draining my cup with two big gulps, I glanced down at Brian’s glass and saw he’d already finished. We’d reached that tricky point in the evening now where a decision would have to made as to whether we stayed for a second. I knew I was up for a second. But was my wingman? “Yeah go on then” he said, after briefly umming and erring. “But only because I want to hear what was so bad about playing for Halifax!” “I’ll be happy to tell you when I get back from the bar. What you having?” “Ooh, I’ll try the witch of the south this time”. “Good choice. Coming right up then”. Reaching into my pocket for change, I got up and headed for the bar. In the process I caught Brenda’s eye and gave her a nod. In return she first looked embarrassed to have seen me and then waved. After that, in readiness, my brain began to return to The Shay Stadium, home of FC Halifax Town. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
salkster2102 Posted August 14, 2011 Share Posted August 14, 2011 It was just the players who are plebs? Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
mcglede Posted August 14, 2011 Share Posted August 14, 2011 Be careful talking down about the mighty Shaymen there Scottlee. Why am I thinking Cyril will apply for the office job?? Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 15, 2011 Author Share Posted August 15, 2011 Yeah okay, maybe the stewards too. An interesting guess! We'll have to see in the coming updates if it pans out. -------- 16/07/02 - Head tennis I felt very grown up when I joined Halifax. I was twenty three years old, was well established in my law firm, earning money, driving a car etc. Joining a new football team, even after a year out of the game, held no fear for me. It was just something to do in my spare time now (and to top up my income, of course). A pastime. Child’s play. No great shakes. Funny how the game becomes easier once you’ve accepted you’ll never make it to The Premiership. The day I first visited the ground was also the day of my first training session. I didn’t need a trial or any messing about. They wanted me on reputation alone and that was a good feeling. That said, when I first parked up and got out the car, nobody was there to meet me. I had to stumble blindly around all four sides of the ground like a lost tourist, until finally I bumped into the Shay equivalent of Fred and he showed me how to get to the changing rooms. As my guide then went off to inform manager Mike Brass that I’d arrived, I changed into some shorts and a sweatshirt and also put my socks and boots on. All the other players had apparently gone out to the pitch already. Brass arrived a couple of minutes after I was ready. He was a short, stocky man, maybe five foot five. He had brown hair and a bushy moustache of matching colour. He was dressed in blue jeans and a patterned multi-coloured (mostly dark) jumper. “James Martin?” “That’s me”. “Good to meet you!” He smiled and we shook hands. “Listen” he continued. “I’m late for a meeting so all I’m going to do for now is introduce you to the players and then I’ll catch up with you properly later in the week. We’ll have a more in-depth chat then. Okay?” “Sure”. “Good man!” Brass gestured me towards the door and I followed, boots clip-clopping against the concrete as I walked. The pitch was only a few yards away from the changing room doors. Within seconds my feet were on grass and the other players were in sight. The majority of them were limbering up in a circle near the centre circle. They were an odd looking bunch. On glimpsing them for the first time I was reminded of a newspaper article I’d read recently when England played Denmark in the 2002 world cup. The journalist doing the piece had pointed out that England’s players were noticeably much more photogenic than Denmark’s. Two team-line ups had been put side by side for comparison. Even though I’m hardly qualified to judge the looks of men, I’d had to agree in this instance the majority of the Danish players were anything but attractive. Halifax’s squad looked even worse than Denmark’s. Strolling up to that centre circle with Brass the first time, I felt like I was joining a casting session for Lord of the Rings. There were all sorts of odd sizes and shapes - ogres, trolls, hobbits, the lot. ‘Ah, the diverse world of non-league football’. “Lads” Brass called out in a booming voice. “This is James Martin, the lad I told you about. Say hello now” “Hi" everyone said in a big slow drawl. There's nothing like enthusiasm. As Brass’ attention was then diverted by the fitness coach, my eyes began to properly take in the surroundings. The ground was about on a par with Morecambe’s. Maybe slightly better. Not much to choose between the two. If I absolutely had to pick a winner though, then yeah, I’d probably plumb for – Wallop! Nothing quite distracts you from your thoughts like a football smacking into the side of your head. That hurt! Putting one hand up to my cheek, I looked around to see who had thrown it. Thankfully it wasn’t hard to identify the culprit. He was stood in a group of three and had given the game away by holding his hands up to his two buddies as if to say – “What can I say? I’m a good shot”. The other two were laughing their heads off. Nobody else was laughing because nobody else had seen it. As aforementioned, Brass was talking to the fitness coach. The rest of the players, once the manager had finished introducing me, had all turned away into their little cliques, most of them still stretching and trying to loosen up. The thrower was another midget, maybe five foot four this time. He had long curly black hair and ears like a rodent’s. One of his buddies was almost entirely the opposite – six foot seven, bald, not much in the way of ears etc, whereas the third guy was relatively normal looking. At least by Halifax FC standards. Anyway, no way was I going to let this pass. Once the thrower had turned his back on me I picked up another football from the nearby bag and gave him one back. Twice as hard. The force of it almost knocked him off his feet. Indeed his two buddies even had to intervene to keep him upright. In a state of shock, the midget turned around and looked at me open-mouthed. “Next time you throw a ball at my neck I’m going to kill you” I told him. “Mother - “ Snarling, he came at me. Fine with me! Without hestitation I stepped forwards to meet him in the middle. The second sound of football-hitting-skull however had alerted everyone’s attention to what was happening, and before me and the midget could get to each other, hands and arms were coming in from all sides to keep us apart. “Hey hey hey!” said Brass, as the fire subsided. “That’s enough of that! If you can’t get on with each other then f__k off home! That goes for all of you! Now go on, enough p_ssing about. Three laps round pitch! Off you go!” Despite much answering back to this, the players all eventually obeyed. I didn’t immediately do the same. “Don’t you worry about them” Brass said, spotting the look of consternation on my face. “We’re all one big happy family here at’ Shay! You’ll soon settle in. Now go on, off you trot!” “I just want you to know I really appreciate the chance to come here" I told him "I do. I’m gonna try and do really well for you”. Brass smiled, then began to turn and head back to the changing rooms. “Break a leg” he called back jollily. For a few moments I watched him go. Then I took a sniff of the afternoon air and let the wind hit my face. Despite my words to the manager, I had a strong instinct here to just head back to the car and leave this place behind. Something in my gut told me I might have stumbled into a bad egg amongst football clubs. And yet, I also knew deep down there was never any serious chance of me just taking off. Beginning with a slow scurry and then upping it to a swift jog, I moved to catch up with the others. 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ScottleeSV Posted August 16, 2011 Author Share Posted August 16, 2011 16/07/10 - Footnote It was another drab day in the communal offices. Looking back on it, I could probably count the amount of sentences spoken between Brenda, Nicky, and myself on just two hands. Whatever the reasons, still nobody’s talking very much. With our second friendly against Coventry coming up tomorrow, I spent some of the afternoon doing my programme notes. Whereas this is usually a task I rush through in fifteen to twenty minutes, today I spent some serious time on it. The minute’s silence against Leyton Orient got me thinking that maybe I could say a few words about Caroline in one of my pieces. Below is what I came up with. Good afternoon and a very warm welcome to Kenilworth Road for our second friendly of the season against Coventry City.I was very encouraged by the performance against Leyton Orient in our opening game and hope you were too. Although we lost the match, it was a very close run thing against a side much more accustomed to playing a higher standard of football than we are. If we can produce in League Two the levels we produced on Monday night on a consistent basis, I definitely think we’ll be a force to be reckoned with. In response to the continued criticisms that we haven’t signed enough players this pre-season, let me remind you that our summer shopping is far from done. There is still a month to go before our first league game, and by the time that big day comes around, I fully expect we will have added two or three more to our number. As those who were at the game will know, the club held a minute’s silence on Monday for former employee Caroline Smith, who sadly passed away a few weeks ago. As someone who knew Caroline very well, I would like to finish my notes today by saying a few quick words about who she was and what she contributed whilst she was with us. Caroline’s role was primarily as the club’s ticket sales administrator. She organised the administration of season tickets, matchday tickets, supporter’s coach places, plus many more small duties. If you’re a regular attendee of Luton Town matches home or away, chances are you probably knew Caroline (sort of), even if you never really realised it. She was one of the club’s unsung heroes, working tirelessly behind the scenes without ever getting much credit for it. To know her as a person was a privilege I and many others at Kenilworth Road will greatly miss. She was courteous, intelligent, bubbly, reliable, punctual, unflappable in a crisis, and most of all, just a really good friend. That she was only 22 years old when she died is an absolute tragedy. Enjoy today’s game and the season to come, but please also remember Caroline and the loss we’ve suffered. That’s all. Enjoy today’s game and make some noise! James Martin I also quite fancied the idea of having Caroline’s face on the front cover, but Bob balked. He also insisted I cut from my final piece a request for information on Caroline’s killer. Once that and my other work was done for the day I stood up and prepared to leave. Brenda and Nicky were still here, not that I would have noticed if they hadn't been. “Did anyone watch Coronation Street last night?” I asked to no one in particular. “I usually do but I missed it last night” Brenda answered. “I had some issues with Rory”. My coat now fully on, I turned my head towards Nicky. She however only solemnly shook her head to indicate she also hadn’t seen it. For a few seconds I stood in front of my desk looking down at my feet, wondering if there was anything else to say. Nothing came to me so I took my leave. It was only when I got in my car I realised I possibly could have asked what those ‘Rory issues’ actually consisted of, just to keep the conversation going a little longer. In fact, in the old days I’m pretty sure I would have done. ‘Old days? Jesus, they were only a friggin month and a half ago’. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 17, 2011 Author Share Posted August 17, 2011 17/07/10, Friendly Match 2 Luton Town v Coventry City GK – Lars Stubhaug DL – Richie Byrne DR – Claude Gnakpa DC – Tony James DC – Harry Hogarth DMC – Kevin Nicholls MC – Keith Keane ML – Charlie Daniels MR – Michael Taylor FC – Danny Cadamateri FC – Dean Bowditch Pleased with the performance against Orient, I stuck with the same team for Coventry. We managed 56 points the last time we were in League Two, and with a much less settled side than this one. Even if worst comes to the worst and I don’t manage to bring any more players in between now and Darlington (our first league opponents), I still think we’ll comfortably score 60 points or more. Don’t quote me on that one. The trouble with playing a team like Coventry of course is that 1 win in 13 was always likely to become 1 in 14. I don’t like facing off against these goliath sides. I still have nightmares about the 0-5 loss to Stoke last pre-season. Anyway, to the beat of Fool’s Gold by The Stone Roses, we ran out intent on improving our record. The Sky Blues predictably began the strongest. Strikers Mifsud and Morrison caused havoc in the opening stages. Mifsud forced two good saves out of Stubhaug whereas Morrison just ran the full backs ragged. Constantly. He seems to have the ability to teleport from one wing to the other without anyone noticing. As we huffed and puffed and did our best to preserve our goal, I had a quick look around to see I could see any fans reading my programme notes. Couldn’t see any. Nobody looked bored enough. F__k’s sake! After several near misses, the Championship side finally opened the scoring bang on the half hour. We’d done well to survive up to that point but then a Mcindoe cross found the head of Howard. He literally thundered in a bullet header that was still rising even as it hit the roof of the netting. One-nil to Coventry. Then something remarkable happened. Having not been in the game one iota, Keane set Cadameteri on his way down the inside left channel. The striker cut back inside onto his right foot and defender Mears slipped. Taking advantage, Cadders slammed one in the near post and we were level again. The half-hearted roar that greeted the goal served to remind me just how poor the crowds are in these games. For the rest of the half though Coventry looked visibly shaken. Nicholls, Taylor, and Cadamateri all produced good moments on the ball. Taylor might have even sent us to the interval with an unlikely lead. Nicholls laid him on just inside the area but he fired narrowly over. -------- HT - 1-1 -------- I wasn’t quite sniffing a win at this juncture but I was certainly happy it didn’t look like we were going to be subjected to a cricket score. Following a formula that had its origins in guest ale corner, I sent my subs on five minutes later than they’d gone on against Orient. In the next friendly after this one I’ll be sending them on an additional five minutes later. It’s all about gradually pushing our best players further and further each time. Coventry made subs too but it wasn’t quite the dramatic overall Orient went for at the same stage on Monday. The visitors were still able to dominate possession and create the majority of the openings. By the time the hour mark came and went our strong spell prior to half time was a distant memory. For the record, the Luton subs were Kearns, Gill, Spencer, Niven, Beavon, Watkins, and Fletcher (goalie). I didn’t make a note of the Coventry subs. Oh, except one, who went by the name of Adams. Remember that name because it will be coming up again in a minute. Remembered it? Good. Then we'll continue.. There was just nine minutes left when Coventry got their winner, immediately evoking memories of the conclusion to the previous match. Dann laid a ball square to Morrison and he carried it towards the retreating centre backs. Morrison tried to shoot but somehow the ball jammed under the heel of James, barely six yards forwards of where it had been struck. Then it squirmed out sideways into the path of Adams. Adams scored. Morrison missed a chance to get a goal of his own soon afterwards but it was us who had the final attempt. Spencer, arching his neck backwards, got his head on a Taylor cross but his looping header was caught relatively comfortably by Westwood under the crossbar. 1-2 was a decent enough full time score though to say we were playing a side two divisions higher. I applauded the players as they come off and the crowd in turn applauded all of us. “Thank you!” I shouted into the stands as I headed towards the tunnel. “And don’t forget to read today’s programme!” 1/14 -------- FINAL SCORE (att - 2674) Luton Town 1 (Cadamateri 32) Coventry City 2 (Howard 30, Adams 81) -------- Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 18, 2011 Author Share Posted August 18, 2011 19/07/10 - In vogue Throughout most of Sunday and the first half of today, I put the finishing touches to my summer shopping. I’ve managed to add three more players to the squad. First up is seventeen year old Dorien Moore from Southend, on loan. He’s a centre back and apparently a great prospect for the future. I also recruited a striker, this one a freebie. Louis Dodds his name is. He’s twenty three and comes from Port Vale. Third up, left winger Glenn Poole from Brentford. Poole is a twenty nine year old veteran of the lower leagues who I distinctly remember running rings around us the last time we were in League Two. He should be good back-up for Daniels on that left hand side. In effect, Poole is the replacement for Easton and Moore the replacement for Pilkington. Like Dodds, Poole joins on a permanent deal. Going in the opposite direction, Frost, McCracken, Quinn, and Hogarth, in a combination of frees and loan deals. Frost and Hogarth are the ones for whom I may yet call back. As for Quinn and McCracken, they’re goners. Finished. Left the building. -------- This afternoon, as I sat going over my budgets wondering if there was maybe room for one more signing, Brian poked his head around the door to the communal offices. “James, can I borrow you for a minute?” “Sure”. Perfectly in keeping with recent form, neither Nicky nor Brenda looked up as I left. “What can I do for you?” I asked, No sooner had the question left my mouth did I spot the copy of Zoo magazine under Brian’s arm. If you’re unaware what Zoo is, I’ll tell you. Basically it’s a seedy British magazine for guys. Whilst not quite explicit enough to be classed as porn, it’s still full of titillating photos of women, albeit in their underwear. Sometimes they're topless, sometimes not. There’s also the odd article here and there about football, or the latest scene music, or some other random stuff. Mostly though it’s about the women. “Since when have you been a fan of Zoo?” I asked disbelievingly. “I’m not. I took it off McKerr up in the canteen”. “Free copy? Nice!” “James, there’s something in here you need to see”. “I’ll bet there is!” “Yeah. Anyway. It’s err a special feature. It’s called err - Bedroom babes who’ve slept with football managers”. Brian was sweating. Right here in the corridor. Furthermore, I hadn’t seen sweating as bad as this since Dave used to work here. Brian looked like a fourteen year old boy indulging in his first ever day of peaking at a woman’s naughty bits. “Brian” I said with a smile. “You don’t need to appeal to my sense of vocational pride to get me interested in a Zoo feature". “I don’t think you understa – “ “What page is it?” “Err, it begins on page forty seven and then goes from there”. “Right”. Temporarily lodging my coffee precariously under one armpit, I used my actual hands to flick through the magazine. “You know what?” Brian said, disrupting my flow. “I don’t think I want to be around you when you see this. I’m gonna take off. I’ll catch you la – “ “Give up!” I said quickly. “Don’t tell me you’re embarrassed to look at semi-naked women around other men?” “No, it’s just that – “ “I'll tell you what, I bet one of these managers is Terry Venables. You can tell he’s a sly old dog is Venables just from looking at him. I bet he’s had his fair share of dolly birds over the years. It was only a matter of time before one came out the woodwork sooner or later”. I’d finally reached the right page now. Bedroom babes who’ve slept with football managers it was called, just as Brian had said. Talk about tacky. The ‘babe’ first up was a busty redhead posing lengthways on a back garden swing. Beneath the picture was a smaller picture, a different shot of the woman. Then, underneath that, some writing. This bit seemed to be an account of how the redhead had met their particular football manager, in this instance a French second division boss I’d never heard of. “I should have known the actual managers would be complete nobodies”. “James, listen – “ “Oh hush up man! You know what? Let me tell you something. When I lived in shared housing we used to have a golden rule. The rule was that whenever somebody was reading Zoo in the living room, nobody was allowed to disrupt their concentration”. My assistant glanced nervously left and right but didn’t reply again. After turning onto the next page meanwhile, I balanced the open magazine over one arm and took my coffee out from my armpit. Then I took a good long swig. The next featured babe was a blonde. Nice legs. Slim body. Impressive boobs. Come to think of it, she looked quite famil... It was at that moment I spat my coffee up all over both Brian and the nearby wall. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
STFCDP1990 Posted August 19, 2011 Share Posted August 19, 2011 She could have atleast had some class and posed for Nuts! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 19, 2011 Author Share Posted August 19, 2011 ---------------- 19/07/10 - In vogue (part 2) I couldn’t believe my eyes. Brian meanwhile remained silent. Head bowed. As with the previous page there were two pictures, one large and one smaller. In this instance, the larger one featured Chantelle lying face down on a double bed. The top half of her body was slanted upwards so her face and boobs were visible. Thankfully she was wearing a bra. And knickers. Both items were the same dark shade of pink. Down the foot of the bed her legs were tilted vertically in the air. On her feet she was wearing a pair of black high heel shoes, one of which was dangling half off the foot it was attached to. As for the bedroom, it looked homely (probably not a studio), but it certainly wasn’t hers. In the smaller photo she was standing pressed up against the frame of a doorway with her hands leaning high above her head. She wasn’t wearing the bra in this one but you still couldn’t see her nipples due to the angle of the camera. Maybe she was saving the full frontal for next time? Once my brain had fully processed the photographs, I turned my attention to the writing underneath. Next in our bedroom babes is Chantelle Jackson, 24, from Croydon. Chantelle met her football manager just under a year ago, and was only too happy to talk to Zoo about her experience.“I met him down the local pub near the ground. He seemed quite young for a football manager, but he was a nice guy on the whole and not bad looking. I thought at the time what the hell; I’ll give it a go and see what happens. So after a couple of dates, one thing led to the other and that’s how we started going out”. But after a fast start to the match, it wasn’t long before feisty Chantelle began to feel decidedly underwhelmed.. “I guess it dawned on me, a few months in, that I just felt really bored with how things were going. I’m a party girl at heart. I love going out and being sociable, and having a good time. He wasn’t anything like that though. He was just a complete bore. His idea of a good time was sitting in the local pub with his assistant manager talking about guest ales. And it wasn’t much better when we were around each other’s houses either. He used to sit there scribbling down match formations and various other geeky things, and most of the time me and my son just got ignored all the time”. Chantelle was also less than impressed with her football manager’s fitness training techniques.. “Don’t even get me started on that. He was useless. I thought it might have been nerves at first, but after a few months I kind of started to realise that, yeah, this was probably as good as it was gonna get. In the end I started making excuses not to do it”. And with post match analysis that bad, it was only inevitable that Chantelle’s football manager would soon be heading for the sack.. “I can’t remember how many months I suffered in silence, feeling unhappy, but in the end I just had to get rid. He wasn’t happy about it. In fact he literally got down on his knees and begged me not to end it once I broke the news. It was a really pathetic sight. He was just a pathetic man in general really”. And since taking her ex off the field of play, Chantelle has never looked back.. “I can’t even describe how great it’s been to get my independence back. I really didn’t realise until I left that relationship just how suffocated I felt when I was in it. My advice to any girl in the same situation would just be this – have the courage to get out. You won’t regret it. If it’s not right then it’s not right. No good kidding yourself it will get better”. But despite her experience, Chantelle refuses to rule out another football-themed romance in the future.. “If I had the chance to meet another football manager, or a footballer, would I automatically turn it down because of past experiences? No, not necessarily. I don’t believe it’s right to tar people with the same brush. Just because one person in the industry turns out to be an arsehole, doesn’t mean they’re all going to be like that. You’ve got to know how to rationalise things in life”. So finally, if Chantelle had any advice for a prospective suitor hoping to take her home, what would that be? “Sense of humour, sense of fun, and most of all, just be yourself! And if you’ve got all that, who knows, you might get lucky”. One man who certainly won’t feel lucky when he sees these sizzling photos is Chantelle’s ex. This was definitely one match he got his tactics completely tits up! Placing my coffee cup on the nearby waste paper bin, I folded the magazine shut and handed it back. “Slanderous isn’t?” Brian broke the silence with. “Or libellous. One of the two. Are you gonna have words with her?” “No I’m not going to have words with her” I replied calmly, walking towards reception. “I’M GONNA GODAMN THROTTLE HER!” “Hey, we’ve got training in half an hour!” “Take it your damn self!” Before he could reply again my car keys were out and I was gone. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 20, 2011 Author Share Posted August 20, 2011 19/07/10 - My baby shot me down (‘All the leaves are brown and the sky is gray, I’ve been for a walk on a winter’s day’) Enraged, I drove straight to Chantelle’s place and parked up across the other side of the road. I couldn’t park on her side because there weren’t any spaces. (‘I’d be safe and warm if I was in L.A. California dreamin’ – California dreaming - on such a winter’s day’) Just as I killed both the ignition and the radio, I spotted Chantelle in my wing mirror. She was leaving the corner shop fifty yards down the street. Good stroke of luck that. Having out it with her in the street was definitely preferable to doing it on the doorstep where Luke might witness it. Winding my window down, I waited patiently for Chantelle to come close enough to the car so I could call her over. Swinging her carrier bag backwards and forwards like a pendulum and ambling along in something of a daze, she didn’t seem to have spotted me yet. She looked different today. Different to what I remember anyway. Judging by her appearance, I quickly guessed she’d spent whatever fee she’d received for the Zoo shoot on new clothes and accessories. If was also as if, at the point she realised she needed to go out for milk, she'd figured she better dress up some just in case a Sky news van came spinning around the corner to ask her about those revelations. Anyway, she was within range now. Time to burst her bubble. “Oi! Kelly Brook!” I called out. Startled from whatever private daydream she’d been in, Chantelle flinched and looked around for the origin of the voice. She almost did a double take when she saw it was me. She didn’t shy away from coming over though. Got some stones this girl, I’ll give her that much. “What do you want?” she asked. Big emphasis there on the ‘you’. “What’s the meaning of this?” I fired straight back, handing her the magazine open at the offending page. I’d bought my own copy on the way over. “What about it?” “What about it?!” I exclaimed.”It’s all lies! There’s laws protecting against this sort of thing you know! You can’t just go around publishing lies about me!” Sighing loudly, Chantelle lifted her sunglasses up and put them down again over her hair. “Unless you haven’t noticed, your name isn’t even in there”. “Yeah, I spotted that” I said uneasily. “It’s still obviously me though isn’t it?” “Really? To who is it obvious? There’s no mention of your name in there and there’s no mention of Luton Football Club either. So how would anybody – who isn’t Darren - know it was about you?” Slightly taken aback by that, I brought the magazine back inside the window and scanned the content again. I could have sworn it mentioned Luton a couple of times. It didn’t mention Luton. “I even put that I lived in Croydon just to throw people off the scent even more” Chantelle explained. “See? I protected your identity! And the guy I spoke to at Zoo said there was no way I or they could be sued, so you’re wasting your time”. “Jesus, you make it sound like you did me a favour!” "I did! They wanted to make it even juicier than that, believe me! They wanted to include bits about how you started dabbling in drugs and sleeping with rent boys, but I told them that would be going a bit too far". Now it was my turn to sigh. I did it whilst simultaneously throwing the magazine onto the passenger seat and burying my head in my hands on the wheel. “But why do the piece at all, Chantelle?” “Are you kidding me? They paid me a thousand pounds! I’ve never had the chance to earn easy money like that my whole life! I only had to work one afternoon. Look, at the end of the day I’ve got a son to support, and it’s not as if you’re gonna take care of me is it?” “Okay, but why be so vicious in the wording? Why lie?” “F.Y.I, that article has probably been changed about ten times by people since I first wrote it! When I first wrote it I more or less told the truth of what happened between me and you. But they said it wasn’t sexy enough. They said I needed to write in a more sexy way. They said I needed to be more - I dunno - in control – whatever – so then it was changed so that I was the one who did the dumping. Sometime after that they probably added the other stuff”. I sat up and looked forwards through the windscreen. And said nothing. “And don’t you even f__king think of accusing me of lying about this! If I had a quid for every time you used to come around my house bitching about something that Andy guy wrote about you in the local paper, I’d be rich. You of all people damn well know how people can twist and edit things and play with the wording!” Still I said nothing. “Aw let me guess, you came down here to have a go at me and now you’re realising you jumped the gun? What a shame! Wouldn’t be the first time you've done it though would it? Wouldn't be the first time you’ve jumped off the deep end too quickly, acting first, thinking later, would it? You know, I’ve even wondered a few times whether that was the case when you finished with me too. Because let’s face it, it was a pretty sh_tty reason for dumping someone, wasn’t it? Did you regret it later when you’d had time to think about it?” Still I said nothing. “Well, whatever. You know, I’ll tell you one thing in that finished article that’s definitely true". "Really? What's that?" "You really are pathetic”. Pulling her sunglasses back down again, she turned and walked off. Her high heels clinked against the road as she walked. For two or three minutes I stared disconsolately and directly ahead, unable (as is so often the case in my dealings with Chantelle) to come to a conclusion as to which of us had acted inappropriately here and which of us hadn’t. Then I started the car up and drove back to Kenilworth Road. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
banglared Posted August 20, 2011 Share Posted August 20, 2011 James Martin really isn't good at arguing, is he? Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 21, 2011 Author Share Posted August 21, 2011 ---------------- 21/07/10, Friendly Match 3 Luton Town v Peterborough United GK – Lars Stubhaug DL – Richie Byrne DR – Claude Gnakpa DC – Tony James DC – Harry Hogarth MC – Daniel Kearns MC – Keith Keane ML – Charlie Daniels MR – Michael Taylor FC – Scott Spencer FC – Dean Bowditch I made a couple of changes for this one, just to keep the players guessing. In went Kearns for Nicholls; a golden opportunity for the West Ham youngster to shine! I also thrust Spencer into a starting berth alongside Bowditch, the hope being he might recapture the sparkling form he showed at the beginning of last season. Once again we were paired with higher league opposition, in this case League One opposition, so I wasn’t expecting a win. I’ve noticed from the fixture list that all our friendlies are at home this year. That can’t be a good thing. You need to try out your away day tactics before the real thing gets going, not just your home ones. Next year I’m going to request I arrange the matches myself. I don’t know why I’m not doing it already, to be frank. No need for kit changes today. We wore orange and Posh wore blue. Every me and every you by Placebo was playing as we ran out. I’ve had a bet with Brian though that come the first league game, the DJ will divert to We’re Luton. We got off to a fast start. Daniels won a free kick on the left and Keane it was who whipped it in. It wasn’t a great free kick but the ball bounced and bobbled its way through a crowd of bodies, eventually reaching Spencer at the back post. He should have scored himself but somehow fired his shot at the man on the near post. Out it went to Michael Taylor. He smacked it first time low through the keeper’s legs and that was good enough for one-nil! That goal arrived in the 3rd minute, and things got even better in the 16th. This time Daniels played a more active role. After playing a neat one-two with Kearns he carried the ball to the byline and cut it back. The cross was behind both Bowditch and Spencer but not behind Peterborough midfielder Tudor-Jones. Remarkably, despite being stood almost as far back as the penalty spot, the ball hit his raised knee and found its way into the corner of the net. Keeper was wrong-footed. Were we actually in danger of winning a friendly here? The rest of the half was quite turgid. Bowditch went wide with a free header but after that it was mostly stop-start play with the occasional chance for Posh. We survived until half time though. The crowd were in good spirits (what crowd there was!). -------- HT 2-0 -------- Even with the chance of victory, I didn’t compromise on my substitutions. No point ‘masterminding’ a League One scalp in exchange for having unprepared players at the start of the season. So, on the hour I began to make the usual wholesale changes. On went Cadamateri, Nicholls, Gill, Niven, Buckley, Beavon, McKerr, Dodds, Moore, and Poole. Doesn’t the bench look so much fuller now we’ve made those new signings? In the 61st minute we scored a third goal. With barely his first touch, horror nut Buckley danced through the middle to create an opening all of his own making. Lazy and disinterested Posh players seemed to just part like the red sea as Buckley danced first one way and then the other. When finally confronted with the goalkeeper, the substitute executed a perfect little lobbed shot that dipped and landed just short of the goal line but subsequently wound up in the net. “Where did he produce that from?” I asked Brian. “Well it’s friendly game phenomenon, isn’t it? Put him in a league game and he’ll start hitting row Z again”. The Peterborough manager, clearly angry at his side’s lacklustre performance, made only a small number of substitutions. One of them, somebody ‘Lee’, pulled one back with twenty minutes to go. Chadwick found space on the right and crossed for the aforementioned player, whose downward header got caught in Stubhaug’s legs only to squirm across the line anyway. A comeback was on the cards now, and if Makail-Smith’s header in the 78th minute hadn’t cannoned back off the crossbar instead of going in, who knows? As it was, Peterborough legs began to fizzle out in the final ten minutes and the away bench was finally forced to send the bulk of its reserve battalion on. Final chance of the match fell to Luton. It came in stoppage time. Another substitute, this one the ever dependable El Skip, hit a low shot from forty yards that skimmed along the turf like a razor blade. Despite the outrageous distance, Lewis in the Peterborough goal had to react well to push it around the post. A good win then! Now I don’t have to keep peddling that one-win-in-x-number-of-friendlies statistic anymore. -------- FINAL SCORE (att - 2191) Luton Town 3 (Taylor 3, Tudor-Jones o.g 16, Buckley 61) Peterborough United 1 (Lee 70) -------- Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 21, 2011 Author Share Posted August 21, 2011 23/07/10 - The interviews (part 1) Interview day today. Brenda knocked on the door to my private office at 2pm to let me know the first candidate had arrived. At the same time, she also dropped off a folder containing C.V printouts for all the candidates. “The first one’s a girl” she told me. “Shall I send her up?” “Please. Thanks, Brenda”. “No problem. And good luck!” “Thanks”. As my secretary disappeared again, I went into my office wardrobe and took out the suit jacket for the trousers I was wearing. Then I stood in front of the mirror and adjusted my tie. Finally, I slapped some aftershave on and re-took my seat behind the desk. Two minutes later, another knock. Distinctly lighter this time. A woman’s knock. “Come in!” In walked a young girl/woman of about eighteen. Tops. As I’d privately been unable to resist hoping, she was quite the eye candy. Curvy. Long black hair. Hazel eyes. Smart grey business suit. I reckoned she’d already scored a point without even saying anything! “Hello there” she said, offering her hand. “Hi” I replied, giving it a shake. “I’m James Martin, club manager. Do sit down”. “Thanks”. “So what’s your name then, if you don’t mind me asking?” “Sally Cobb”. “Good to meet you, Sally”. Once we were both seated, I opened up the C.V folder and saw that Sally’s was first on top. Smiling politely, I took it out and placed it on my desk. Then I put the folder with the other C.V’s away in the top drawer. “So err, I guess why don’t we start by you telling me why you want to be our new ticket sales administrator?” “Well, I need a new job because I’ve recently become unemployed. Also, it just so happens I’ve got experience doing ticket sales in the past”. “Really? Excellent! Was that in your previous job?” “No. My previous role was self-employed, running my own business from home”. “Hey! Very impressive!” I decided at this juncture the other candidates might as well quit now. I figured that in any recruitment process, you’re not going to find a more attractive proposition than a gorgeous brunette who also just happens to fit all the required job criteria. You’re just not going to beat that. It’s unbeatable. As far as I was concerned, this girl had it in the bag. However, just as I was tempted to call wraps on the interview (and offer her the job at the same time), I spotted out the corner of my eye that Sally’s C.V was extremely short. Less than a page in fact. It didn’t even have an introduction section. The first thing on it was a list of GCSE results. English – FMaths – D Science – Fail Geography – D History – E Art – Fail Religious Education - Fail I.T – C Business Studies – F Religious Education – Fail A pretty poor set of results that, instantly leading to me wonder why Bob put her through to the interview stage. It’s not as if he could have known how gorgeous she was. Anyway, seeing these grades forced my hand into continuing the interview just a little while longer. “Not a great set of GCSE results” I commented, hoping she wouldn’t take offence. “Yeah, although to be fair I never really cared much about school or education. Too expensive to go to university these days. All I’ve ever wanted to do is work”. “An admirable sentiment, I suppose”. Now I looked down to the second and final segment of Sally’s C.V. It was her job experience section. (2007-2009, Heavenly Hatters. Reference – Randy Begher, 01887 435555)(2009-2010, Self employed, running home computer business. No reference) ‘Oh for f__k’s sake’. “You spent two years working at Heavenly Hatters?” “Yeah”. “Doing what? Admin? Marketing? Accounts?” “No. I was an exotic dancer”. And just like that, the interview seemed to turn on its head. “How come you left?” “Well, the manager – his name’s Randy, by the way – he likes to replace the staff every now and then, you know, keep things fresh for his customers? I guess my time had come to an end”. “Don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t look a day over eighteen to me, and yet in your C.V it says you started work there in 2007”. “I did. I started there when I was fifteen and a half”. “You started working at Heavenly Hatters when you were fifteen?!” “Yeah. I wasn’t expecting to get in, but Randy’s got this saying – ‘If your tits are big enough, you’re old enough’. Decent guy though really. Not many other guys would have given me such a well paid job at that age”. “Yeah” I sighed. “He’s clearly a real beacon in the dark for youth unemployment”. Although she didn’t know it, Sally’s chances of replacing Caroline had just gone from excellent to mediocre. Time to move away from the Heavenly Hatters talk before things got any worse. “Okay, why don’t you tell me about the previous experience you said you have in ticket sales?” “Oh!” she exclaimed excitedly. “That was really cool. One time, a while ago, Randy organised this wet T-shirt promotion out on Luton high street, and I was one of the girls who had to stand near the water hose handing out the free tic - “. “Okay okay” I said hastily, cutting her off in her prime. Mediocre had now deteriorated to hanging-on-by-precarious-knife-edge. “But as I understand it, eventually you got got out of stri – exotic dancing, and moved into your own self employed computer business. Why don’t you tell me a bit about that?” “Well, after I got laid off, I got talking to my friend Danielle, who still works at the strip club. She gave me the idea of setting up a webcam on the P.C at my house, you know, charging guys online by credit card and then doing a few raunchy – “ “Swell!” I interrupted, rising to my feet and holding out my hand. “You’ve obviously got bags of initiative, and that’s what we always like to see in prospective employees here at Luton”. Sally smiled uneasily and rose to her feet, awkwardly stretching out her hand to meet mine. “That’s the end of the interview?” “Yeah. We’ll let you know soon though, okay?” “Okay”. Stepping out from behind my desk, I showed her the door and saw her out. Then I returned to the desk and hastily picked up the phone. “Brenda? Yeah it’s me. Sally’s on her way back down now – yeah show her out if you would – once she’s gone, get back on your computer and send out her rejection letter, will you? - No I don't need to wait until I've seen the other candidates first - Thanks". Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
FlownCanary Posted August 21, 2011 Share Posted August 21, 2011 Wow! Quite the interviewee that one! Makes me fear for the ones coming up after her haha! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
banglared Posted August 22, 2011 Share Posted August 22, 2011 The best one is always the last one, isn't it? Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 22, 2011 Author Share Posted August 22, 2011 Personally I probably would have hired her anyway lol -------- 23/07/10 - The interviews (part 2) Ten minutes later, Brenda called me back. “Your next interviewee has arrived. This one’s a man. His name is Jethro Du Feintre”. "A foreigner?” “Probably. Maybe French”. “Well good! Maybe introducing a bit of culture and sophistication to the office will be just what the doctor ordered?” “I’ll send him straight up” Brenda declared, curiously with a bit of a strangled chuckle in her voice. After putting the phone down, I took out Jethro’s CV and had a quick peek. Unlike Sally’, Jethro’s was more packed out with the type of things you would expect to see on a C.V. He even had good qualifications and – shock horror – office experience! Yep, this sounded more like the person I had in mind. “Come in” I said, in response to the knock on the door. I was anticipating Jethro of course, but instead, in walked Cyril Denton. He was strangely dressed in an all black business suit. “Hello mate”. 'What the hell is he doing here?' “Cyril, whatever it is it will have to wait. I’m in the middle of doing some interviews. In fact I’ve got someone coming up any moment now”. “Jethro Du Feintre?” “Yeah. How did you kno – “ “I’M Jethro Du Feintre!” Cyril grinned like a Cheshire cat and moved further into the room. Reluctantly, and with something of an almighty sigh, I gestured for him to sit down. “You applied for the ticket sales position?” I asked. He nodded. Still grinning. “And you used a false name?” More nodding. Continued grinning. “Why would you use a false name, Cyril?” “Well, years ago, before me and Lee started the souvenir shop, I used to really struggle to get a normal job. My mum always theorized this might have been down to my name. She says the name Cyril is perceived by some people to be a bit of a geeky name, and that subconsciously, employers might not select me for interview because of it”. “If your mum really thought that then why did she give you that name at birth?” “I dunno. Maybe the name didn’t have such a geeky reputation back in the early eighties? Anyway, I decided at some point that the next time I went for a proper job I would use a fake name. That way, the employer would get to see the real me first, rather than just look at my name and think I’m geek”. “I see. Okay. Yeah. That'd get you round the problem. Good thinking”. Leaning forwards in response, Cyril bit his lip and donned an excited expression. “Just out of curiosity, did you not see what I did with my fake name?” “Sorry, what?” “Jethro Du Feintre!” he began, in a patronizing tone. “It’s an anagram!" “An anagram? Of what?” “Return of the Jedi”. ‘Oh for the love of God’. Briefly I looked down at the name Jethro Du Feintre on Cyril’s CV and began working out in my head if he was telling the truth. I gave up after five seconds. It certainly looked like it might fit Return of the Jedi, if the letters were rearranged. Should I even have doubted him? “Wow” I said softly. “Genius that, Cyril. And to think we had our best cryptographers going over the C.Vs all weekend just to see if there were any secret names in there". “Ah, you see! Slipped that one by them then, didn’t I?” “Okay, Cyril, let’s get down to business. Why is it you want Caroline’s job? Is the souvenir shop in trouble or something?” For the first time today Cyril brought out one of his more serious expressions. It was so weird, by the way, seeing him with his hair all neatly combed. I’d become accustomed to the Harry Potter look (just after he's taken a blast from Voldemort's wand). “No, the shop’s doing okay. As usual. But in a way that’s just the problem; it’s only doing ‘okay’. I’ve started thinking recently that maybe I’m getting to an age now where I need to move into something better paid. I’m twenty seven now, dude. I’m getting older. I don’t want to live in my mum’s attic room anymore. I want to raise the money to get my own place”. “What about Lee?” “He can still run the souvenir shop on his own. And if he can’t, maybe he can recruit a helper? Maybe some teenage Luton fan out needs some extra pocket money on a weekend? I don’t know”. Rubbing my stubble, I looked down at Cyril’s CV. I’d already given it the once over of course, but I wanted to make it look like I was doing something constructive whilst I had a long think about whether I actually wanted to give him the job. Cyril’s an alright guy, but only in short doses. I wasn’t sure I could tolerate him day in day out. And then there were the others to consider. Brenda could probably tolerate him. Darren? Maybe. For a while. As for Nicky though, the woman Cyril secretly fawns over, forget it. Given the notable demise of her self esteem since Caroline died, I think the recruitment of Cyril as a replacement would just about finish Nicky off. No, forget it. “I can’t give you this job, Cyril. I’m sorry”. “What? Why?” ‘Tread carefully here, James!’ “Because – because your work in the souvenir shop is too important”. “What?” “Cyril, do you have any idea just how important you are to this football club?” “Well – I mean – I never really considered -”. “MASSIVELY important, is the answer. Together with Lee, you provide a service no other supporter is willing to provide, and would ever provide! Whether you realise it or not, you preserve the glorious history of this club. You nurture it! You keep it alive! On a daily basis! Without you, stood in the doorway of the port-a-cabin each Saturday to remind Hatters fans where they came from, this club would be just another Luton Lightning”. Cyril looked left, right, up, and down, as if considering a important deathmatch question. Then he slowly nodded his head. “Yeah you’re right” he muttered. “Damn right I’m right! So you see, Cyril, I can’t take you away from the souvenir shop. If I did I’d be committing political suicide! The supporters would never forgive me. My role at the club would become completely untenable. You do see the position I’m in here, don’t you Cyril?” “Yeah” he mumbled dejectedly. We sat in silence for a couple of minutes, me staring at him and him staring down at the desk. Then eventually he stood up. I followed his lead. “I guess that’s that then” he followed up with. “Yeah. Sorry mate”. We shook hands and I walked him to the door. Then we said one final goodbye and he was gone. As soon as the door was shut, I leaned back on it and blew a sign of relief. 'Next time, I'm doing the whole process from beginning to end. Not just the interviews'. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
mcglede Posted August 22, 2011 Share Posted August 22, 2011 Be careful talking down about the mighty Shaymen there Scottlee. Why am I thinking Cyril will apply for the office job?? *waves index finger in the air Viv Richards like* Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 23, 2011 Author Share Posted August 23, 2011 Yep, it certainly was a very fine guess, Mcglede : ) ---------------- 23/07/10 - The Interviews (part 3) “The next one’s here, James. This one’s a woman. Name of Alison Tilby. Twenty two years old”. “No. Forget that. I’m not taking on someone called Alison. It would be bad karma. Tell her there’s been an administrative error and that the position has already been filled and that you’re very sorry for the c__k-up”. “Okay, I’ll let you know when the next one turns up”. -------- “James?” “Yep”. “The next one’s turned up. It’s another woman”. “What’s this one called?” “Sandra Binder. Thirty six”. “Better! Send her up”. “She looks pregnant to me”. “Don’t send her up”. -------- “This one’s Asian. Her name’s Kindra Singh. Want me to send her up?” “Yeah, okay. Oh! Before you do though, just go on Google and run that through an anagram solver will you? Tell me what comes up”. -------- Kindra arrived in my office ten minutes later. She seemed Indian to me; brown skin, black hair, accent like you hear sometimes on the cricket (when we’re away to India). Turned out I was right, although you wouldn’t have guessed it from her dress sense. Kindra was dressed 100% like a westerner. Bear wouldn’t have been impressed. “Take a seat” I told her at the end of the handshake. “Thanks”. Despite first impressions being largely positive, I didn’t find her attractive in a physical sense. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen some amazingly gorgeous Indian girls in my time. This one though, despite being slim, young, and reasonably curvy, had these weird bulgy eyes that almost made her look like an Avatar character disguised as a human. Not for me thankyou very much. “Your C.V is quite impressive, at a quick glance. So err what can you tell me about yourself then, Kindra?” “Well, I’ve just recently left university. I took a 2:1 in Computer Networking at the University of Bedfordshire. Anyway, I hope this doesn’t count against me, but I’m not sure at the moment as to what my exact career goals are. I’d like to do something in I.T, as per my degree, but I’m not sure if I want to move away from the area or stay in Luton. And there’s also the option of getting involved with the family business rather than going my own way. So, lots of big decisions to be made at some point, I guess”. “Okay. So why is it you’ve applied for this ticket sales job?” “Well” she said with a smile. “My father’s a big fan of Luton Town, so there’s one reason! Seriously though, and I’m not going to lie, I just need to get any full time job I can get for now really, even if it’s just to get some good solid work experience for a couple of years whilst I figure out what I want to do long term. When I read the description for this job, it seemed like the sort of thing I could probably do without any experience. And the advert didn’t say experience was necessary”. This was starting to look promising. Kindra came across really well. Despite the accent (which was bound to make some fans ringing up for tickets think we’d opened up a call centre in Delhi), she spoke in a really professional, easy to understand manner. I was impressed. It didn’t bother me either she saw the job as a stopgap. Anybody who claims their final ambition in life is to be a ticket sales administrator should be regarded with nothing but suspicion, in my opinion. “Any interest in football yourself?” I asked speculatively. “No, sorry! My biggest passion is theatre”. “Watching or taking part?” “Both. I’m a member of a local amateur dramatics society. Have been for years. I’ve done lots of plays and musicals. Had some really good parts too”. “Very impressive! Ever thought of making a career out of it?” “No. Professional acting is very hard to get into these days. I’m staying realistic”. “Fair enough”. She was a lovely person, easily the best candidate so far. She didn’t seem to have any off-putting skeletons in her closet either (like being a tart, or a fan of Star Wars). Could I have actually found Caroline’s replacement right here? “Well” I said after a brief silence. “I’m very impressed, Kinda. Very impressed. Tell you the truth, I’m tempted to offer you the job right here and now, if I’m honest”. “If you did, my Dad would be over the moon. I’m visiting him in prison this evening to let him know how it went”. ‘Uh-oh’. “Your dad’s in prison? What for?” “Oh, he’s not a murderer or anything bad! He’s only in for two years. He got convicted of keeping illegal firearms in the shop that our family owns. You might know it. Mr Singhs? Just across the road from here?” ‘That psychopath is your dad?’ “Mr Singh is your dad?” “Yeah. Why? Have you met him?” I ignored that question. Instead I drooped my head down so it was almost touching the desk. Then I slowly began to bang my head against the wood. Very slowly. Over and over again. “Are you okay?” Kindra asked. I didn’t answer. Just carried on banging. ---------------- Coming next - the final verdict (Sally, Cyril, or Kindra? What will Martin decide now the candidates have run out?) Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Panpardus Posted August 24, 2011 Share Posted August 24, 2011 Just F*cking LOL! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 24, 2011 Author Share Posted August 24, 2011 23/07/10 - The interviews : the verdict There were no more candidates after Kindra. Once she’d left I was faced with the onerous task of sitting down and figuring out whom to give the job. Despite what I’d told Cyril, and despite the rejection letter I’d requested be sent to Sally, I decided that due to a lack of good candidates I would have to reintroduce to the running all previously discarded interviewees. They would be joined by Kindra, thus making it a three horse race. Just for her looks alone, Sally was a strong temptation now. Anyone who has ever spent large amounts of time working an office will understand the benefits of having eye candy floating around. It just perks you up during moments of stress. In that regard, the recruitment of Sally would be a fantastic addition. And considering we already have Nicky, adding Sally would be like bringing Christiano Ronaldo into your squad when you can already boast Messi. On the flipside to that coin, the former Heavenly Hatters dancer did come across as something of a thicko. No qualifications. No office experience. Nothing. Oh, except a good rack, and that’s it. Would it be enough though? Probably not. If it wasn’t enough, Erica and Bob (but mainly Erica) would come down on me like a ton of bricks. If Sally f__ked up they would demand to know why I’d picked such a dufus in the first place. Then they’d ban me from ever interviewing staff ever again. A chilling thought. My second interviewee, Cyril, was in exactly the opposite boat. I had no doubt at all he could do the actual job. Hell, he could probably build the club a rocket ship and get it to take off from the centre circle, were he to put his mind to it. Could we put up with his personality though? I’d already decided we couldn’t. That left Kindra. Unlike Cyril, Kindra would probably blend in quite well amongst the current office personnel. She also seemed capable of doing the job. In essence then, where as Sally and Cyril ticked just one of the two main boxes, Kindra ticked both of them. The only question mark was her dad. Did I really want to be hiring the daughter of a local convict? I still have nightmares about the time Mr Singh brought that Uzi machine gun out from behind his counter. If I shut my eyes, in fact, I can picture the exact moment I ducked down and scampered out of the shop, just as a hailstone of bullets went whizzing over my head, putting holes in cans of peaches and dog food. I almost died that day. All because of Singh! Would hiring Kindra mean I’d one day have to meet Mr Singh again, in some unforeseen context? I didn’t see why I would but you can never know for sure, can you? Still completely undecided on the whole thing, I moved to the window and looked out at the pitch. Fred was busy mowing the grass. Good old Fred. ‘Just go for Sally! Don’t over-think things all the time. Just pick the one you’d most like to sleep with! Simples!’ ‘Err, hello?! Cyril is your FRIEND. F.R.I.E.N.D. How can you not pick him?’ ‘There’s only one sensible option here though, isn’t there? Kindra ticks both boxes. She’s the best all round candidate. Fact!’ ‘I bet Sally’s good in bed. I could ask her if she wants overtime one night and then – ‘. ‘Cyril deserves a break. He’s probably had a tough life. He’s a good kid’. ‘Kindra is the one Caroline would have picked. I don’t know how I know that but I do’. I moved back to the desk now and picked up the phone. This whole thing had driven me up the wall today. Enough was enough though. After much dithering I finally had my decision. “Hi, it’s James Martin again. At Luton Town football club?” “Oh, hi! I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon!” “Well, I guess I figured I’d let you know before you go to the prison. It’s a yes. You’ve got the job”. “Aw that’s brilliant! Thank-you very much, that’s amazing! Thank-you! When do I start?” “I don’t know yet. Very soon, probably. Someone will be in touch. In the meantime, we’ll send you a contract. As soon as you’ve filled it in, send it back with the relevant documentation etcetera”. “Okay. Brilliant! Aw thanks again”. “That’s okay. Oh, there’s one more thing I need to tell you before I hang up the phone”. “Yes?” I suddenly had a familiar lump in my throat. It’s been coming and going a lot recently. Kindra had to wait a full twenty seconds before hearing me speak again. That's roughly how long it took me to get rid of it. “The reason this job became available is because the previous person died. You might have seen it in the news. Anyway, because of this, you might find the office you’re going to be working in to be quite – morbid – quiet - to begin with. The person who died was well liked here. Very well liked. A lot of people miss her. I guess what I’m trying to say is, don’t lose heart if you’re not given the warmest greeting in the world when you get here. It won’t be anything personal though. Just give it time and you'll be fine. I hope". “I did see that in the news, and yes I understand. Thank-you for advising me”. “Okay, Kindra. I’ll get that contract sent out. Enjoy the trip to see your dad”. “Will do. Thanks a lot. I really mean it" “Bye”. “Goodbye”. And that was that. We now had our new ticket sales administrator. ----- Banglared's final person guess is therefore also correct. You guys are on a roll. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chao Yang Posted August 24, 2011 Share Posted August 24, 2011 I hear gunshots in the air~ Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 25, 2011 Author Share Posted August 25, 2011 24/07/10, Friendly Match 4 Marine v Luton Town GK – Lars Stubhaug DL – Richie Byrne DR – Keith Keane DC – Claude Gnakpa DC – Tony James DMC - Kevin Nicholls MC – Matthew Gill ML – Charlie Daniels MR – Michael Taylor MC – Matthew Gill FC – Danny Cadamateri FC – Scott Spencer After the Peterborough game I phoned Marine and asked if this game could be switched to their place. I was desperate to play at least one away match before the season started and figured Marine to be the most likely of our remaining opponents to go for it at such short notice. The players didn’t like it, mind. They weren’t impressed when I told them they’d be travelling up to Merseyside on two day’s notice. Tough cheese! Because Marine are three tiers lower than us, I made one or two subtle changes to the line-up today, just to test out one or two things. At some point in every season there’s always a huge spate of injuries all at once. With this in mind, I gave Keane and Gnakpa a game in their secondary positions; right back and centre half respectively. This enabled Matthew Gill to have a rare crack at starting. Marine’s ground, The Arriva Stadium in Crosby, was diabolical. The speakers were so crackly I could barely hear the Duran Duran song that was on when the players ran out. Hardly any Luton fans made the trip. Brian counted forty, or so he said. Not quite sure why he was time this when he should have been watching the match, but anyway.. The first half was a non-event. We just didn’t turn up. I think the players thought they could just coast around and still win 8-0. Sorry boys. Doesn’t work that way. I think there was also a bit of the old I’m-too-knackered-to-play-now-he’s-made-me-come-all-the-way-up-to-this-dump going on. And the pitch was muddy too. That was a leveller. Marine could have scored twice in the first ten minutes. Miller actually did have the ball in the net but it was ruled out for something. Maybe offside? Then Torpey hit the post. I’d love to say it was a Torpey torpedo but in actual fact it was just a slow prod against the post after Stubhaug lost the ball low down on the edge of his six yard box. We did come back into the game territorially (after much shouting from yours truly on the touchline), but most of the chances were half-hearted. Spencer messed around too long in the 18th minute, dribbling here, there, and everywhere rather than take a damn shot. Keane then slammed just wide from twelve yards after being played in by Nicholls. What Keane was doing so far forwards when he was meant to be playing right back, God knows. Much to the delight of the local scousers too poor to watch Liverpool on a Saturday, Marine scored in the 34th minute. It didn’t quite instigate a Ronnie Radford pitch invasion but it certainly narked me off. Skinner it was who scored, firing one low across goal like an arrow after correctly anticipating that Robson’s corner would be over-hit. Clever how the Marine players all seemed to know each other’s fallacies, isn’t it? -------- HT 0-0 -------- I gave my boys a rare rocket at half time, reminding them we now have a biggish squad again and that nobody, on today’s showing, would be making the team for Darlington. Nicholls thankfully took my cue and did the whole ‘captain loud’ thing on the way back out of the changing room. Instantly we played much better. In the first five minutes of the second half we forced four corners, none leading to a goal. Then in the 52nd minute Gill headed the ball over the backline to send Cadamateri away. Going back to the header though for a second, I noticed Gill did that thing where you clench your fists at the exact moment you head the ball. I’ve seen players occasionally do that my whole career and never understood it. What does fist clenching add to a header? Cadders missed his one-on-one and shortly afterwards I began making subs. On went Fletcher, Buckley, Kearns, Hogarth, Niven, Beavon, Moore, Poole, and McKerr. The changes meant Keane could go back into centre mid. An equaliser finally arrived in the 67th minute. Poole’s attempted cross was slightly mishit but went in off the shin of Gough. Hardly any roar greeted the goal, so maybe this was when Brian started his count up? It was all Luton in the final quarter as the fresh legs took over. Marine’s squad depth can’t be up to much because the opposition manager kept most of his starters on for the whole duration. I think he only made two subs. Keane hit the angle of post and crossbar in the 71st minute. The same player also hammered a shot against the keeper’s knee that ballooned up in the air and landed on the roof of the net. He seems to thrive on mud bath football pitches does Keane. Embarrassingly, we couldn’t use the goal as the springboard to go on well. Many more chances came and went in the final ten minutes, most of them seeming to fall to midfielders and wingmen. The last one before the end was Kearns chipping the keeper only for the ball to get stuck in the mud rather than bounce over the line. Infuriating. -------- FULL TIME (att - 379) Marine 1 (Skinner 34) Luton Town 1 (Gough o.g 67) -------- Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 26, 2011 Author Share Posted August 26, 2011 25/07/10 - A chilly call It was another boring Billy-no-mates night in the flat. Coffee in hand, I sat with Bambi and took in the commercial for a new film. -------- “My life’s okay, I guess” says someone off-camera. A soft piano soundtrack plays. The voice presumably belongs to the dark haired actor in all the quick-fire scenes. First the guy is brushing his teeth in front of the bathroom mirror. Then he’s exiting the subway carrying coffee. Then he’s entering the front door of a two hundred storey building. Then he’s sitting down in a packed office etc. (‘But normality, was about to change’ says a deep voiced narrator). Cue somebody sneakily injecting him in the thigh with something when he goes for a pee. Then we cut to him waking up after hours, clutching a bruised head. The rest of his colleagues appear to have gone home. “Who am I?” Dean says to the toilet mirror, a bemused look on his face. (‘What would you do - if your whole life - was taken away from you in an instant?’) “TELL ME WHO I AM, DAMMIT!” Dean now screams to the desk clerk in reception. (‘And even your own family, seems unfamiliar’). “Oh my God” Dean says to himself on a bench in Central Park, as he discovers a picture of a woman and two boys in his wallet. “I have a family!” (‘And the government wants to kill you... and you don’t know why’). Cue a shot, presumably much later in the film, of Dean running across a rooftop. A CIA helicopter turns, shoots, and misses. “You can’t contact the president” Morgan Freeman then tells him in another scene. “Why?” “Because this goes much higher than him”. A few more back and forth scenes of dialogue follow. Then some dramatic music kicks in and the scene-changing starts to speed up. (This summer.. ) Dean is now typing something really fast on a computer terminal. He's got a sweat on. (Dean Pendle..) Dean is kissing a woman underwater. Above both their heads and the water line, something big has just exploded. (Will attempt to find out why..) Dean holds a microchip up to his eye and studies it carefully. (his identity..) Screaming his lungs off, Dean drives through a train crossing just in the nick of time. Because of the steep gradiant of the road leading to the track, the car literally gives off the impression of flying through the air as its passes the bonnet of the train. (was erased!) Lots of quickfire action shots now. Lots and lots of them, as the dramatic music builds to a crescendo. Then, all of a sudden, the screen goes black, the music cuts out, and the title of the film pops up. (‘IDENTITY ERASED’ – coming soon. Blah blah blah. For more information, go to www.identityerasedfilm.com) Then there’s one final shot of Morgan Freeman. He has the final word, presumably spoke to Pendle off-camera. “This is gonna be a day you’ll wanna forget, young man”. And then it's over. -------- “What a load of crap” I said to Bambi. Just then my telephone started ringing. Shame it didn’t happen before I sat through that advert. Placing the dog to one side, I got up and headed over to pick the receiver up. I almost got the shock of my life when I heard who’s voice it was on the other end. “Hey boss!” “Darren?” “The one and only!” A flutter of relief floated through my whole body. He was alive. He was actually alive! The bastard didn’t understand the meaning of the word postcard, clearly, but he was alive! That was the main thing! Thank God. “Jesus, man!" I exclaimed excitedly. "We thought that – we thought - forget it - how the hell are you?” “Not bad. We’re coming home this week. We’re in Chile at the moment”. “Chile? Oh. Okay. How’s the trip been anyway?” “Amazing, mate. Utterly amazing. Too many stories to tell on the phone though, especially with the amount of money this call is probably going to cost me. Running very low on cash, to be honest. Gonna have to keep this short. How’s things at the office? Alright?” Reality set in with that question. One of my hands performed an uneasy shake and I had to switch the receiver to the other hand. “Not bad. Not bad. Listen though, err, I need to tell you something”. ‘Here? On this crackly phone? Whilst he’s in friggin’ Chile?’ “What’s that?” Darren asked. “Actually, it doesn’t matter. What day are you getting back?” “Err, not sure actually, off the top of my head. Listen, I need to go. I need to get off this phone”. “Darren, promise me you’ll text me the minute you touch down at Luton airport will you? I’m going to come and meet you”. “What for?” “Because – we’ve all agreed to come and give you a surprise coffee and a welcome, and I need to make sure it doesn’t get cocked up by you wandering off somewhere the minute you arrive”. “Ha! You guys! Deary me. Okay, I’ll text you when I land. Gotta go now though. Seriously, I haven't got time for goodbyes”. “Dar – “ The line was already dead. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 27, 2011 Author Share Posted August 27, 2011 26/07/10 - Out with the old There was actually some light conversation in the office this morning. Brenda, Nicky, and me had a quick natter about something funny that happened on Home and Away. Then Brenda told us how Rory accidentally squirted the guy in front with his hotdog during a recent Luton game. Best of all, there was the good news about Darren to pass on. Nobody speculated on how he was going to react to the Caroline news; that might have killed the progress we were making with each other. But then Erica came along and killed it anyway. “James” she said, opening the door and popping her head around it. “Can I have word outside, please?” “Sure”. Out I went. As soon the door was closed behind us, Erica went snarly on my ass. “The new girl’s here. She’s in reception”. “Oh. Okay. I’ll go and get – “ “No” said Erica firmly, blocking my way with an arm. “First you’re going to clean up Caroline’s workstation. I couldn’t believe it last night when I went in to get some stationary and saw her things still spread all over the desk. I bet her drawers are packed full of stuff too, aren’t they?” “Probably, yes, but nobody ever came to claim her things! Her parents haven’t wanted anything to do with me, or Brenda, or anyone in Luton”. “Well considering their daughter died in this place it’s hardly surprising they’d want nothing to do with it, is it? If it was me I’d want to just drive off and never look back. What about her housemates? Do you think they’d want what’s left of her things? If not it’s all going to have to be chucked in the bin”. “What’s the big hurry to get rid? There’s tons of free desks in there. Why does Kindra have to have Caroline’s” “For all I know she isn't! Let me put it to you this way; would YOU want to start a new job with some dead person’s belongings scattered all over a nearby desk?” I suppose she had a point. “The thing is though, Erica, feelings are still a bit delicate in the office right now. I don’t want to rock the boat at this stage by – “ “Oh don’t give me that! It’s been almost two months! Time to move on. Now get back in there and bag it all up”. “Eri – “ “Just do it!" she barked. "And then come let me know when you have. I'll be waiting in reception with Kindra". And with that she stormed off. Cursing under my breath, I went back inside the communal offices and over to the desk opposite Darren’s. Heaven only knows why but there have been two cardboard boxes under that desk the whole time I’ve been Luton. Nobody knows how or why they got there, but they’re there. Without saying a word I scooped up one of the boxes and moved around to Caroline’s old desk near the back of the room. Even though I hadn’t looked at them since coming back in, I could feel Brenda and Nicky’s eyes on me like hawks. As I reached the desk, I put the cardboard box on top of the keyboard and rested my arms down either side of it. Then I looked up, finally, at my two colleagues. Brenda met my eye briefly and then turned back to her computer screen. Nicky on the other hand met my stare and kept it there. Her face looked pained and she seemed to be pleading with me telepathically not to go through with what I was about to do. I had to though. To be fair on Erica, she's probably right. There does come a point where you have to crack on and not look back. The first thing I packed away was the mouse mat. It had a picture of Zombie Orgy on it performing in Bridlington. Then a couple of DVD's abandoned near the keyboard went in. Then I moved onto the Polaroid photographs blue-tacked around the edges of the monitor. Some of these were pictures of rock stars, others of Caroline and her friends having a good time in some club or another. Nicky featured in some of them. Then I moved into the drawers and started emptying those out. Caroline had certainly accumulated her fair share of crap. Suddenly Nicky stood up and abruptly walked out of the room, closing the door behind her slightly firmer than she normal would. A sharp jolt of pain hit me when she did this and I had to pause again before moving on, this time for maybe ten more seconds. Brenda looked at me again but said nothing. Once the workstation was completely de-Carolined, I took the cardboard box back to my own desk and put it down out of sight near the base unit. Then I got a wet scrubber from the kitchen and went back to the other desk. With this, I wiped everything completely clean and then returned the scrubber to the kitchen. Now I left the communal office and headed for reception. Nicky was nowhere to be seen out here. She must have gone into the toilets. Not that there was anything I could do for her now. Erica and Kindra were waiting. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 28, 2011 Author Share Posted August 28, 2011 26/07/10 - Strumming and humming. The awkwardness of Kindra’s first day left me desperate for a drink. As I hadn’t been to The Haunted Cow for a while, I decided to go there. It wasn’t even 6pm by the time I got there. As I walked in, the first sound to greet my ears was the beginning of that old country and western song – Stand by your man. Prairie wasn’t singing it, thank god. It was playing on the jukebox. (‘Sometimes – it’s hard – to be – a woman’). I needed a pee before anything else so headed to the toilet. Just as I was in the process of whipping it out, Brian texted me with the news we’d drawn Watford at Vicarage Road in the league cup. A repeat of the same fixture from two years ago! What were the odds on that? We got beat 2-1 last time. Maybe the time is ripe for a spot of revenge? Finishing up, I washed my hands, sent a text back, and then embarked on the long walk around to the other side of the bar where I was sure Prairie would be holed up. (‘Stand by your mannn!) Sure enough, he was. He was sat side on to the bar tapping one finger against the wood to the rhythm of the music. He looked like he was reminiscing some old concert from way back. “Hey, Prairie”. “Oh!" he exclaimed, coming out of his trance. "Howdy, partner! Have a seat”. I did. “Do you know who it was who sang this?” he asked. “Err, Dolly Parton?” “Ha! Not quite. No, Tammy Wynette sang this. Back in sixty eight. World was a different place back then, I’ll tell you that for nothing”. I leaned forwards on the bar. Said nothing. “Did you know Tammy Wynette was turned down by pretty much every major label in Nashville before finally getting a recording contract?” “Nope” I replied. “Well it’s true. In the end it was a man called Billy Sherrill who gave her her break and even then she was only taken on to do a cover of the song Apartment No 9. I think it was Epic Records the name of the label. Epic had a whole bunch of great acts around that time. Roy Hamilton. Bobby Vinton. Remember Jeff Beck?” “Nope”. “Well Epic had him too”. “Yeah?” “Uh-huh. As sure as the hills are green”. Prairie paused to finish off his whiskey. I couldn’t get one of my own because there didn’t appear to be anyone behind the bar. Realising this made me wonder if Prairie had just leaned over and taken the house whiskey bottle (and a shot glass) without asking for it. “I heard about the young lady who passed away” he then said, catching me off guard. “Oh. Yeah. It’s hit everyone at the club really hard”. “I read about it in the paper. What was her name again? Channellabelle?” “Caroline”. “That’s the one. Makes you pig sick how some people think it’s perfectly fine to treat a young lady that way. The trouble this side of the pond is, there’s nothing to deter people from doing things like that. No capital punishment. No death sentences. Soft sentences. I mean sheesh!” I was just about to offer my two cents worth when Prairie pulled one of his toy six-shooters from its holster. To begin with he kept it down by his side. “If you ask me, this government could learn a thing or two from the old west. Prison’s all well and good, for some, but for the really wayward men in this world, you need the threat of cold – hard – steel”. As he said this he held the gun up and then slowly aimed it at a spot behind the bar. It was at this moment the actual barman appeared from out back. “Let me guess” he sighed, observing the gun being re-holstered. “Prairie’s telling you about the time he won a duel with Kevin Costner at the OK Corral”. I laughed at that and so did Prairie (albeit, in his case, sarcastically). Then I was finally able to get a shot glass of my own and fill it up. I necked my first drink in just one go. “You know, if it’s okay with you, partner, I could write a new song about the young lady – Caroline – as a kind of tribute. Maybe include it on my next album”. “Yeah that would be nice, Prairie. You go for it”. I didn’t think he meant he was going to write something this very minute but Prairie instantly went off to get his acoustic. Then, once he’d returned, he began strumming and humming and experimenting. The barmen shook his head unimpressed and disappeared out back again. “Ohhhh Caroline” Prairie eventually sang. “Sweet Caroline. From South Carolina - " You know, sometimes, it’s really not hard to figure out why Prairie has never hit Wynette's league. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 29, 2011 Author Share Posted August 29, 2011 28/07/10 - The Melancholy Pilot The text from Darren arrived early evening. Hey. Just to let you know, we’ve just arrived at Luton *wink* Unfortunately he sent it to Nicky and Brenda too, thus ruining my plans to meet Darren on the quiet. I found out later that Brenda messaged Darren back to welcome him home but didn’t express an interest in going to meet him. By contrast, the first thing Nicky did on getting the text was call me and suggest we go meet Darren and break the news together. This way, apparently, he'd be protected from finding out in a far more inappropriate way i.e. on Facebook, or from some old thread on Hatters Online. “Good idea that, Nicky. Didn’t think of that. Tell you what, let me call Darren and I’ll see if he’ll meet us for a drink somewhere before he goes home”. Gut instinct had been telling me for a while I should meet Darren alone on this one. However, after the unspoken ill-feeling on Monday over Caroline’s desk clearout, I kind of figured I didn’t particularly owe it to Nicky to pi$$ her off twice in the same week. She’s got just as much right to go greet Darren anyway. “Hi mate” I said to him, once he’d picked up his phone. “Hi. Are you coming to meet me then or what? Me and Gumbold have been waiting here twenty minutes already”. Gumbold! Christ’s sake. I’d forgotten about him. I needed some fast thinking here. “Err, yeah. Listen, we’re going to meet you in a pub somewhere close to the airport, but the thing is, we don’t really want Gumbold there. We’ve err got a kind of reservation thing lined up for when we leave the pub, but it’s only for a certain amount of people and it’ll be awkward if Gumbold tries to then tag along with us”. “Okay that’s fine. I’ll find a way to get rid of him. Could do with a break from him anyway, to be frank. We’ve practically been living in each other’s pockets these past two months. What pub do you want to meet in?” “I don’t know. What is there down that way?” “Well, there’s The Melancholy Pilot. It’s just across the road from the airport. You can literally see planes in the distance from the front window of the pub”. “Okay. I don’t know it but I’ll find it”. “Cool”. Saying our goodbyes, I told him we wouldn’t be long and then hung up. Then I left the flat and went to pick Nicky up. Nicky actually seemed calm and normal when she got in the car, maybe even close to cheery. We agreed on the way to The Melancholy Pilot that I would be the one to actually say the difficult words Darren didn't want to hear. Halfway there, Say you’ll be mine by Steps came on the radio. Nicky smiled at this and turned the volume up. Outside, a drizzly rain was beginning to come down. This is worth mentioning because we’ve hardly had any rain since May. It was if Darren had brought it back from Santiago. On arriving at the pub, we saw Darren at a table by the wall. With a huge grin on his face he came over and gave us both a hug. Nicky looked uncomfortable during the hug but Darren didn’t seem to notice. “Really good to see you guys” he announced. “Is this it though? Just you two?” “Err yeah” I told him whilst simultaneously paying for my drink. “Well I’m not surprised about Brenda but I can’t believe Caroline didn’t come. Bitch”. Neither me nor Nicky could think of anything to say to that so without further word we all trundled over to Darren’s table. It was a four seat table. Me and Nicky sat on one side and Darren on the other. Darren had a half finished pint of lager, me a pint of bitter, and Nicky a WKD orange. Because of the rain outside, all three of us were a little wet. “You two are a bit quiet” Darren observed. “Well err – “ “The rain’s made us feel really depressed” Nicky jumped in with. “Right” said Darren in a slow drawl, giving Nicky a funny look. An awkward silence descended over the table. “So where do you think the name The Melancholy Pilot comes from?” I asked. “It’s a tribute to a pilot who worked at Luton Airport in the fifties. One day, whilst flying a small plane over this area, he crashed and died. Supposedly, between the moment he realised he was going to crash and the moment he actually did crash, he felt a large degree of melancholy". “I see”. More awkward silence. Darren’s eyes moved from me to Nicky and then back to me again. Then back to Nicky. “Okay, what’s the jig here? You’re all acting weird”. The time had come to get down to business. For moral support I glanced at Nicky. Then, gripping my beer glass tightly, I looked up and met Darren’s eyes head on. “Something happened whilst you were away. It’s – it's - to do with Caroline”. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chao Yang Posted August 30, 2011 Share Posted August 30, 2011 Oh dear, its like a trainwreck, I know its coming but I can't look away. Keep writing, riveting stuff right now! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 30, 2011 Author Share Posted August 30, 2011 Ta, Mr Yang. ---------------- 28/07/10 - The melancholy website administrator In the most deadpan manner imaginable, I began to tell the story of how it happened. Darren didn’t interrupt or show any emotion, just fixed me this bizarre wide-mouthed stare. “So err, here we are” I finished with. “And the killer hasn’t been caught?” “Nope. No arrests. Case has been closed too”. “Case has been closed” Darren repeated, bobbing his head slightly. “Right”. “We’ve hired a replacement. Her name’s Kindra. Indian”. “Kindra. Right”. Darren carried on bobbing his head long after I’d finished. He seemed to be sizing things up. Me and Nicky meanwhile just sat waiting for him to pass comment. Or cry. Whatever he wanted to do. Two minutes of contemplation later though, Darren simply got up and left, just picked up his bag and headed for the front door. “Darren?” I queried half-heartedly. He didn’t reply, just pushed the door open and left. Me and Nicky looked at each other but didn’t immediately speak. “He looked really tired from the flight” she eventually said. “Maybe we should have left it until tomorrow?” “Yeah but then he could have found out another way. Do you think we should go after him? Or let him go?” “Go after him”. “Okay”. From our three drinks combined there must have been over a pint of alcohol still untouched. Moving quickly, we grabbed our coats and went outside. Darren was nowhere to be seen. What’s more, the rain was absolutely lashing it down now. It was a full blown storm. “Let’s search from inside the car” I shouted through the deluge. Nicky didn’t reply but still followed my lead as I scampered back to the car. We were soaked through by the time we got inside. Turning the ignition on but the radio off, I pulled out from the car park behind the back of the pub and began to cruise the streets. Thankfully it only took a couple of minutes to find him, mainly because there were hardly any people out in this rain. Darren was walking with his head bowed by the side of the fence that ran around the outside of the runways. Slowing the vehicle speed so it was more or less going at Darren’s pace, I wound my window down and leaned as far to my right I could without getting wet. There weren’t any other cars in the vicinity. On first impressions it was a quiet road. “Darren!” I called out to him. “Where are you going? Get in the car!” No response. Just carried on walking as if he hadn’t heard. “Darren!” Again no response. He was ignoring me! ‘Feck’s sake’. I pulled up on the kerb and jumped out, leaving the engine running. Darren meanwhile had just caught up to some kind of huge waste disposal skip by the side of fence. “Hey!” I tried again. “Darren!” “Just f__k off!” he called back. “I’m going home”. “In this weather? Give up. Come on, get in the car”. Now he turned around and held his finger up as if about to say something really aggressive. He didn’t though, choosing instead to drop his travel bag and pick up a large metal pole sticking out from the skip. Then he literally began whacking everything he could lying on top of the skip. A huge scowl was on his face. He’d gone berserk. This turn of events was enough to goad even Nicky out into the rain. Like a nervous tourist approaching the bars of the lion cage, she moved left and right behind Darren without ever getting to within ten yards to him. Sensing she wasn’t going to be able to get close enough to talk sense into him, she looked at me with a sodden grimace on her face. “James!” she croaked, rain dripping down her face in rivers. Then I realised it wasn't actually rain. As I took this on board, Darren continued to smack the skip and its contents again and again and again. Whenever he connected with metal, a huge twang sounded out and he was almost knocked backwards by the recoil. When he hit other things, like a cardboard box or a packed bin bag, that item was unceremoniously blasted backwards into the fence. I couldn’t let this go on any longer. It was madness. Waiting for the moment Darren turned his fury towards the corner of the target furthest away from me, I ran in on his blindside and forced him into the side of the skip. In shock he dropped the metal bar and actually tried to wrestle with me! Only going to be one winner here though. After a quick slap and a tickle I got him in a headlock and forced him down to the pavement. “Get the f__k off me!” he cried, doing his utmost to wriggle free. Next to us, Nicky hopped and fidgeted and flapped her arms. She looked like she needed the loo and was struggling to hold it in. “Calm the hell down” I said in Darren’s ear hole. “No! Why the - f__k should I? I wanna find the f__ker who - you haven’t – you haven’t done it. I’ll – find him”. “No you won’t”. “Yes I – will”. “No you won’t”. “Don’t – tell me – what I can’t - do”. He struggled for all his might, wriggling and squirming and talking in spasms. I wasn’t letting go though until I got some semblance of calm out of him. In the end it took eight further no-you-won’t replies and even a personal plea from Nicky. Two planes went by overheard, too. Finally he swapped moving, going limb in my grip and sobbing into the concrete. All the usual front and bravado I'd grown so used to over the past two years had just completely disappeared in the space of twenty minutes. “I missed it” he eventually sobbed. "I missed it all". “Not your fault”. “It’s just so f__king messed up”. “I know, mate. I know”. I eased my grip slightly, giving him a chance. Thankfully he didn’t resort to previous, instead remaining draped over my thigh with his head almost touching the concrete. Nobody spoke for quite some time. And the rain knew no let up. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
I<3AFC Posted August 30, 2011 Share Posted August 30, 2011 This is amazing Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
mcglede Posted August 30, 2011 Share Posted August 30, 2011 Out of interest, how have Luton Lightning been going in their frendlies? Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted August 31, 2011 Author Share Posted August 31, 2011 Thanks, IAFC! A lot better than us, McGlede ---------------- 28/07/10 - The healing power of chips. An hour later we were parked up outside Darren’s house. I was in the driver’s side, Darren in the passenger seat, Nicky in the back. Nicky was leaning forwards through the gap between the seats. The reason we were sat here not moving was because we were eating fish and chips. We’d stopped off at a chippy on the way back from the airport. “So what countries did you go to?” I asked, puncturing a near five minute silence. There had been lots of those over the course of the past hour. Conversation hadn’t exactly been free flowing. “Peru. Columbia. Bolivia. Brazil. Then Northern Chile”. “Not Argentina then?” “No, didn’t make it that far down”. “What were the best things you did and saw?” “Loads of things” Darren replied. For at least a second he looked intent on elaborating. Unfortuantely, though, his body just wasn’t up to it. The man was jetlagged, wet through, and still half in shock from the bad news he'd received. In the silence that followed I finished my chips and scrunched the wrapper into a ball. Then I experimented to see how wet my feet still were, pressing them into the floor. The ensuing squelch told me everything I needed to know. Outside the rain was lighter now. It wasn’t the tropical all out assault of earlier. Every now and then I flicked the windscreen wipers on just to clear the view of Darren’s street. Not that there was much to see. It was dark. “You know that melancholy pilot story?” Nicky asked. “Yeah?” I replied. “I was just thinking; if he died in the crash then how do people know he felt sad at the time the plane was going down?” “I think it’s just presumed that he felt sad, Nicky. It’s not as if he would have felt happy about it, is it?” “He might have done. He might have been suicidal”. “Yeah but – “ Nobody interrupted me there. The reason I broke off because I didn’t have an answer. Twisting in my seat, I turned to look at Nicky. From a physical point of view, she’d probably suffered the worst out in the rain. Her long brown hair had turned a much darker shade now. And despite the red woolly jumper she was wearing, she was shivering a lot. “Well if you want to be pedantic about it, maybe the pilot radioed in as he was going down?” I suggested. “Maybe that’s how his true feelings were able to be translated into the name of the pub?” “Are you sure about that?” Darren queried. “Personally I can’t exacty imagine he got on the blower and said – Say, chaps, I’m going down! For the record, I feel extremely melancholy about this development”. “Well chances are he was probably more panic stricken than that. Think about it. They were hardly going to call the pub The Depressed As F__k Pilot were they?" Darren just yawned and scrunched his chip wrapper up. If he’d summoned up some reserve energy for the debate, it seemed already depleted. “S__t” he said after a few seconds, inspecting the front of his jacket. “This is how damn tired I am! – I’ve spilt ketchup down me. Have you got any tissues or anything?” “Hmm I don’t think so”. “Here” said Nicky, passing Darren something from the backseat. “Maybe James will let you use a page from this old magazine?” “Are you kidding?!” Darren exclaimed, taking the magazine but choosing instead to wipe his jacket with his hand. “You don’t deface Zoo with ketchup! It just isn’t done. Hey, James, can I borrow this one?” “Yeah of course you can, mate – No!” With a lightning fast left hand I snatched the magazine from Darren and pressed it tight to my chest. Both my companions looked at me in the dim light with something like surprise. “I – I've just realised I haven't finished reading it” I told them. “Jesus!” said Darren. “No need to be like about it though. Christ, they don’t even get naked in Zoo. Well, whatever, I’m off”. And with that he hopped out of the car. Both Nicky and I said goodbye but Darren may or may not have heard us before closing the door to. The last we saw of him he was wandering down the garden path with his hands in his pockets looking at the ground. It was still raining. After he was gone Nicky used her slim frame to squeeze through to the seat left vacated. Once she’d done that I threw the Zoo magazine into the back and prepared to start the car up. “I didn’t know you read smutty magazines” Nicky commented. “I don’t. The newsagents cocked up my subscription to Model Railways Monthly”. “Oh”. Promising myself to go easy on these increasingly wet roads, I turned the key and got us going again. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Unknown Hacker Posted August 31, 2011 Share Posted August 31, 2011 Just read the whole thing in one sitting mate. Impressive. Keep up the good work. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted September 1, 2011 Author Share Posted September 1, 2011 Cheers, Hacker. Thanks ---------------- 31/07/11, Friendly Match 5 Luton Town v Bristol City GK – Lars Stubhaug DL – Charlie Daniels DR – Michael McKerr DC – Tony James DC – Claude Gnakpa DMC – Kevin Nicholls MC – Keith Keane ML – Glenn Poole MR – Michael Taylor FC – Dean Bowditch FC – Scott Spencer This was a repeat of a friendly we had last year, when Bristol City came to Kenilworth Road and won 1-0. Today I continued with the sort of experimentation I tried against Marine, giving squad players starts and allowing some established players to practice their secondary positions. Daniels moved to left back to allow Glenn Poole a chance on the left wing. Similarly, Gnakpa once again played centre half to allow newbie McKerr an opportunity to play right back. There were also another chance for Scott Spencer up front. Keith Keane meanwhile returned to centre midfield. Bristol City are in The Championship so the odds were always on this being yet another of those friendlies that make Bob look good and me bad. I thought we were going to get battered early on. The Robins came out all guns blazing. As people like Daniels and McKerr took time to bed into their roles, higher level stalwarts like Wright-Phillips and Webber ran rings all over the place. When the first chance came however it was from a corner. The ball was lofted into the mixer, and after a spot of head tennis, Jackson headed towards the corner. Stubhaug was nowhere but Daniels was able to block it on the line with his chest. He didn’t then fancy waiting for the ball to drop onto his foot so kneed it away instead. Webber and Jackson then missed half chances from the edge of the area as Stubhaug continued to lead a charmed life. On the touchline I was already frustrated, even though we hadn’t conceded yet. Matches like this just don’t tell you anything. I almost wished I was back in Marine. Or whatever the town’s called (Crosby?). That said we slowly improved. Bristol City couldn’t keep the guns firing all half long; they occasionally needed time to reload. Next thing we knew there were twenty five minutes on the clock and not a shred of netting burst in anger. Then Nicholls rasped one just over from twenty two or so yards and we were really in the match. McCourt forced Stubhaug into a one handed tip around the post on 40 before the match’s truly big twist right on half time. I was just thinking we’d played really well to probably get to half time nil all when Taylor – who’d hardly done anything to this point – went on a trademark dribble and went over Wilson’s leg. The referee pointed to the spot and we had an unlikely penalty. Nicholls converted too. Amazing. -------- HT - 1-0 -------- The lead lasted 18 minutes, 15 of which were spent sat in the changing rooms. Substitute Johnson was the man who equalised, converting low from close range after a mishit shot across goal from Webber. I should have known it was too good to be true. But then we once again took the game to our opponents, Taylor the architect for Bowditch to tap in from close range. Two-one to Town! Now I really did genuinely BELIEVE – that we weren’t going to get completely hammered. It was almost with reluctance I got the subs warmed up just before the hour mark. As they were waiting to go on, Wright-Phillips equalised for City. Soft goal; he cut in from the wing and hit a bobbling shot with his wrong foot that only went on because of a deflection. A right good game this, as we might have said back in Yorkshire. So at two-two then the subs piled on. Hogarth, Fletcher, Buckley, Kearns, Niven, Byrne, Moore, and Cadamateri were the new men. The people who went off were err, well, most of the men who started. Do I really need to list them? In what was proving to be a much better spectacle than last year’s match, Luton re-took the lead after 68 minutes. We weren’t creating many openings but the ones we were creating were ending up in the net. This time Kearns was the one to profit, shooting a low poisonous arrow from outside the area. If, five minutes before half time, you'd told me we’d end up going three-two ahead in this match, how I would have labelled you fit for the insane asylum. Our previous two leads had lasted a combined total of eight minutes. This one lasted a lot longer. Bristol City were evidently out of luck when it came to quick-fire replies, Skuse’s shot rattling the crossbar after 75 minutes amidst the torrent of Robins substitutes that completely dogged the final quarter of the game (why they couldn’t just make them all at once I’ll never know). They did equalise. Eventually. The goal came two minutes into stoppage time just when I was starting to think ahead to a potentially glorious press conference on Monday morning. As it was, Akinde half-volleyed a shot on the run that bounced across Fletcher and dropped in the far corner, despite the best efforts of Hogarth’s swinging a leg at it. -------- FINAL SCORE (att - 2449) Luton Town 3 (Nicholls 45pen, Bowditch 56, Kearns 68) Bristol City 3 (Johnson 48, Wright-Phillips 61, Akinde 90+2) -------- Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Unknown Hacker Posted September 2, 2011 Share Posted September 2, 2011 Lucky that City managed to salvage a draw against you because otherwise I'd've had a paddy and never read your story again... Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted September 2, 2011 Author Share Posted September 2, 2011 Alls well that ends well then! ---------------- 02/08/10 - Tinseltown awaits I got called into a meeting with Bob and Glynn this morning. The reason wasn’t immediately clear. It didn’t become any clearer when I arrived in Bob’s office and saw a bearded man with them. I assumed he was middle-aged at first, but on closer inspection I saw the guy was actually more about my age. He looked as I’d feared Darren might look like after getting back from South America. “James!” said Glynn, rising as I came further into the room. “I’d like you to meet Ricky Page-Tansell. Ricky, this is James”. “How ya doin, bud?” Ricky enquired, offering his hand. “Just fine” I replied. Bob and Glynn were sat behind Bob’s desk. Me and Ricky had the two seats in front. Allowing myself another glance at Ricky’s beard, as well as his extremely slack dress sense – white tracksuit bottoms with a turquoise jacket – it was hard for me to guess who on earth he was meant to be and what he was doing here. “Right then” said Bob. “Let’s get down to business”. “And what is the business?” “Well, James” Glynn continued, taking up the reigns. “Let me ask you this; have you seen the film Death Count?” “The horror film? With the guy in the gorilla mask who goes around slaughtering people for the sake of it? Yeah, sure, I’ve seen it. Saw it with my girlfriend last year. Ex-girlfriend”. “Well, what you may not know is that it was a British production, filmed in nearby Watford, in fact. Due to budget constraints the whole thing was shot in the same local sports complex”. “Yeah, I already knew that. So what?” “Well, how would you feel about the sequel being filmed here in Luton? At Kenilworth Road”. Should have seen that coming really. Once again I glanced at Ricky, he who looked like Jesus (were Jesus ever to have a JSA meeting down at the local job centre). So who exactly was this guy then? The producer? “Ricky is the director of Death Count” Bob informed me, perhaps guessing my thoughts. “And he’s also going to be directing the second film”. “The full title is Death Count 2 : More Death” said Ricky. “That’s – catchy” I told him. “Yeah. It’s gonna be f__king immense”. “Why do you want to film here though?” “Well, once again the budget is gonna be small, so we knew it had to be another one location shoot. Just so happens I spotted this place on Spiritseekers one night. And then it hit me! I thought to myself – why not do the sequel in a football ground?! I mean what a great venue for a horror film! Never been done before, right? And also, this place has actual real ghosts, you know, those dudes from the ancient Indian burial ground, so that’s an added bonus as far as publicity for the film is concerned". “Yeah, about that Indian burial ground thing – “ “James” interrupted Glynn with a smile. “This is a done deal, so don’t you go putting any spanners in any works now. Death Count 2 WILL be shot at Kenilworth Road. Pre-production is scheduled to begin in just a couple of weeks”. Be that as it may, there was still an issue here about how much the filming would affect the day to day running of my club. I noted first hand during the Spiritseekers production just how much equipment and other assorted crap a film crew needs to have around when they shoot. And that was just for some two bit television programme nobody watches! What would the chaos be like in here for the filming of a full length movie?! Not that I ended up bothering to raise my concern. What would be the point? Obviously this whole thing was already well in motion. They’d only brought me in to tell me about it out of courtesy, that and maybe because they were hoping I’d break the news to the office staff and players so they didn’t have to do it. “Hey, tell him the best bit” Bob chuckled in the direction of Ricky. “Oh yeah. Get this, friend, how would you feel about actually starring in the film too?” “Excuse me?” “Well, for the original film, we had eight professional actors playing the principal roles and for everyone else we just used the employees of the actual sports complex. Saved us money. We figure we’ll do the same thing this time around”. “You want me to act in your movie?” “Not just you; your players, your backroom staff, anyone who works here. Don’t look so worried! We’ve already cast pros in all the main roles. We just need an extra bunch of folk to star as the gorilla killer’s many victims. Chances are you’ll only be in one scene. Two at most. The gorilla killer will get you and then you'll be done”. I turned and looked at Glynn and Bob, both of whom were smiling. Then I looked back at Ricky. “Forget it. I’m no actor. Use anyone else in here you can persuade to do it but leave me out of it. And when it comes to players, make sure you don’t use them on match days or training days. If you do, we’ll be having strong words. Other than that, enjoy our hospitality and err, well, have fun, I suppose”. Shaking Ricky’s hand again, I gave one more disparaging glance in the direction of Bob and Glynn and then rose to leave. Just after I’d trudged to the door and opened it, I heard a muffled noise behind me. Looking over my shoulder, it was then I saw the faces of two gorillas. Both of them had human arms which they now used to wave high above their sides whilst simultaneously making roar noises. Instinctively I flinched in surprise and let an ‘oh’ sound escape from my mouth. Then Bob and Glynn took their masks off. They were laughing underneath. “Ha!” said bob. “Told you that would get him going! You sure you don't want to be in it, James? I reckon you'd make an excellent victim if that reaction's anything to go by". “Hehe” – Glynn. “Wow” I said sarcastically. “You guys are really funny! Not”. Then I walked out. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted September 3, 2011 Author Share Posted September 3, 2011 04/08/10 - Sailing close to the abyss (‘F.Y.I, that article has probably been changed about ten times by people since I first wrote it! When I first wrote it I more or less told the truth of what happened between me and you. But they said it wasn’t sexy enough. They said I needed to write in a more sexy way. They said I needed to be more - I dunno - in control – whatever – so then it was changed so that I was the one who did the dumping. Sometime after that they probably added the other stuff’) Chantelle's words continued to bounce around my head long after I drove away from her street. I just couldn’t decide for myself how true they were. Ringing up the actual magazine wouldn’t get me to the bottom of it; they were bound to claim the piece was completely unedited from top to bottom, even if hadn’t been. I was just chilling out at home tonight. Watching TV. Thinking. Watching TV. Thinking. Thinking about Darlington. Watching TV. Thinking about Chantelle. Thinking about her in that magazine. Watching TV. Stroking Bambi. Watching TV. Not much on TV though. Thinking about Darlington. Thinking about Chantelle. God she looked good in those photos. Darlington. Chantelle. Photos. Chantelle. Chantelle and her magazine shoot. Argh! Moving to the window where the home phone was, I picked it up and began to dial a number I didn’t need to check the phonebook for. ‘Can’t believe I’m doing this’. Six rings and it was answered. “Hello?” enquired a voice on the other end. “Hi, it’s James”. “Oh. What do you want?” “I just wanted to apologise for the other day – the other week even – when I came around about that magazine piece. If your article truly was edited then I’m sorry for just assuming that the final version was yours. I should have checked with you first before storming around all guns blazing”. After I’d finished, Chantelle hesitated. In the distant background I could hear Luke kicking his Chelsea football around in the hallway. “And what’s made you ring up now to say this?” “I don’t know. I just kept putting it off for a while, I guess”. “Well you might as well not have bothered. I don’t really care to be honest”. “Regardless, I had to say because it I owe you it. Whether you’re bothered or not is your business”. “Okay fine. If it makes you feel any better I accept your damn apology”. “Thanks”. She didn’t reply again, quickly making me search for something else to say. “So err, how’s Luke doing then?” Cue another hesitation at the other end. I guess she might now have been wondering if I had an ulterior motive other than the apology. Come to think of it, I was wondering the same thing. Even though I’d only meant to call up to say sorry, now I was feeling, what? What was I feeling? I certainly wanted to keep on talking. I know that much. I don’t know whether said feeling was coming from my head, my heart, or from something much lower down, but I definitely didn’t want to hang up the phone yet. “Since when have you cared about Luke?” Chantelle eventually asked. “I was just curious”. “Yeah well don’t be”. “Okay then, how have you been?” “Me?” “Yeah. You”. “I’m just fine! Why all the sudden interest in me and Luke?” Now my true desires were coming into focus. I didn’t just want to have some random talk on the phone about random cr_p, I wanted to go around there – to her place – and then – and then – ‘And then take her like you’ve never taken her before! And then after that life can go back to the way it used to be, when you used to feel good about yourself on an evening. Why deny yourself that? Why deny yourself what you’ve secretly been yearning for?’ “I tell you what” said Chantelle, interrupting my daydream. “Why don’t you call me back when the cat hasn’t got your tongue?” The line went dead. Wiping a trace of sweat away from my forehead, I put the receiver back down and returned to the couch. I only sat down for a minute. After that I grabbed my car keys and headed for the door. I wanted to get that magazine out of the car. It wouldn’t do for someone to pick it up and read it the next time I had guests in there. That had almost happened the other night with Darren. No, I needed to get it out of there and bring it into the flat where it would safe. ‘Or are you just getting it from the car because you want to have another peek at it?’ Now that was just silly! Of course I wasn’t! And to prove it, I turned on my heels halfway to the car and came back up without the magazine. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
ScottleeSV Posted September 4, 2011 Author Share Posted September 4, 2011 05/08/10 - Making an effort “It’s just a friendly warning that’s going around to everyone. Encroachments over the touchline will simply not be tolerated in the football league this season. Everyone’s getting the heads up, James, not just you”. “Yeah okay, I get it. Thanks”. The guy said his goodbyes and so did I. Then I hung up the phone and drained the last of my coffee. I’d braved the communal office today, despite the fact the atmosphere remained as dead as ever. We had a full house again now – me, Brenda, Nicky, Darren, and Kindra. Despite this, it might as well have been just me, Nicky, and Brenda again. Nobody was talking to anybody. Allowing myself a quick glance around the room, I noted everyone’s body language and tried to decide who was the mostly likely to deflate the tension. Somebody had to do it. Eventually. Things couldn’t stay this way all season, surely? Nicky looked passive and wholly uninterested in her surroundings. Her smile was absent and she appeared to be working harder than was usual for her. Darren was hardly working hard at all. He bore the constant impression at the moment of a man who had been beaten around the side of the head by something invisible and now couldn’t work out where the next blow was coming from. In essence he was right in the middle of that unpleasant mental place the rest of us had been in seven or eight weeks ago. As for Brenda, she seemed to be more or less back to her normal self. Having said that, because Brenda has always been someone who reacts to conversations rather than creates them, her return to normal Brenda hadn’t really done much for anyone else. And then there was Kindra. Not much chance of fireworks there. The poor girl had already been bored into submission long before today. Brenda still occasionally spoke to her when she wasn’t sure about something. Aside from that, the newcomer could probably only sit in wonderment right now at how she’d ended up in such a morbid office. But sometimes it only takes one spark to turn a bad situation around. It can come from something so simple too. It can even be unintentional. To use football commentary cliché, there didn’t appear to be any danger on when I noticed Nicky staring at Kindra some twenty minutes later. In fact, if anything, I thought she might have been fixing her some evils (which would have been a shame, if the case). It turned out I was doing Nicky a disservice. Still without smiling she picked her mug up and walked over to her. Kindra almost did a double take when she saw who was coming, as if maybe she thought was going to get a long overdue bop in the mouth for taking Caroline’s job. But then a ray of light in troubled waters! “I’m going to make a drink. Would you like one, Kindra?” “Err, sure. I’ll have – a cup of tea. Thanks!" “Milk and sugar?” “Just milk. No sugar”. “Okay”. Nicky then began the laborious process of asking the rest of us if we wanted a drink. Bar Darren everyone did. For Kindra meanwhile, the colour in her cheeks had returned and her back was suddenly a lot more upright. It was obvious her workday morale had just taken a major boost. When Nicky finally wandered into the kitchen area carrying four mugs, I followed her in. “Hey” I whispered in her ear, moving around the other side of her so she was between me and the office area. “Hi” she said back, beginning to fill the kettle. “Thanks for that”. “For what?” “Making an effort. With Kindra. Some people in your position might not have done. Tell you the truth I’ve been thinking all week of ways we could get a more comfortable atmosphere back in here. I came up with all sorts of stuff too – lunchtime bingo, a lunchtime quiz, admin night out. None of them seemed any good. I should have just done what you did; simple things”. Nicky turned and smiled but didn’t seem to know how to actually reply. Instead she resumed concentration on what she was doing, namely preparing the drinks for when the kettle had boiled. “Anyway” I continued, briefly putting my hand on her shoulder. “Keep up the good work”. Then I went back to my desk. Time for the next item on my day's agenda, namely goalkeeper Lars Stubhaug's request for a £5000 bonus to be written into his contract for every goal he scores. 'Hmmmm'. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Chao Yang Posted September 4, 2011 Share Posted September 4, 2011 As long as he's no Rogerio Ceni, I think you'll save some money there! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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