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As press conferences go this was a 1st, even for this part of the world. The new manager had arrived late, and in the company of an unexpected companion. Yet the few assembled journalists had waited patiently, and boy were they in for a treat. "Do they not have watches in England?" The cross the border hazing started immediately, well... they had been waiting a while. "They do," The new manager replied without missing a beat as he pulled out a chair, that his companion promptly hopped onto. "Though where I come from we don't name our football stadiums after housing estates, my sat nav took me to Mrs Jones house at number 1 Penydarren Park." "Ehm... didn't you notice you were in the wrong place?" "Well obviously... but I needed to use the facilities, Mrs Jones was more than accommodating, though she needs nicer toilet paper, feel like I've just sand blasted my crack." This statement was met with more than a few moments of silence and clearing of throats. "So why, other than Mrs Jones hospitality did you decide to apply for a job at Mertyr Town?" "You mean, why in my right mind did WE," There is a moment as he makes an inclusive gesture that takes in himself and his companion, "Want to come and manage in the arse end of the Brecon Beacons? Well, the short answer is, the internet told me to." "Excuse me?" "Did you know, Rudolf Hess attended greyhound racing here? if it's good enough for the deputy Fuhrer of the 3rd Reich, then it is good enough for me." There wasn't even the sound of clearing throats now, just the silence of blank stares and much blinking. The companion took this moment to vigorously scratch his ear. "Also, during the Roman occupation, this site was used as their military camp, this place has history, who wouldn't want to manage here!" "You said, the internet told you to come here?" One of the journalists managed to reengage his brain into 1st gear. "Indeed, you know that movie, with the fat guy and thin guy, the penguin, they are on a mission from god, has loads of awesome music in it." "The Blues Brothers?" "Carrie Fisher with a rocket launcher, man if that doesn't give you wood I've no idea what will.... anyway, it's like that, you can't see god, you can't see the internet, but people see fit to believe both exist." "Are you comparing the internet to religion?" "Religion is anything that an individual chooses to pursue with great faith and devotion, my personal religions are football and rock music. We will build a church here, and in the immortal words of the prophet Bon Scott, it's a long way to the top....." Finally his companion broke his silence, with an almighty bark, the ginger terrier standing on his chair and wagging his tail wildly. ".... if you want a sausage roll, that's exactly right Morris." With that, the press conference came to an end. So yes, I intend to attempt the dafuge challenge of bringing a previously unmanageable team to the pinnacle of domestic and European dominance. I intend to offset this rather serious and lofty pursuit by fooling around with religion, rock and roll, and my dog Morris As there is nothing more rock and roll than wearing a bra as a bib.
It's a mystery to me, the game commences for the usual fee, plus expenses, it's public plagiation, it's a diary, this is my experimentation, it's not a confidential inquiry. I go checking out the reports, digging up the dirt you get to meet all sorts in this line of work, treachery and treason there's always an excuse for it and when I find the reason... I still can't get used to it and what have you got, at the end of the day? What have you got to take away? A set of tactics and a new set of ties. Blinds on a window and a pain behind the eyes, scarred for life... No compensation, public experimentation's. John Smith