Richey Posted January 8, 2004 Author Share Posted January 8, 2004 February 4th 2012 Tottenham had slumped to the foot of the table, losing all of their games since beating Bradford Park Avenue in the cup. They had scored a grand total of 2 goals, and Michael couldn't give a monkeys. Although injured, and a professional footballer by trade (you wouldn't know it would you?) he wasn't paying that much attention to the goings on at White Hart Lane. His book had ricocheted to number 3 in the literary charts, and he had framed all the reviews he'd received as they were all absolutely fantastic. "The next big thing in football writing!" "I can't wait for his next masterpiece!" "A real moron, but a fantastic writer!" He finished ogling the wall, and swivelled round in his new ultra-swivelly writers chair so that he faced his newly acquired antique mahogany desk. He picked up his platinum plated fountain pen, hovered it above the page, and waited for the inspiration for a new book to hit him like a bolt of lightning... Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted January 8, 2004 Author Share Posted January 8, 2004 February 6th 2012 ...Still no inspiration. Michael looked at his watch. He had been sitting here for 2 days. The first thought that hit him was, "Wow, I really need the toilet" and the second was, "Agh, too late." Sopping wet, he nipped upstairs and handed the offending garments to McHugh O'McScottish, who was lying at the top of the staircase a good 3 metres from his severed arm. Michael tutted loudly at the Scotsmans tardiness and put the arm in the waste-paper basket. On second thoughts he decided to open the door to the East Wing and give it to the lions and tigers and so forth. He opened the door a crack and hurled it in. There was an ear splitting racket and the sound of a window being smashed before the noise settled to reveal a lot of contented chomping. McHugh, semi conscious on the ground muttered Scottishly under his breath something about whether he could have his arm back. Michael realised his little faux pas and tiptoed off, hoping the semi-conscious Scotsman hadn't noticed him. Since becoming a literary darling, Michael had been inundated with calls from the worlds most gorgeous women begging for dates. This didn't explain why he was going out for a date with Janet Ffolkes-Plompton, the winner of a recent television talent contest where contestants had to compete for the honour of having as many Badger characteristics as possible. He decided he was due to start getting ready, as she was calling for him at 6. He disappeard into his bedroom, and didn't emerge until sometime later when he heard the doorbel ring. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
BobBev Posted January 8, 2004 Share Posted January 8, 2004 He's back and as funny as ever Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Doddy Posted January 9, 2004 Share Posted January 9, 2004 … too right, Brilliant, keep up the good work! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Brian of Nazareth Posted January 9, 2004 Share Posted January 9, 2004 <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Richey: <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by I'm Not Ruud: Have you seen the article about Michael being wanted by Aston Villa? I cracked up when I saw that; it made me think of this story. I hope he's not really as dumb as he looks. Keep it up!!<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Yeah, I read that this morning, It cracked me up too. If he joins Villa it proves he must be a bit dim! :-) Rich<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Otherwise this is still a wonderfully entertaining story. Happy New Year and glad this is back Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted January 12, 2004 Author Share Posted January 12, 2004 February 6th 2012 His nerves going haywire, Michael opened the door to reveal Janet Ffolkes-Plompton, winner of Badger Idol. He gazed adoringly over her, taking in her curiously elongated face, and the soft white and black hairs that covered her face. She opened her mouth to reveal two prominent front teeth, and lumbered into the house. Michael, the gentleman as always, took her coat and hung it up in the cloakroom. He guided the tall, elegant lady/badger into the drawing room where they engaged in polite conversation as to the current state of politics, and the unusual strength of the currency of Kryzygstan in the open market. After an hour of this frivolous fun, Michael took her by the hairy hand and guided her to the back of his limousine, where McHugh O'McScottish was due to drive them for a night on the tiles at the world's most exclusive nightspot ChinWellies. He had disowned the traditional footballer-friendly places as being for the "common person", as he was now one of the elite. Upon arrival, he flashed his member card, much to the disgust of the doorman. Hurriedly, he put it away and produced his members card, which was accepted without too much fuss. He made a mental note to keep the pictures of his member to himself. To go producing it in public simply would not do. After a wild night, sipping champagne and laughing about poor people, McHugh drove Janet Ffolkes-Plompton home to her house in Warren Street and returned to pick up a slightly bedraggled Michael, who he unceremoniously shoved in the back of the limo. After all, Michael had a light physiotherapy session tomorrow, followed by the F.A. Cup Second Round tie between Spurs and First Division Crewe. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted January 12, 2004 Author Share Posted January 12, 2004 February 7th 2012 Darren Anderton Memorial Physiotherapy Wing, White Hart Lane Nursing a killer hangover, Michael did some gentle upper body exercises while the new club doctor Fergal Bagpuss stood around and stroked his chin concernedly. Michael, I'm worried about your overall fitness. Have you been doing any exercise at home? Oh yes Michael lied earnestly, I wake up at 6 every morning and go on a 29 mile run. At 9am I go swimming until 9pm, and in the evening I lift weights. The doctor shrugged and ambled off, and Michael basked in the glory of his own intelligence and cunning. There weren't many footballers as clever as him surely. He finished his upper body workout and swung his feet around so that he could put his shoes on. After half an hour of trying he called the doctor back to help him. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted January 12, 2004 Author Share Posted January 12, 2004 <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by BobBev: He's back and as funny as ever <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Thankyou! Its good to be back. I hope i can keep this one going! Rich Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted January 12, 2004 Author Share Posted January 12, 2004 <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Doddy: … too right, Brilliant, keep up the good work!<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Cheers mate, I'll try Rich Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted January 12, 2004 Author Share Posted January 12, 2004 <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Brian of Nazareth: <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Richey: <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by I'm Not Ruud: Have you seen the article about Michael being wanted by Aston Villa? I cracked up when I saw that; it made me think of this story. I hope he's not really as dumb as he looks. Keep it up!!<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Yeah, I read that this morning, It cracked me up too. If he joins Villa it proves he must be a bit dim! :-) Rich<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Otherwise this is still a wonderfully entertaining story. Happy New Year and glad this is back <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> I'm glad its back too! I still hope he doesn't join Villa though. Heh heh heh Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted January 20, 2004 Author Share Posted January 20, 2004 February 7th 2012 F.A. Cup Fourth Round (apologies, I put 2nd round up there before!) Spurs v Crewe Michael settled himself into the crowd for the big game. Well, it wasn't exactly big, but they had a chance of winning at least which was temporary relief from being a complete pile of penguin turd in the Premiership. Janet Ffolkes-Plompton had not showed up. Michael was concerned and made a mental note to himself to call her afterwards. The game was a fast paced, fluid affair full of end to end passing and moving. Crewe drew first blood much to the chagrin of the Spurs supporters when Brazillian Valdimar took the ball from the halfway line past 3 defenders, before sending Ian Cross onto his backside while he slotted it easily past the sprawling 'keeper. Spurs equalised 17 minutes later on 22 after a good move by Donovan in attacking midfield was finished with a deft lob from the outside of the six yard box by Jamie Crosby. The youngster scored a second after 43 minutes after he was felled in the box by a messy Hayden Mullins challenge and converted the penalty. Exactly a minute later Crewe restored parity when Mullins redeemed himself by heading in a far post Peter Crouch corner which deflected off the hapless Ian Cross. The second half was just as fast and furious as the first, but without a further goal until 81 minutes when Crewe scored a third through the mercurial Valdimar who slammed home a swerving free kick from about 30 yards out. Just as the home supporters were heading for the exit substitute Ben May scored almost directly after the re-start after the Crewe 'keeper fluffed a clearance straight to him. On 90 minutes Spurs averted a tricky replay at Gresty Road when Noel Mehne, a 16 year old German academy kid scored on his debut with a well placed shot from 20 yards. Michael cheered at the final whistle, but hurt deeply inside at being stood up by Janet. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted January 20, 2004 Author Share Posted January 20, 2004 February 8th 2012 Loser Dawson Stood Up as Spurs Win Michael Dawson, without a doubt the worst player anywhere in the world, ever was stood up yesterday by Badger-Idol winner Janet Ffolkes-Plompton as Spurs recorded a rare victory at the Lane. He was seen to be looking highly despondent in the West Stand Upper by our secret source (Eric McKenzie) who we can't name (Eric McKenzie). Not only a crap footballer, but also a crap lover. A spokesman for Miss Ffolkes-Plompton said that she was unable to comment, but mentioned that her client had in fact been busy, "messing about on the river" with her close friends Mr. Ratty, Mr. Mole, and Mr. Toad. Our secret photographer (Eric McKenzie) who we can't name for legal reasons (Eric McKenzie) managed to get exclusive pictures of Miss Ffolkes Plompton relaxing in the grounds of Mr. Toads ancestral home, Toad Hall, set in the delightful Hertfordshire Countryside, adjacent to the Wild Wood. For a glimpse of these astonishing pictures, turn to page 6. Boris Broomstick Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Posted January 20, 2004 Share Posted January 20, 2004 lol. your story's so good i was actually looking for a page 6 to turn to for those pictures. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted January 22, 2004 Author Share Posted January 22, 2004 <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by nard: lol. your story's so good i was actually looking for a page 6 to turn to for those pictures.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Thanks, I'd show them, but i lost them, behind the err.... fridge. Rich Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted January 22, 2004 Author Share Posted January 22, 2004 February 19th 2012 Press Conference - White Hart Lane Michael was feeling really agitated. He had spent the morning with Gulbuddin Hekmatyar in the coffee shop debating possible titles for his new novel, when his agent, Horace had called to say the media was going wild about a possible move to Torpedo Moscow. He commanded McHugh to drive him to White Hart Lane for an impromptu press conference. As he sat there, the lights of cameras flashed all around him. Through the glare he spotted Mercury Underwear, the star reporter of Hat Knitters Bi-Annual Newsletter, and Fembly Gringle, the star reporter for Pipe Smokers Monthly. It was true he was secretly angling for a move away from the hapless Spurs, but to Russia? He'd rather shave his own backside with a combine harvester. In the last week or so since the cup win, Spurs were kings of the bottom of the league. The desolate run looked like going on for ever. Even now, relegation was certain. When he returned from injury he didn't want to be playing for some lower division outfit. He was Michael Dawson, the best footballer in the world! Finally, a reporter posed the question: So, is it true you are in talks with Torpedo Moscow over a move to Russia? No, it most certainly isn't. I am very happy to stay at Spurs, especially since they are paying for my rehabilitation as well as paing me an absolute fortune to do diddley-squat. Mercury Underpants spoke up, On behalf of the loyal readers of the Hat Knitters Bi-Annual Newsletter could you tell us why you don't want to move to Russia, if, indeed, your claim to want to stay here, is true? Well Mercury, it comes down to two things really. Firstly I watch a lot of television, and i have learned that Russia is cold, and it snows a lot. Secondly, I can't speak Russian. Oh, to hell with it, I hate poor people, and Russia is full of them, oh, and Torpedo Moscow are absolutely terrible. There were shocked gasps all around at Michaels rudeness and sheer judgemental vulgarity. Fembly Gringle nervously stood up, Michael, On behalf of Pipe Smokers Monthly, I'd just like to ask you the question that is on the tip of every pipe smokers tongue (apart from a pipe), Will your next book feature pipe smoking? Oh for christs sake, you've ruined it now... And with that, Michael strode out in tears, leaving the worlds media assembled, silent in disbelief. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
LukeatNFFC Posted January 22, 2004 Share Posted January 22, 2004 Better than Rio, quite literally, and ironically, those Spuds are after Super Michael Dawson in real life. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted January 23, 2004 Author Share Posted January 23, 2004 February 20th 2012 Chez Dawson Michael sat hunched like a ball in his study. His creative juices were flowing and the novel was coming along well. He had woken up at midnight, suddenly hit by a new bolt of inspiration, which surprised him after the debacle of the media finding out somehow that his next book featured pipe smoking as a central theme. He discarded the old manuscript, provisionally entitled "Mr Watkins and his Magic Pipe" and set to work on the new one. He was truly inspired. At midday, the doorbell rang, and Joe Cole, Michaels best friend came striding in, his new beehive hairdo swaying alarmingly in the breeze. Joe put his handbag down, sat down and joined Michael for a spot of midday tea. Michael showed him his ideas for his next masterpiece, and Joe's beady little eyes glowed with wonderment, as he perused the page. Michael, he said, This one's going to be a hit! Michael grinned inanely, and laughed. He laughed louder than he'd ever done before. He laughed so loud, that 4 tigers were disturbed from their slumber, and in a fit of rage tossed 7 antique Georgian Armchairs out of the third floor window. Michael was poised to take over the world (in a literary sense, of course.) Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted January 23, 2004 Author Share Posted January 23, 2004 February 25th 2012 Irkutsk Province, Russia An old man slammed his fist down on the rickety hamster-powered television, and hurled his empty bottle of illegal vodka at the screen. His state of drunkeness was such, that he missed the television screen by several miles, and sank a small boat in an adjacent lake. Vladimir O'Vodka, a former KGB agent, was most incensed by what he had just seen on the television. A footballer from England had insulted the motherland, and referred to Torpedo Moscow as being crap. He would make him pay for his insolence. He burst open the door and stepped out into the snow. His beard withstood the onslaught of the howling wind as he stumbled into the night. He knew what he had to do. He went to a small phone box and had a wee. One thing was certain. Michael Dawson was going to pay. He didn't know how yet, but all he knew was that he had to do something, for the honour of the motherland! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Doddy Posted January 23, 2004 Share Posted January 23, 2004 Interesting, the amazing tale of Michael Dawson is developing. Ahhh, and you can always trust good old Joe Cole to be the judge of a hit book! Keep it up Richey!!! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted January 26, 2004 Author Share Posted January 26, 2004 Yes, Joe is extremely intelligent. In fact he can count the number of toes he has, all the way up to 8. Bless him! Rich Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted January 26, 2004 Author Share Posted January 26, 2004 March 1st 2012 Chez Dawson Bleary eyed and full of beard, Michael stumbled down to breakfast. McHugh whipped him up a few pancakes, which proved difficult as he had lost his arm several weeks previously. Michael didn't care about McHugh's pain though, and he ate his pancakes with a palpable air of arrogance. Michael had heard some good news the previous day. His ligament injusry appeared to be clearing up faster than anticipated. He was due to resume light training in a few days, with an eye to being fit possibly before the last game of the season. He didn't care that much to be honest. He had been up all night working on his book, which explained him being large of beard, and bleary of eyes. It was turning out to be a real cracker. The provisional title was: Thigh Will Be Done It was an erotic thriller, set in medieval times, but with cars. Michael felt it was an outrageously hip idea. His story focused around the hero Barry Mental, a cop from the Bronx who sailed to Medieval Czechoslovakia in a Viking Ship. Barry Mental was also a closet porn magnate, with a vast empire of dirty medieval magazines (Jesters Wives, Banquet Whores, etc) Once in Czechoslovakia, Barry teamed up with Morris Minor, an alcoholic washed up Car Salesman, and Gloria Naughty, a lapdancer to fight the evil forces of the Romans, and Emperor Caligula. Michael was up to a crucial point where Gloria Naughty and Barry Mental are dancing naked in a country pub. He was currently wondering how to tie that particular bit into the story as a whole. That explained more specifically why he was looking so haggard that morning. He couldn't wait to finish the story and send it to his publisher. It was bound to be a big hit. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted January 28, 2004 Author Share Posted January 28, 2004 March 5th 2012 Arsenal v Spurs Michael made the short trip to Highbury and sat in the brand new Sol Campbell Judas Stand, complete with frilly little doilies on every seat. Spurs actually started the better, to Michaels surprise. Freddy Adu tested the keeper in the first minute with a bending, swerving shot from the edge of the 'D'. Arsenal soaked up the pressure for the rest of the half, looking uncomfortably under the cosh. The second half began with Fabrice Wessel, the Arsenal full-back running the entire length of the pitch, playing a one two with Pablo Aimar before placing it past Evans in the Spurs goal. Spurs didn't give up, and placed Arsenal under severe pressure, which paid off when in the 77th minute Jamie Crosby toe poked home after a Nico Kranjcar corner had bobbled around in the penalty area. Spurs held on, and were good value for the draw, but the harsh facts were that unless a couple of wins were forthcoming, the once mighty North London club would be playing in Division One next season. Michael went home in his Limousine, with McHugh driving as he usually did. As Michael looked wistfully out at the grey London sky, McHugh mentioned in an understating tone, Meechel, Ah reed yer buke, and ah hev tae say, it's feckin sheete. Michael took off his shoe, and walloped the insolent Scotsman in the back of the head. The car veered off the road and into a local cafe. Michael got out, and began the long walk back home. After a while, he found himself in the Shetland Isles. Concluding he had taken a wrong turning, he went back the other way. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 6, 2004 Author Share Posted February 6, 2004 March 13th 2012 Chez Dawson Michael was munching his toast and watching the TV when a parcel plopped through the letterbox, and landed with a ker-floof on the shag-pile carpet. Like a hungry lizard, Michael darted to the front door, and opened the parcel with great enthusiasm. Flomp - His manuscript fell out. That wasn't supposed to happen! There was also a letter... Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 6, 2004 Author Share Posted February 6, 2004 Dear Michael, We regret to inform you that we think your story is a big heap of pants. Whilst we recognise that you are a promising author, this book simply doesn't match up to expectations. However, we liked the character of Barry Mental, and can see him in a detectives role. This could be an avenue to consider? Owing to our friendly agreement and contract we would like a new manuscript on our desk within three days or someone will come round and snap your neck in half. Cheerio, Winston Churchmound P.S. Lucky Spurs win last night eh? 2-1 against West Ham! Who would have thought it. That Jamie Crosby's a cert for the Euro 2012 Championships. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 6, 2004 Author Share Posted February 6, 2004 Michael was in a bit of a crisis. He really didn't need a broken neck... He was nearly back to normal. A broken neck would most likely put a further dent in his disappearing football career. Unless he invented a form of neck brace. He discarded that idea as he didn't have the raw materials at his disposal. He rushed to his desk, and whipped out his laptop, proceeding to type faster than he had even typed before. 7 Hours Later Finally,he had a complete manuscript, entitled Barry Mental and the Case of the Disappearing Hat. He thought it vastly inferior to his previous effort, but had taken on board the ideas given by the publishing company and re-cast Barry Mental as a washed up alcoholic New York Detective on one last case, with his sidekick, a talking dog called 'Chip'. The story revolved around Barry going to a hip bar in New York called The Odeon and losing his old fedora hat. The story chartered his race across America to retrieve it from Mr. Big, a Mafia Hitman who needed the hat to escape being identified as a murderer by a really short sighted person with a small brain. Barry's adventure took him and 'Chip' his faithful talking mutt, on an alcohol fuelled journey to Los Angeles. The book ended with a fight on Sunset Boulevard where Barry got his hat back. The twist to the story was that after all was done, he sobered up and realised that 'Chip' his magical talking dog was actually a dwarf, but as Barry had been permanently drunk he simply hadn't noticed. Michael stuck it in a parcel and popped it in the post. He then said a prayer or two in the hope of avoiding a neck related accident. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Doddy Posted February 6, 2004 Share Posted February 6, 2004 I don't know how you do it, but you seem to be keeping up the humour. Michael’s certainly had a whirlwind career, but where will it go next? Now, I can’t see the Barry and his friend Chip being a hit, though you never know. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 9, 2004 Author Share Posted February 9, 2004 March 20th 2012 Chigwell Undergoing light training, Michael was jogging gently around the perimeter of one of the five-a-side pitches with Jamie Crosby, who looked a bit shaken. He was looking a bit shaken because he had just asked for a transfer and had been yelled at. As the clubs most bankable asset, Crosby was also the best player. 21 goals so far for a team in 20th place and with no way out of trouble. The reasoning was simple, Jamie felt he had to show his ambition to achieve better things. He was practically a cert for the England Squad at Euro 2012 in Spain and was attracting Atletico Madrid, Lecce and bayer Leverkusen, among others. Michael, however, had been injured for around seven hundred years and was nearing fitness. He was also technically up for sale but had no interest apart from the odd club in Russia and on one occasion, from 2nd Division Hartlepool. He was surer than ever before that he wanted to leave Spurs, and vowed to get fit as quick as he could, to make an impact on the England manager, Richard Rowe. Maybe, just maybe he could sneak into the squad. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Thunder Bolt Posted February 11, 2004 Share Posted February 11, 2004 This should be a candidate for the SI Hall of Fame. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 12, 2004 Author Share Posted February 12, 2004 <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Doddy: I don't know how you do it, but you seem to be keeping up the humour. Michael’s certainly had a whirlwind career, but where will it go next? Now, I can’t see the Barry and his friend Chip being a hit, though you never know. <HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Well, Michaels career gets a teensy bit better but then the predictable thing happens. I've never played a game before where one player manages to get injured so much...! as for Barry Mental and Chip... we'll have to see if it becomes a success. Its kind of linked with that old drunken insane guy in Russia. There's a clue! Rich Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 12, 2004 Author Share Posted February 12, 2004 <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Thunder Bolt: This should be a candidate for the SI Hall of Fame.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Thankyou Thunder Bolt! Rich Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest Thunder Bolt Posted February 13, 2004 Share Posted February 13, 2004 Pleasure. I've only read a few stories on here, so i'm by no means an expert...but I'm loving this one. Can we get a mods opinion on my recommendation? Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 16, 2004 Author Share Posted February 16, 2004 March 21st 2012 Chez Dawson Michael sat lazily in the kitchen, as McHugh, newly bandaged after his latest romp in with the ferocious big cats, emptied a tin of stewed gazelle into a big bowl. Michael lazily picked up an elastic band and flicked it at McHugh. The dour squeaky-voiced Chinese accented Scotsman yelped in pain and scurried off for feeding time. Approximately one minute later, blood curdling screams emanated from upstairs along with the sound of ripping flesh. Michael sighed and rolled his eyes. He wasn't going to do anything about it. He'd just come back from training and couldn't be bothered with such domestic matters. The telephone rang. Had it been a few millimetres away he would have ignored it, but as he was holding it anyway, he figured it would be a dreadful injustice not to answer it. He picked it up and drawled a half baked "hello" to whomever was calling. "Miiiiiiikeeeeeeey, daaahling!" Oh christ, it was his agent, Horace. Errrr..... Hello, this is Michael Dawson here. I'm not home at the moment, so please leave a message after the beep. A loud roar of laughter emanated from the giant lungs of the worlds fattest agent. Haaaaaaa, Mikeeeey, me old chum. You rogue! Listen I've got news. The books in print, and is being shipped out tomorrow. Well that was good news, Michael privately mused. Cheers Horace, errr.... bye... Mikey, Mikey m'boy! Horace interrupted, we need to negotiate my fee! What? But you haven't done anything? Horace fell silent. A few seconds passed. Well then Mikey boy, I need my cut for doing nothing! It's called professional discretion. Michael had to admit that it sounded impressive, and would therefore be true. He willingly submitted 30% of any income, plus image rights for the next 67 years as a result of any positive publicity gained from the book. Word on the street is, Mikey boy, that the book is a work of genius! Smugness kicked in, and Michael waxed lyrical about his abilities as a writer of prose, and his subtle grasp of the literary arts. Horace made his excuses and hung up. Michael placed the phone down on the table. He glanced out of the window, and saw McHugh drop to the ground from somewhere above, followed by a large Siberian tiger which landed on top of him and began to pull his toes out of their sockets. He was well and truly an author now! Tomorrow Barry Mental would hit the shops and hopefully Barry fever would sweep the world. He opened the Daily Rhetoric to page 19 and found that they would be reviewing it tomorrow as well. This was the second most exciting day in Michaels life. The first most exciting day would surely be the 22nd of March. The nervous anticipation was growing! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
bjorn Posted February 16, 2004 Share Posted February 16, 2004 Funny story, I've only started to read a couple of days ago, but it surely looks nice Keep it up Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 17, 2004 Author Share Posted February 17, 2004 March 22nd 2012 Daily Rhetoric Book Reviews. Barry Mental and the Case of the Disappearing Hat, reviewed by Archimedes Thorpe-Park. After the work of pure genius that was Minty and Me in which we learned all about the disturbed psyche of Michael Dawson, and the spangly jangly Minty Tallulah, Barry Mental and the Case of the Disappearing Hat is somewhat of a letdown. The tale documents a washed up cop doing something really stupid with a talking dog. There are some pockets of literary quality, particularly in the foreword where Michael dedicates the book to "All my friends (Joe Cole)". The novel trundles along at the pace of an asthmatic snail and numerous plot devices come into play that have no basis in reality, for example in Chapter 7 Barry saves 'Chip' from a magical rotating chin which suddenly appears by the side of the road. It would surprise me if this became a hit, as it reeks to high heaven, although one shouldn't discount the book being a big seller as it is modestly priced at £2.99 which makes it appealing for toilet users who have been priced out of the toilet roll market since the Great Toilet Paper Market Crash of 2008/9 made loo paper more valuable than gold. Word is, however, that over in America this book is being hailed as 'The Great American Novel' for some reason. One word: Don't buy this. Actually, that was three words. Sometimes I wonder if I'm qualified to judge literature. Archimedes Thorpe-Park (formerly Archimedes Chessington-World-Of-Adventures) Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 17, 2004 Author Share Posted February 17, 2004 March 22nd 2012 Chez Dawson Oh woe! His novel had been critically panned! Horace had phoned to say he was striking Michael off his list of clients, but wanted to know if he could borrow a small jar of marmalade seeing as he was running a bit low. Michael lay slumped in his armchair. McHugh came in, presumably to offer a few words of consolation, but the Scotsman looked in particularly rough shape and collapsed on the floor bleeding heavily onto an expensive Persian Rug from a large gash in his side through which one could see his large intestine. Michael felt a pang of inspiration to lift him from his despair, and logged on to the New York Times literary review website to see if his failed novel really was being well recieved in America. There was always Hope. Hope rhymes with Pope. Pope rhymes with the latter part of the word 'Antelope' Michaels brain truly was on top form this morning. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 17, 2004 Author Share Posted February 17, 2004 March 22nd 2012 The New York Times Literary Review, Section 3, Subsection 7D, Barry Mental and the Case of the Disappearing Hat, reviewed by Mario G. Hamburger This is the Great American Novel, despite the fact it's written by someone from Britain. How is this, I hear you scream/shout/mumble? The answer is simple; Barry Mental and his dog 'Chip' epitomise the great era of travelling across America in a haze much in the vein of Jack Kerouac. This makes it the Great American Novel. The plot devices are just sublime. The encounter with the mysterious rotating chin on a deserted desert highway quite clearly symbolises... something, and Barrys furious tirade at a small lady in an antique shop stir the emotions to such a height, that one simply feels like crying. This book has been described in Britain as being rubbish, but they don't know what they are on about. This book will define your life, and soccer star cum author Michael Dawson is destined to become a cult hero, as is the immortal washed up cop Barry Mental, who is the epitome of the wandering American traveller. Mario G. Hamburger Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 17, 2004 Author Share Posted February 17, 2004 March 22nd 2012 Chez Dawson Well, that was a turn up for the books. Michael mused to himself, while mulling over a glass of iced tea about how the book could be such a success in America but flop in Britain. Horace rang to say that Michael was now his number one client, and that he was in huge demand. He felt good about this. Being big in America eclipsed being good in Britain, and he couldn't wait to promote his work. Maybe, just maybe he was going to make it big after all. His peace was interrupted by the Spurs manager who called to yell at Michael for not being at training. As quick as a flash he leapt up, jumped in his car and sped off. Minutes later he returned to put on his clothes, before leaving again. He didn't know why he kept making that mistake. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 19, 2004 Author Share Posted February 19, 2004 March 23rd 2012 Spurs v Birmingham City Michael turned up for this game in a trilby and poncho, to avoid being noticed by the press. He didn't want to answer any questions about his new novel. Spurs had to win this game to have any slightly realistic chance of staying up and for some reason they won. It all kicked off at the beginning, which is usually when a football match kicks off. The first goal, however came for Birmingham from the dainty feet of Labinot Harbuzi who hit a well placed shot from the edge of the area after 29 minutes. Nothing much happened in the half apart from a brief case of handbags between Birmingham Sweeper Miguel and Freddy Adu which was rewarded with a troupe of yellow cards. Spurs kicked off the second half with more purpose and after 66 minutes Ben May, starting only his 6th game all season tapped in from close range after the young Portuguese reserve Pedro Volpe had his initial shot saved. The second goal came after 71 minutes when substitute Nico Kranjcar hit a long shot which rebounded in off the goalkeeper and the post. Spurs sat tight for the rest of the game to give themselves an iota of help. Michael was nearing a degree of match fitness and was looking eager to get back on the field, and if possible fight for survival. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 19, 2004 Author Share Posted February 19, 2004 March 28th 2012 Flop Dawson Flops in the Bedroom! In a sensational interview with the Daily Record, Michael Dawson's recent flame Janet Ffolkes-Plompton reveals all! Read it all, right here in the Daily Rhetoric. You won't see this interview anywhere else, except maybe some of the other papers. Look also at our exclusive pictures. We copied them off the internet. There's a really nice picture of a cat, and a sausage. So Janet, how have things been since the split with Michael? Oh they've been pretty hectic. As you all know I spent some time at the ancestral home of my dear old friend Mr. Toad, and some other chums. There was an incident where squatters who went by the name of Mr Weasel, Mr. Stoat and Mr. Ferret attempted to take over the place. We managed to evict them, however using candles and assorted kitchen utensils. They have a court order prohibiting any departure from the Wild Wood. So, in short, yes, I've been quite busy. Have you spoken to Michael since? No, I'm afraid I haven't. I don't really want to talk about it. I'd like to plug my new fitness video though, its called Janet does Badgercise... So was he a flop in the bedroom? I never went to his bedroom. There was a funny smell coming from there. Well readers, you heard it here first, Michael Dawson is a flop in the bedroom! I didn't say that... Yes you did No I didn't. Yes you did No I didn't. B.Broomstick Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 23, 2004 Author Share Posted February 23, 2004 March 28th 2012 Gulbuddin Hekmatyar's Tea Shop (and Doily Emporium) Michael was reeling. Absolutely reeling. And it wasn't because Gulbuddin was using a rocket powered grenade launcher* to shell a newly opened tea shop that had opened just over the street. His love life was all over the papers. He hoped to dear God that Minty Tallulah wouldn't findo out. Despite the fact she was halfway round the world, and they'd been split up for yonks he still cared about what she might think of him. The truth of the matter was that he had been labelled a flop. That fool Janet Fflokes-Plompton... Michael would surely make her pay... Bang! The whole shop shook... the owner of the opposition tea shop had sent a depleted Uranium warhead** right into the corner of Gulbuddins tea shop. Michael's tea spilt out of the small china cup, and his egg and toastie soldiers were ruined by radioactive chemicals. Slightly irritated, Michael paid his old friend Gulbuddin and wandered down the high street considering what he was going to do now. * Purchased from Dick Cheney's Illegal arms sales collective, 1989 ** Purchased from Dick Cheney's Bombs for Favours workshop 1987 Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 23, 2004 Author Share Posted February 23, 2004 30th March 2012 Brad Hribnuts Book Emporium, Dallas USA Brad Hribnuts took one look at his dusty shelves, full of unsold books. He sneezed on account of all the dust, and fell down some stairs and broke both legs and fractured his skull. Business wasn't going well. As he lay at the bottom of a short flight of stairs, cerebral fluid leaking from his head he had a remarkable brainwave. Showing remarkable powers of recovery he quickly got better (Weak plot device) and went to his planning studio out the back. Six hours later, his masterplan was all worked out. Jubilant, he leapfrogged down to the Try N Save to buy cleaning a dusting equipment. He ran back to his shop so fast he knocked 4 old people in front of a bus, and indirectly caused a radio mast to collapse on a Hippie Commune in Papua New Guinea through chance and perchance. Once inside his shop, he cleaned as he had never cleaned before. He threw out all of his old knackered up books that wouldn't sell and replaced them on the shelves with some brand spanking new texts that would put him forever on the literary map. Then he made some phone calls, and to his surprise got a positive response. As a result of this he produced several flyers and leaflets from a machine he conveniently found in a corner of his shop (weak plot device) and sent them out for distribution. He gave his shop a fresh lick of paint, and phoned the police department asking permission to close all the roads on the 7th April, to which they agreed, without even asking questions (weak plot device). He was headed for the stratosphere. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 23, 2004 Author Share Posted February 23, 2004 30th March 2012 Chez Dawson Michael sat in his pink fluffy armchair and put the phone down. He'd just been booked in for his first publicity extravaganza. It was all a bit unbelievable really. He picked up the phone, dialled Horace and got him to sort out the travel arrangements. Just think, Michael Dawson, big in the USA (injured in Britain?) Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 24, 2004 Author Share Posted February 24, 2004 April 1st 2012 Newcastle v Spurs Michael travelled to a rare away game to watch Spurs try and continue fighting their way out of a big mess. Their recent form had improved somewhat, with 3 wins on the trot and a jump in position to 18th. The match against 4th placed Newcastle was undoubtedly going to be harder than a fat man with a bald head. Newcastle won a penalty after about 35 seconds when Gordon Lewis sent Bojidar Markov flying in the six yard box, and the Bulgarian slotted home cool as a cucumber. Spurs responded afterwards on 29 when a neat interchange of passes between Ruslan Mostovoi and Ian Cross let Nico Kranjcar chip a slightly unrealistic shot over the flailing keeper. Merkov responded for the Geordies with his 100th league goal 5 minutes before half time with a tap in after Ben Walton set him up about a yard from goal. The second half started with Luke Chadwick racing away down the centre and bending a shot around the keeper virtually from kick off to make it 2-2, and to everyones shock Spurs were awarded a slightly dubious last minute penalty which substitute Ben May scored after the keeper had tried to break his neck. The away fans went wild, as did Michael. Newcastle were now the one team that Spurs had done the double over. There was hope now. Still in 18th place, 17th seemed not so far away with the season drawing to a close. Could Spurs save themselves? Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 24, 2004 Author Share Posted February 24, 2004 April 1st 2012 Irkutsk Province, Russia Vladimir O'Vodka finished urinating in the snow, and stumbled back into his flat. He had a window of opportunity to take advantage of. He got in touch with an old colleague of his at the KGB, Dr. Ericski Joneski and organised a flight to Dallas. He had some business to do with the foolish scamp who had insulted the motherland. Swigging from a bottle of vodka, the bulbous nosed, fat, thin, tall, short Russian stumbled out into the driving snow once more and jumped into an old pickup truck, and began to weave his way down to Moscow Airport. On the way he stopped to pick up several hitchikers. One closely resembled a bear, although he couldn't focus very well. It broke his cassette player by eating it which was a bit harsh, so he dumped it by the side of the road and continued. At 7.30 the next morning he arrived in Moscow inside a shipment of parrots, wearing a leather thong. He could vaguely remember a night altercation at a truck stop, but his memory was slightly hazy. He still had his passport and tickets however, as they were hidden in his heavily matted beard. His flight left smoothly and he arrived in Dallas on the morning of the 3rd of April, completely sloshed, wearing a chiffon dress. Shrugging this off, he went to get ready for Michael. Meester Dawson was going to pay. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 25, 2004 Author Share Posted February 25, 2004 April 3rd 2012 Brad Hribnuts Book Emporium, Dallas USA The shop was gleaming, and bedecked wall to wall with posters of Michael Dawson holding a copy of Barry Mental and the Case of the Disappearing Hat. He could hardly believe it; the author of the 'Great American Novel' was going to be making a personal appearance! He'd been swamped with thousands of calls, and people coming in, all desperate for information. Sales were up already, and Brad had bought a new suit and invested in a new haircut for the occasion. Tired after putting up countless Michael Dawson posters, he needed to sit down, and so he did, in a conveniently placed armchair he suddenly noticed behind him (weak plot device). Soon, he entered into a deep slumber, dreaming of prosperity and a large multinational chain of bookstores. He was woken an hour or so later when a slightly haggard looking man, smelling of cats wee and with a large shaggy beard and wild hair, wearing a omewhat attractive chiffon dress came hurtling through the window. Brad stood up and addressed the man, who asked somewhat liltingly and with a strong Russian accent when exactly Michael Dawson was arriving, and what the process was for his arrival. Brad told the smelly leering tall, small, fat, thin Russian all he knew, and bidding him good day ushered him out of the shop. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted February 27, 2004 Author Share Posted February 27, 2004 April 4th 2012 New York Times Bestseller List 1. I Was a Teenage Mormon - Ezekial Jebediah 2. Barry Mental and the Case of the Disappearing Hat - Michael Dawson 3. Harry Potter and the Franchise Agreement - J.K. Rowling 4. Turgid Turnips - Hermann Micklewhite 5. Huntin', Shootin' and Fishin', The Tale of American Foreign Policy - Dick Cheney 6. Elvis, My Twin Brother: Second Reprint - Pervis Sedgley 7. The Big Colourful Picturebook of Walnuts - Len Lennon 8. 10,000 Things You Never Knew About Hair - Gilty Yuoip 9. Minty and Me - Michael Dawson 10. Road Map of Phoenix, Arizona - Percy Poppleton The American public are clearly going wild for Michael Dawson, with his new novel straight in at number 2, and his autobiography at number 9, presumably off the back of all the press attention. It is a fantastic book, it really is, and I haven't even read it yet! Catch him on the first date of his American tour on the 7th April where he will be riding in a Presidential style motorcade through Dallas to Brad Hribnuts bookstore. Tickets are still on sale. Elkie Moose Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted March 2, 2004 Author Share Posted March 2, 2004 April 5th 2012 Chez Dawson "Left... left..... no, right a bit.... ok, yep........down. NOT TOO FAST! Just a touch back to the left.... I paid good money for these!" Michael was in his front garden administering the delivery of seven Hyenas and a pair of Cheetahs, which were arriving in a gigantic big box. The man delivering the crate, Hubert P., as his nametag revealed was somewhat lax in his efforts and was swinging the box containing the animals wildly around in the air from his control point on a large unnecessary crane. Soon the box was placed on the lawn, and Michael could hear the screams and cries of the Hippies and Animal Rights protestors far off to the left as they hollered through a hole in the fence. Michael paused to make a decision, and when he came to that decision he realised that he had forgotten it, so in fact there was no decision to make. Indirectly he made the decision to forget about the previous decision, and embraced his new decision to decide upon a new idea, and make a decision based upon that judgement. His decision ultmately was to lead to seventeen hippies being eaten by his fabulous new pets, but michael didn't mind as the cost of pet food had recently gone up, owing to the Great Pet Food Inflation which had just brought down the government. Due to a new bizarre legal clause, it was ok to feed people to animals, just as long as they were hippies. The new Oxford Dictionary Definition of Hippies was "One that dresses in Tie-Dye t-shirts, has long hair and listens to ****." The seventeen eaten hippies all fulfilled this requirement, and the best thing was that they just kept on coming. Being a millionaire was great. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Doddy Posted March 4, 2004 Share Posted March 4, 2004 <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Richey: April 5th 2012 Michael paused to make a decision, and when he came to that decision he realised that he had forgotten it, so in fact there was no decision to make. Indirectly he made the decision to forget about the previous decision, and embraced his new decision to decide upon a new idea, and make a decision based upon that judgement.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Lol, the above lines are classic. I read it at least three times! I thought you had stopped updating the story Richey, but then I realised there was a page 7 and had to update my favourites link! Thank god! Brilliant as always, keep it up!!! Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted March 5, 2004 Author Share Posted March 5, 2004 <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Doddy: <BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Richey: _April 5th 2012_ Michael paused to make a decision, and when he came to that decision he realised that he had forgotten it, so in fact there was no decision to make. Indirectly he made the decision to forget about the previous decision, and embraced his new decision to decide upon a new idea, and make a decision based upon that judgement.<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Lol, the above lines are classic. I read it at least three times! I thought you had stopped updating the story Richey, but then I realised there was a page 7 and had to update my favourites link! Thank god! Brilliant as always, keep it up!!!<HR></BLOCKQUOTE> Still updating as always, but a little slower than usual as ive got a mountain of work to stare at and pretend to do! There's still a couple of seasons before it all ends. Glad you are still enjoying! Rich Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Richey Posted March 9, 2004 Author Share Posted March 9, 2004 April 6th 2012 Tottenham v Sunderland Michael attended his second game in a week for the first time since fish began crawling out of rivers and opted to try a spot of walking. Spurs were undergoing a mini-revival and were a point off 17th place, and besides all that, it was perfectly feasible that Michael would be back in action in two weeks (if the manager picked him). The game began tensely with both sides giving everything to do nothing but sit in the midfield kicking each other. The kicking competition found a victor in the 33rd minute when Spurs centre back Ian Cross got sent off for pushing Sunderlands recent signing Michael Owen onto his backside in the mud. Michael Owen then proceeded to score on the stroke of half time with a spinning turn and shot from inside the box. He then managed to get himself sent off in first half injury time with a second bookable offence after a mistimed tackle. Spurs reshaped and regrouped and came out with a bit more purpose in the second half, and even played with a degree of buoyancy not seen too much this season. Landon Donovan scored a deserved equalised on 60 minutes with a header from a Ruslan Mostovoi corner, and the midfield general Clark Keltie toe poked home a second on 62 after collecting a through ball from Adu after he had robbed the ball off lardy Argentine Vaccarezza. Sunderland got a penalty on 65 after a handball by Nico Kranjcar in the box. The young Italian Luca Ripamonti fluffed it high over the bar which was the cue for Spurs to tighten things up, and to also get two further sendings off. 'keeper Richard Evans was sent off after a foul on Mario Longo in the box on 76, which resulted in a penalty that Ripamonti again missed. Dmitriy Karenko rounded things off nicely for Spurs in the final minute, giving the card happy referee a chance to send him off after a blatant foul. The final score was 2-1 to Spurs with a 3-1 victory on Red Cards too. The good news however, was that Spurs now sat in 17th place, and White Hart Lane went into party mode. After applauding, Michael went home to pack for his publicity trip to Dallas. He had a flight at 0230 in the morning from Heathrow. The plus of that was that he was flying in a recently commissioned Gulfstream VII Jet so that he wouldn't have to sit with the poor people. Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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