shannon2007

Ted Locke

Washed up, never has been-would be manager. That was how the press would have described Ted Locke. If they had actually known who he was. As he watched from the touchline as his latest team were trailing 6-0 after just 12 minutes, an injury to the sides central midfielder was the last thing he needed, as his team had no subsitutes. There was only one thing for it, Ted would have to go on himself.

The referee though objected to Ted's wooden leg.

You could do someone a serious injury with that the referee, who had rather sadly shaved his head for that Collina effect, told a dejected Locke. I'm sorry but I cant let you on with it.

Thinking quickly, Ted unhooked his leg and hopped onto the field of play, to the astonished look of the 21 players left on the field.

Pass to me! he screamed at his left back, before falling over face first into the mud. I'm ok! I can do this!

But as he fell over for the 4th time, the referee decided to end the agony and red carded Locke for diving.

After the match, the side having lost by 22-0, their 112th successive defeat under Locke, the club committee chairman approached the manager.

There's no easy way to say this Ted. You're fired.

It was a shattering blow to the man who really believed he was destined to manage in the Premiership. That night he went onto the internet to tell his buddies that..... that.... he'd been given a coaching job in the USA. Yes, that sounded good, and the numpties were so in awe of him that they wouldn't fail to be impressed.

The truth was though that there was no job in America, and as Ted unscrewed his wooden leg, and placed it in the corner, put his glass eye in a jar and took out his false teeth, he could feel a tear falling from his real eye. His dreams were surely over, and he would eventually have to accept the reality that he was useless.

Yet stubborn as he was, Ted refused to give up hope, and he wrote to every club in England from the Conference to the juvenile leagues run by priests. Yet everyday a letter came back, and they all followed the same theme.

Dear Mr Locke

Thank you for your letter applying for a position at our club, but we regret to inform you that you have been unsuccessful.

Yada, yada yada.....

Yours

Some bimbo

Such rejection can really get a man down, especially when you realise that even a bimbo can get a job at a football club, whilst you with all your little certificates cant. ON the verge of giving up, Ted decided that if he got anymore rejection letters he would beat himself to death with his leg.

Luckily for him, of the three letter that arrived that day, he happened to open the one that said

Dear Mr Locke

Thank you for your letter applying for a position at our club. Fortunately, we are in the process of looking for a new manager, and we have decided to call you in for an interview. Please find enclosed a map of how to find us, and a complimentary train ticket to London.

Note that we have a short list of two, but as the other applicant is Berti Vogts, I think its safe to say you only have to turn up and the job is yours.

We look forward to meeting you,

Moira Stewart

Club Secretary
Metropolitan Police FC


Ted could hardly contain his excitement. He had finally gotten himself a job. Pretty soon though he would be wishing to god he hadnt.......

Raptor

Funniest Writer is still missing on your CV isn't it? Maybe not for long

shannon2007

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Raptor:
Funniest Writer is still missing on your CV isn't it? Maybe not for long <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

No I have actually won that for some reason. Shared with Sebs iirc.

shannon2007

And remember, we've seen Ted coaching

shannon2007

Berti Vogts

I vos not to be blamed for Schottland. They vos a werry bad team. They did not seem to understand any of my tactics, and none of the could speak German. Ven I vos sacked, I cried for a long time. But zen I remembered, ve von zee var!

Vogts slowly walked away from the German reporter, waiting for the man to tell him how great he was. He was quite taken aback when the reporter simply got in his car and drove away. It was disgraceful.

What was even more disgraceful, was that the awful Scotland team seemed to have ruined his chances of ever getting another job. Why couldn't these people see it was not his fault. The fact was, he had listened too much to Tommy Burns. And now, he had to go for an interview with a team in the Southern Division of the English Conference. It was so embarrasing, but he figured that he would take this job, that he was guaranteed to get. He would show those crazy Scots who was right!

It was a little but surprising to be interviewed for a football job by a man dressed as a policeman. Berti wondered if it was some sort of fetish, and had to admit to feeling slightly turned on. Perhaps after the interview..... but no, they should keep this relationship on a business level.

Take a seat The man in the Police uniform told him. Would you like a cup of coffee?

Ya. I vould be liking that very much please.

The policeman pressed a button, and a few minutes later, a balding, speccy, ginger bloke brought in a tray. But there was no coffee on the tray.

Vot iz de meaning of this! Berti exclaimed as the bald guy put the tray on the Policemans table and picked up the gun that had been on it, pointing it at Berti's head.

I'm afraid the Policeman was saying, That you have failed the interview. Meet Stuart. He's a Scot.

Those were the last words the German ever heard, as the last sound he heard was 'bang' and then he flopped onto the floor.

John Stevens looked at Stuart Redmond with a glowing pleasure. He was back, he had had his first victim done away with, and it was time for a wánk.

Well done Stuart. You might just be the man we need. He paused for a second to undo his fly. Now get out of here, I have some work to do.

retired_jgirl87

Bizarre and surreal, but mighty enjoyable. I look forward to more of this.

Raptor

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Peacemaker7:
And remember, we've _seen_ Ted coaching <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>


AND seen Collina ref :cool:

shannon2007

<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Raptor:
<BLOCKQUOTE class="ip-ubbcode-quote"><font size="-1">quote:</font><HR>Originally posted by Peacemaker7:
And remember, we've _seen_ Ted coaching <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>


AND seen Collina ref :cool: <HR></BLOCKQUOTE>

Yes, thats where I got that line from

shannon2007

The Interview

Ted was in a panick as he tried to get dressed. He dropped his g;ass eye, which rolled under the bed, and he had to use his wooden leg to roll the eye out. He cut himself shaving, spilled his cornflakes , burnt his toast and was halfway down the street to the bus stop when he realized he was naked. It was not a pretty sight.

Eventually though he managed to get himself on the train to London, and settled down for a pleasant train ride. Amazingly, the train didnt crash, and no-one was killed by the time his journey was over. He jumped in a taxi which took him to New Scotland Yard. Ted knew that his potential new boss had the reputation for being a total b-astard, but that hadnt put him off. He was really that desperate.

Sir John Stevens greeted Ted warmly, shaking his had firmly before remembering that he hadnt washed them. Never mind, he was sure Ted wouldnt notice, and if he did, well screw him. Which might well be on the agenda if things went right.

So Mr Locke. Tell me, why should you manage the Metropolitan Police side?

Ted sat down on the chair, trying hard not to notice the sticky black patch which smelled remarkably like blood. Ted knew what day old blood smelled like since.... but he didnt want to go there. Sir John seemed to notice his discomfort and muttered,

Yes, erm Berti failed. Just cant get blood out expensive material. But anyway......

Ted coughed and prepared his speech. Well, Sir John, I feel I have a wealth of experience, I have attended loads of coaching courses and managed quite a few teams. I know I can bring success to your club.

Exactly how many games have you won as a manager?

Well now. Ted sat thinking for a while, trying to count up all his victories. Erm, actually, none.

Sir John shook his head. Its not exactly an impressive record Ted. In fact, you're not exactly a very good coach, are you Ted?

Ted felt his face go bright red, and a tear started to form in his good eye. No Sir He said meekly.

Sir John Sat in silence for a moment as if making up his mind.

Well now, I've made up my mind. The truth is you were the only person to apply for the job. Except Berti of course, but I mean come on, we wanted a manager not a comic.

Sir John paused, as if expecting a laugh, and it took Ted a few seconds to respond.

Very well then Sir John went on, The job is yours. Here is a list of your players and coaching staff. You'll notice that all the coaches also play. We dont have a lot of money, and I have no intention of giving you anything to spend.

Ted accepted the list, looked it over quickly, and shrieked, Oh ffs, this is terrible. I didnt realise it was this bad. I mean.... David Beckham!

Sir John nodded, Yes its a poor squad, but then you're a poor manager so you cant complain. Oh, and one other thing. If you fail, I'll have you shot.

retired_hern1001

This is good stuff, keep it coming