METRIC

Time for some measured changes to soccer

The popularity here in the US of the Soccer World Cup Finals in Brazil last month taught us a lot about the 'beautiful game', as it's known in the United Kingdom of Britain and Wales.
We have seen the world's best soccerists score some amazing footkicker penalties; the goaltending has been superb, and the quality of throw-ons has been truly first class. We have all been impressed at the passion and skill on display; even tiny countries like Argentina have a core of dedicated supporters - futboladores - who will travel all the way to Brazil to cheer on their national team. The Germans even have a word for blood sausage eaten in celebration of World Cup victories.

However, there's one thing that even the most fanatical American soccer fan finds a little too weird to embrace: metric scoring. Since the metric system requires all numbers to be divisible by ten, most soccer games end in a tie. This tie-ball lockdown situation is what puts many US spectators off: we Americans expect a result - a winner and a loser, not a political coalition.

As long as foot-soccer remains metricated, it will always retain a whiff of ethno-Marxism to the regular guy stateside. If soccer were to break free from its liberal metric shackles (let us not forget that the the "FI" in FIFA stands for Fidel Castro), it would prove to ordinary Americans that it is more than capable of reflecting the values of freedom and choice we cherish so much on this side of the pond. 

MONACO 2026

Monaco looks certain to win the bidding for the World Cup in 2026, after all the other bidders dramatically dropped their plans to host the festival of soccer and sunshine. 
FIFA officials were impressed at Monaco's plans to build ten stadiums in a row in a gated compound on King Albert's private property due to be reclaimed from the sea in 2025. The beautiful democratic Mediterranean sovereign nation promises to spend at least £15bn on construction, with a further £3bn earmarked for security. Ticket prices will start at £10,000 for group stage matches, and a pioneering scheme has been proposed where knockout stage matches will be played in front of an exclusive audience composed of Bilderberg Group members and NATO officers, with 0.5% of all entry fees being donated to the Peaches Geldof Trust for unhappy professionals.
 Haiti, Burkina Faso and Somalia issued a joint statement announcing their decision to withdraw from the bidding, since the IMF refused each country a loan to pay for the competition courtesy fee, believed to be in the region of £250m. The news coincides with Monaco's acceptance as a permanent member of the UN security council.

QATAR 2022

Pards hoping to avoid the big guns

The final draw for the Democracy Cup in Qatar takes place this afternoon, and Alan Pardew's men will be crossing their fingers that it is a kind one. FA chairman Prince William flew in to the Qatari capital Doha yesterday with Pardew and UK sports ambassador Cara Delevingne.  Sir Elton John and David Furnish will also attend the event; they will be renewing their wedding vows for the tenth time before the draw as part of FIFA's Respect initiative. 

Earlier this morning a small but vocal group of anti-capitalist protestors staged a demonstration outside the Doha Hilton, but the Qatari police managed to shoot them all by breakfast. The protestors were understood to be unhappy at the awarding of the official World Cup catering contract to controversial US security company Blackwater. 

England NatWest/Help For Heroes are in pot 3, so could find themselves up against the likes of Germany BMW or Argentina Betfred. The English delegation will attend the event wearing "Find Maddie" armbands and striped poppies for servicemen in Helmand with cancer.

TODDINGTON CITY 2012/13 SEASON HIGHLIGHTS

LAST NIGHT'S FOOTBALL

Toddington City     0

Newport Pagnell   3 

The honeymoon is over for new Toddlers player-manager Vince Dudgeon, as he watched his ten-man side crash out of the Chicken Express Cup at Service Park to a resurgent Newport Pagnell, with Dudu Pukwana netting a goal either side of half time, making it four wins out of five for Dave Everlast's men. 

Dudgeon took charge last week following the very public dismissal of Lawrie Sanchez, and was given a baptism of fire when top scorer and only striker Cray Lorne, on loan from Stansted, lost his leg during Saturday's defeat at Donington. Lorne was rushed to hospital by minicab, and doctors expect him to die at any moment. There was an hour's silence during the match for Lorne, which both sets of fans respectfully observed. Dudgeon called up 13 year-old debutant Jadd Bertie to fill the void, but the teenager burst into tears when a McGarreghy pass saw him through on goal on the half-hour mark, and he was taken off and replaced by the veteran groundsman Dinos Dinas, who spent the remainder of the game in an offside position. 

Dudgeon surprised everyone by starting himself in goal for the first time in his colourful career, and by wearing a cagoule that at times appeared to restrict his movement and vision. There was further controversy when he substituted himself midway through the second half for an outfield player, leaving the home team's goal untended. The Toddlers were denied a stonewall penalty in the 39th minute when Panama international Malcolm McGarreghy's goalbound volley was blatantly caught with both hands by Ruben Corona. With the linesman posing for photographs, the referee waved play on. Their misery was further compounded two minutes later when Yehudi Magshaft went for an early bath after he was shown a straight red for an alleged foul throw. However, it was Pagnell who always looked the more dangerous on the break, and so it proved when their jet-black attack provided heavy penetration in the box, and saxophonist Pukwana prodded home his 65th goal of the season after some neat interplay with the others, whose names escape me. The home side were unable to turn matters around after the interval, and by the time late substitute Michael Owen sealed Toddington's fate in the fifteenth minute of injury time by rolling the ball into an empty net, the floodlights had been turned off and the ground vacated. 

Dudgeon will be looking to the January transfer market ahead of Toddington's Nisa League Two relegation scrap against fellow strugglers Risley Remand, while Newport Pagnell enjoy a week off to celebrate their solid performance on popular BBC 2 quiz show Eggheads. 

 Toddlers sign transgender keeper

Toddington City last night made history by signing the first ever professional transgender footballer in a dramatic eleventh-hour swoop on transfer deadline day. Goalkeeper Ron Nogger, a.k.a. Lulu Labelle, was signed from Bar A Go-Go for an undisclosed fee on a life contract, despite having no previous playing experience whatsoever. 

Charismatic City player-manager Vince Dudgeon spotted Labelle during a cabaret performance in London's West End, and was so impressed with her huge hands that he immediately approached her about the goalkeeping position at Service Park: "I could already see the potential in her massive, flapping hands, but when she managed to trap the ball between her big chin and enormous Adam's apple, I knew we were really on to something." 

However, eyebrows were raised by some at the club when it emerged that Dudgeon has allowed Labelle to convert the manager's office into her personal boudoir, leading to rumours of a rift in the dressing room. Several players were said to be unhappy about the presence of Labelle's many cats, and related hygiene issues. Questions have also been raised about the legality of stiletto heels on the football pitch, and whether feather plumes are allowed. 

Dudgeon is expected to present his new signing at a press conference this afternoon at Toddington service station before heading into London with her to catch a burlesque revue. 

       

Vince Dudgeon sacked

The football world was rocked this morning to learn of Vince Dudgeon's dismissal as Toddington City manager. The former Hatfield and Alton Towers player-manager was barely a month into his career at Service Park, which was marked by a series of colourful events and a disastrous string of heavy defeats. 

Reading a statement to the press, Toddlers chairman Ali Baqsheesh said that "Whilst we respect Mr Dudgeon's achievements as a professional coach and player, we feel that his vision for the future of Toddington City football club is at odds with the current project, as understood by the members of the board and the supporters of this magnificent club. We wish him luck in his further endeavours." He went on to cite Dudgeon's decision to register a pair of Siamese twins - the Dooley brothers - as one single player as being the final straw. Dudgeon had argued that it would "Give the midfield holding position an extra pair of legs." The brothers were stretchered off a mere three minutes into their debut, unused to any physical exertion.  Dudgeon also caused further controversy when he described Toddington fans as "Scum of the earth".  

Veteran Toddlers groundsman Dinos Dinas is expected to take over as caretaker manager for Saturday's trip to Cathedral City. Dudgeon, meanwhile, is said to be in talks with Tottenham Hotspur over a possible summer move when Diego Maradona's contract is up for renewal. 

Toddington City                0

Royal Wootten Bassett    3

Poppy Day one to forget on Dudgeon's return

Vince Dudgeon's surprise sudden return to Service Park as director of football proved a sour one as the Toddlers slumped to a weary 3-0 home defeat to Royal Wootten Bassett. On Dudgeon's advice, the Toddington players had had remembrance poppies tattooed on their necks in a bid to outdo and unsettle the men from Wootten Bassett, regarded as the home of dead soldiers. However, his plan backfired when an AIDS scare linked to infected tattooing needles hit morale in the locker room prior to kick-off. With several of the senior Toddington players clearly inebriated, the Bassetts soon found their stride: Johnny Mottram slotting in two in quick succession before the break, while a cruel deflection off a low-flying pigeon made it three midway through the second half. Although play was disrupted for ten minutes after a crowd member was spotted without a poppy, the referee nevertheless blew the match to an end three minutes before time, since both team captains had complained of stitches and preferred to call it quits. 

Asked about Dudgeon's influence in his new role as director of football, caretaker-janitor-manager Dinos Dinas was unable to give a coherent answer. However, it is understood Dudgeon is planning on having Children in Need's Pudsey tattooed on his players, with a view to nationwide TV publicity ahead of their visit to Stoke Pogis on Saturday. 

Dudgeon out in the cold

Vince Dudgeon's fledgling career as City director of football hangs in the balance with the news that he was literally left in the cold by angry staff. The Toddington players locked him out of the training ground Portakabin, leaving the veteran tactician solo to fume in the rain. The players are said to be unhappy at being diagnosed hiv+ after Dudgeon's poppy tattoo initiative went awry. Toddlers fans received a further blow this afternoon when it emerged that Dinos Dinas would be stepping down from his role as cleaner-manager. 13 year-old hopeful Jadd Bertie is expected to be announced as interim manager.

Fans pay tribute to Toddlers legend Dinos

Toddington City fans today laid wreathes, scarves and J-cloths outside the Service Park ground in tribute to Dinos Dinas, long-serving groundsman, cleaner and more recently, manager who passed away yesterday. Dinos was taken unwell moments after resigning as manager and resuming his cleaning duties. He is said to have died leaning on his beloved mop, which will now take pride of place in the City trophy cabinet. Sources at the club revealed that Dinas had requested he be buried by the Service Park dugout. However, a family member told us this request was intended ironically, and that he had hated his employers. Dinas was 88, and leaves behind nineteen grandchildren by his five children with his first wife Dana, in addition to his widow Lee-Ann who is expecting their first child together. 

Ghoul scorer: Dinos back from grave

Veteran City legend Dinos Dinas yesterday made a spectacular return to Service Park two days after being cremated. The swarthy Toddlers mainstay told astonished reporters at a hushed press conference by the vending machine he was hoping the "Fuss would soon blow over." He said he was looking forward to resuming his cleaning duties at the club, and was "1000 per cent match fit" should he be called upon as a player. However, several members of the squad are understood to be unhappy at the presence of what they deem to be a supernatural entity in the dressing room, and are threatening a walk-out ahead of tomorrow evening's Kinder Bueno Challenge Trophy first leg clash away to Belmarsh.

Jadd earns England call-up

13 year-old Toddington interim player-manager Jadd Bertie is set for a shock England call-up after catching Roy Hodgson's eye during a training session on Monday. The England boss stopped at Toddington M1 services for a toilet break when he caught a glimpse of Bertie leading the session at the nearby City training ground. Bertie scored a remarkable 200-yard screamer from the motorway hard shoulder that impressed the England supremo enough to include the Malvinas-born prodigy in his squad for next month's crucial World Cup qualifier in Germany. Bertie himself was unavailable for comment this morning but his mother described the news as "lies". 

Dudgeon in City takeover bid

The world of football was left reeling this morning when it emerged that Gus Dudgeon has launched a hostile takeover bid of his former club Toddington City. The controversial ex-manager and playmaker's company Dudgeoncorp has placed an offer, believed to be a four-figure sum. Dudgeon outlined his proposals for the club, which include a radical shake-up of the boardroom plus the replacement of the entire first team squad with robots manufactured in North Korea. He also hinted at the possibility of fast-track admission to the English Premier League, although he was unwilling to reveal specifics. 

Toddington City      0

Lymeswold              9

match abandoned at half-time; replay date to be confirmed

Gus Dudgeon's first match as City chairman and owner ended abruptly in chaotic scenes reminiscent of WW2 yesterday. Dudgeon's robot XI - "Dudgeonic men", according to the former Toddlers ace - failed to gel from the starting whistle, and were outshone by fellow strugglers Lymeswold. With all but three of the robots short-circuiting in the rain within seconds of kick-off, the visitors were afforded ample opportunities, which they seized upon; Junior Mbele bagging five, with a brace apiece for Wade Plover and former gunner Paul Merson. The referee was forced to abandon the match at half-time when City fans staged a mass pitch invasion, destroying the robots and demanding the arrest of Dudgeon. Matters took a more sinister turn when police were called after Dudgeon received a fatwa on Twitter from Toddington's notorious Al-Misbaq supporters faction. Dudgeon responded by threatening to ban City fans from matches altogether: "Until these c***s learn to behave like normal human beings, I see no option but to suspend our policy of public admission to games. With what we're saving on staff wages, we don't need their f****** poxy money anyway."

Transfer deadline day update

Gus Dudgeon has played down Toddington's prospects of a loan deal for wantaway Sunderland hard man Lee Cattermole. Cattermole is understood to be unhappy with training conditions and facilities at the M1 club. The Toddlers boss responded by saying that Cattermole was "Not as hard as he likes to think he is, in fact he's just a fussy little poof." Dudgeon instead expressed interest in contracting a group of Ukrainian cheerleaders who, he said, were available for "peanuts". 

Nisa League 2  Final Table 2013

                                                pts        GD

1. Whipsnade                          92          +67

2. Castle Donington                83          +55

3. Harpenden Town                79          +50

4. Harpenden                          79          +50

5. Harpenden Spartans          79          +50

6. Sizewell B                           73          +47

7. Newport Pagnell                 70          +42

8. London                                68          +29

9. Bradford Masjid                   62         +13

10. Cathedral City                   62         +20

11. Manchester Arndale         61          +22    

12. Brands Hatch                   54          +7

13. Stonehenge                       50         +11

14. Royal Wootten Bassett     47         +7

15. Stoke Pogis                       44         -1

16. Alton Towers                      41        +1

17. Eton Rifles                         40         -5

18. Walford                              35         -11

19. Cheltenham GCHQ            35         -12

20. Mascots                            30         -27

21. Lymeswold                       30         -35

22. Risley Remand                28          - 34

23. Quality Street                   19          -48

24. Toddington City               0             -198         

Toddington City are relegated to the Scottish Premier League

SIKH AS A PARROT

Viewers of Match Of The Day will perhaps be familiar with the sight of the Sikh gentlemen who sit behind the dugouts at Old Trafford. This is the story of how these gentlemen unknowingly played a pivotal role in one of the most extraordinary events in modern football.

Mandeep has always been nuts about Manchester United. As a kid he wore red Man U pajamas and slept on Man U bedclothes, and woke up to posters of his Man U idols on the wall. As the only boy among five siblings in a family grown wealthy on success as refrigerated goods suppliers, his love of football was indulged by his father and uncles. They had season tickets for some of the most exciting seats at the ground: right behind the home dugout, where you can hear all the shouts from the bench, and get to see Fergie in all his crimson-nosed apoplectic glory, threatening the match officials. Occasionally, after emphatic home wins, they'd even get a nod of acknowledgment from the man himself. It was as good as it gets.

The years pass and Mandeep grows from a boy to a man but his passion for the club remains undimmed, and he never misses home fixtures. He's feeling a little low due to the shock of early morning rising for work, plus he's being nagged at home to find himself a wife and think about moving out. A Tuesday evening League Cup tie against Chelsea is just the tonic he needs.
 One of the great things about games against big teams such as Chelsea is that he can recognise most of the subs and staff on the bench from his position behind the dugouts. There's Ancelotti with Roberto Di Matteo sat next to him, and next to him is the Chelsea physio, a woman. He'd heard that this was the case. There's a female linesman (lineswoman?) too - women are making great strides in football all of a sudden. What he didn't know was that the Chelsea physio was a fox. There she is in her tracksuit, with her little plastic gloves on, looking serious and absorbed in the game. She looks like a movie star; a raven-haired Mediterranean beauty! He looks in the match programme and finds her name: Eva Carneiro, first team doctor. Eva!  Mandeep is smitten. The only time he takes his eyes off the away bench is when they follow Eva onto the pitch to treat John Terry for a groin strain in the second half. He thinks he hears a wolf-whistle from the crowd somewhere but no one around him comments on this demure Hollywood beauty and her sensational appearance on the Old Trafford turf. Perhaps other men don't appreciate her the way Mandeep does. By the final whistle he's worked out the outlines of an excuse to go and talk to her.
He tells his uncles to leave without him, saying something about waiting for autographs. He approaches the tunnel and tells the policeman he's arranged an interview with the Chelsea physio, Ms Carneiro, for an article in the Asian Sports Science Bulletin. The policeman fetches a steward who comes and leads him inside and tells him to wait in the corridor by the dressing rooms. One or two journalists are talking on their phones, and there are raised voices in Spanish or Italian at the other end of the corridor, where a film crew seem to be arguing with one another. He talks to a chatty young woman while he waits, and then as if by magic Eva appears at his shoulder. "Mr Singh?" She asks, her dark eyes smiling. Mandeep sheds an instant half stone in sweat but doesn't manage to respond verbally. Somehow he shakes to indicate his assent. "I'm afraid I wasn't told about this interview, and I have to go right now. I'm so so sorry, poor love. Looks like someone's screwed up, we'll have to arrange another one. Or a phone interview? " Mandeep is too stunned to think quickly and doesn't say anything other than "oh", at which Eva gives his arm a friendly squeeze and winks at him before turning to leave. The memory of that wink, replayed endlessly in slow motion, keeps Mandeep awake for the next two nights, his penis never less than semi-erect. The only thing that matters to him now is finding a legitimate excuse to see Eva again.

Sian Massey is England's first ever top-flight female linesperson. It's been a tough rise to the top for her, since she's not really a tough sort of girl. If anything she's shy, but her sheer dedication to football has led her this far. This time last year she was still refereeing women's football to empty grounds, and now here she is officiating at Man Utd v Chelsea, with the eyes of the world upon her. As usual, Sian's attention to the game has been perfect. Each one of her offside and corner decisions has passed without protest from either set of players. Fergie hasn't even risen from his seat once. She gets a chance to rest her eyes for a few minutes in the second half while Chelsea skipper John Terry receives treatment on his groin from the female Chelsea physio. Things are looking up for women in football. Sian takes a moment to look at the crowd behind her while play is held up. She sees the Sikhs in their turbans sitting behind the home team dugout. She's noticed them on TV before, but she hadn't noticed the young, good-looking one. What a dish. If only she could meet someone nice like that. Sian has rotten luck when it comes to men. Perhaps men don't want a girlfriend who knows more about football than they do.

After the match Sian showers and changes. When she's finished she walks down the corridor past the players' dressing rooms with her bag and her hair still damp, when she sees the handsome Sikh from behind the dugouts. She catches his eye, and they smile a greeting at each other. She asks him whether he's a journalist. She doesn't normally strike up conversations with strange men this easily, but he seems so sweet and approachable. Just as he's telling her about the interview he has planned, the female Chelsea physio interrupts. Apparently he's there to interview her but there's a problem and the physio has to cancel. The handsome man is very nervous around the physio; it's immediately clear to Sian that he's in awe of her, the way he stares. Sian's heart sinks, a feeling she knows only too well. Feeling like a gooseberry, Sian slinks away quietly, leaving the others to it. Before she reaches the match officials' office, the female physio scoots past her, obviously in a hurry. Sian sees her catch up with a blond man in a smart suit holding a fur coat. They exchange words in what to Sian sounds like Russian, and the man helps the physio into the coat, giving her a pinch on the bum as he does so. Is he her boyfriend? That would be highly irregular - the away team staff don't normally have visitors milling about. Sian smells a rat. 

A couple of months later Sian officiates a match at Chelsea's ground, Stamford Bridge. She hasn't forgotten about the Chelsea physio - whose name she now knows to be Eva - and takes the opportunity to snoop a little while she's at the Bridge. She's been doing her homework on Eva Carneiro: she's heard rumours about how Frank Lampard and John Terry wait on her every beck and call. Supposedly, Eva has them wrapped around her little finger, and with the sway JT and Lamps have in the Chelsea dressing room, that puts her in a powerful position at the club. She's also heard how Eva was spotted on Roman Abramovich's famously opulent private yacht at Cannes prior to her appointment as first team doctor. So much for women making great strides in football - Sian can imagine just how Eva impressed her employers, with her dusky good looks and all. She was probably sleeping with the owner and his senior players, the hussy.
Sian isn't really cut out to be a detective. She's always been scared of breaking the law, and even the idea of being seen behaving suspiciously fills her with dread. She manages to make herself look busy fiddling with her phone as she plans her next move, when who should show up but the blond Russian gentleman carrying the fur coat. He has an earpiece and shades; he looks very stern. Sian follows him and sees him open a door without knocking and enter a room. It could be a broom cupboard for all she knows. Without giving herself time to chicken out, Sian bends down to peep through the keyhole, her heart racing. What she sees in three or four seconds is enough to make her drop her phone in astonishment noisily, causing her to flee in fear of being caught. What she sees is the blond man and Eva counting money: a fat stack of bright green notes that Sian thinks might be 100 Euro notes. Jesus! 

Over the remaining course of the season Sian's investigations lead her to suspect that Eva is involved in a betting scam traceable all the way up to Abramovich himself. JT and Lamps are implicated, as is unpopular Chelsea left back Ashley Cole, in addition to Margaret Thatcher's wayward son, Sir Mark, who made his fortune out of arms deals to shady characters. This is serious James Bond shit; Sian is very afraid of what she has uncovered; she feels like a tiny woodchip standing before a blazing inferno, and has started taking sleeping pills to help her rest at night. Although she is afraid, Sian is no coward. She's taken to reading the Bible for inspiration before matchdays. It gives her a feeling of righteousness in the face of injustice. When she walks out on the pitch she feels like Joan of Arc; she is on a mission to protect the beautiful game of football from the greedy claws of Mammon.
When the season is over, she spends the Summer perusing online football betting sites. She has learnt to decipher cyrillic in order to monitor the Russian sites in particular. She thinks she has detected a pattern when it comes to Chelsea match betting, and her suspicions are aroused when she spies irregularities in the prices for a Chelsea own goal in the Charity Shield season opener (when the league winners play the cup winners) against Man Utd at Wembley. The odds being offered are far too generous. Sian knows what she has to do - she has to stop this rot as only a lineswoman can.

The evening before the Charity Shield, Sian meets one of the linesmen due to referee the match at his hotel near Wembley stadium. She's stayed there herself before, and has a mundane excuse for being there and bumping into him. She's prepared plenty of juicy gossip so that her offer of a quick drink or a coffee won't be turned down. She doses the linesman's drink (a chamomile tea, as it turns out) with a hefty amount of her own sleeping pills, and wishes him good luck for tomorrow's game. She then speaks to someone on the FA match officials selection committee, voicing her concern at how peaky the linesman had looked when she bumped into him this very evening, and how she hopes he'll be okay in the morning. As it's not a premiership fixture, the linesmen on the standby list are drawn from lower leagues and have no top-level experience. It could be a potential embarrassment to the FA to have a match involving such prestigious teams officiated by an inexperienced linesman. She doesn't want to cause alarm, but she'd be more than happy to step in if the linesman does wake up feeling poorly.

Her ploy works a treat, and when the linesman fails to rouse the following morning, Sian gets the nod.

So this is it: the big day. The day when football says no. The day when money learns that it can't buy passion. When she shakes the players' hands on the pitch she lingers a little longer with JT and Lamps. She almost feels like their executioner, the poor dumb fools. Millionaires making themselves look bad by scoring own goals, and for what? For the odd quick hand job during groin strain treatment from some whorish 'doctor'? How shallow men can be, how immediate their awards need to be. But not Sian - she's on higher ground now, justice is her reward. She looks to the Chelsea bench and sees Eva, deadly serious, sitting hunched up next to Di Matteo, nervously biting the tip of her plastic glove. It's showtime!

The first half passes without too much incident and the score remains goalless. Sian stymies a potential own goal move of JT's when he deliberately drops back to keep a Danny Welbeck pass onside, no doubt in the hope of intercepting it and directing it into his own net. Sian flags it offside the second the ball is struck, defiantly sticking her flag out with her lips pressed tight, pride moistening her eyes. Fergie races from his seat to the edge of his technical area and tells her to fuck off. There's a groan from the United fans and a cheer from the Chelsea fans when the offside incident is replayed on the stadium screens. At half time Sian tells the fourth official she's not happy with the abuse she received from Fergie, and would rather be on the opposite side of the pitch in the second half. She makes herself look picked on and rattled, and he agrees to her request. That way she gets to referee the Chelsea half of the pitch again.
 When the teams come back onto the pitch for the second half, she notices how JT, Lamps and Ashley Cole are bunched together, whispering in each other's ears. They look worried. Within five minutes of the restart, each of the trio has forced Petr Cech into acrobatic saves from overstruck back passes, and JT has mysteriously slipped in the box at least three times. Sian has to think fast; the way this game is going she won't be able to stop them scoring an own goal. The action passes frantically - Sian's flag goes up whenever she can get a free kick for Chelsea and send the ball up the United end of the park. Fergie is bright purple. He is so incandescent with rage that he's been banished to the stand after throwing his glasses at the fourth official. Ashley Cole's zeal for an own goal is proving too bizarre, and he is substituted on the hour mark with the score still goalless. The same fate befalls Lamps ten minutes later, after Ancelotti loses patience with him for repeatedly failing to move the ball forward. That leaves JT as the only chance for a deliberate own goal. Sian acts swiftly, and the next time JT is challenged on the ball by Nani, Sian signals a deliberate elbow in the throat by JT. As soon as JT starts protesting his innocence, Nani takes his cue and suddenly clutches his neck before dropping to the ground and writhing in agony. The ref listens to Sian and sees no choice but to send JT off. JT goes bananas and sprints over to Sian, and tells her, among a great deal of other things, that he wouldn't piss on her snatch, not that she'd really want him to. It takes three of his teammates to prise the captain's armband off him before he's finally carried off the pitch. The fracas has added a full five minutes on top of injury time at the end of the match. Now the only thing that can go wrong is a fluke own goal by a Chelsea player. United mount wave after wave of pressure, as we pass the 90 minute mark. Sian wishes a United player would score, so that they could sit back and let Chelsea attack. It all happens right at the end of stoppage time. It's the last corner of the match, even the United keeper, Kuszczak, comes up for it. There's pinball in the box, the ball parries off players from both teams, it's hard to see who's doing what. Sian sees the ball bounce quite clearly a yard over the goal line before Petr Cech smothers it. The ref can't have seen through the melee of bodies, only Sian can make the decision for him. She can't risk it being an own goal, as the ball could have come off any player's boot. With all 22 players crowding the referee, she has only one decision to make - no goal! With the bet applying to regular play only, Sian knows she is safe, she's won the day.
The ref blows for full time, and before Sian can even breath out, she feels her hair suddenly tugged back so violently she's sent tumbling. Before she knows it she's seeing the blue sky above Wembley while something sharp slashes her face. It's Eva Carneiro! She's screaming blue murder, with her hair falling loose over her tracksuit and a wild animal in her eyes. She claws at Sian's flesh and eyes while Sian tries to poke at her with the stick of her flag. Sian's vision is already blurry from blood by the time Eva is pulled off her. Eva musters one last surge of resistance and lunges towards Sian, flobbing right in her bloodied face for everyone to see. Sian feels exalted, as only the righteous do.

Mandeep sees it happen. He's watching from the stands. His uncles have taken him to Wembley as a treat, to cheer him up and put some life back into him. They've grown concerned at the way his interest in United has waned of late. He shows no interest in women, much to his mother's anguish. In fact, the only clue they have that he isn't gay is the framed photo he keeps of a pretty dark-haired lady in a Chelsea tracksuit on the wall by his bed. Mandeep knows himself that his obsession with Eva is pointless, and no good for him. He realises that she's beyond his reach, and that he'll always be too tongue-tied to chat her up. He did get a telephone interview with her in the end, but he made such a balls-up of it that he cut it short by hanging up in shame, and didn't dare call back. However, if his uncles insist on sitting him down in front of a Chelsea match, he knows he's helpless to resist watching Eva, even if it is bad for his health.
Eva doesn't look happy today, she never cracks a smile and looks very agitated. She probably has boyfriend trouble, or perhaps one of her parents has died. The game itself is only the Charity Shield, so it's unlikely to be due to any importance attached to it. When Eva attacks the female linesman, Mandeep stands up and watches goggle-eyed. When he sees her spit in the linesperson's face, he sits back down and buries his face in his hands and slowly begins to weep. His uncles are distraught at the fragile mental condition of their nephew Mandeep and take him away before the penalty shoot-out begins.
Mandeep is in shock, he can't understand it. He can't understand how Eva could do such a horrible thing, and lose her dignity in such a scandalous manner before the World's television cameras and a packed national football stadium. She was feral - not the lovely, considerate girl he'd met at Old Trafford last year. Were women really such slaves to their emotions that a sweet girl could go hysterical at the flick of a switch? Why did he have to be drawn to her in the first place - merely because she has a pretty face and a nice figure? He feels disgusted with himself. He doesn't need irritating relatives or shrinks to tell him that the best thing he can do is forget all about Eva, and pick up the pieces of the life he's been neglecting. After all, he's a lucky man. He's got a season ticket at Man U, for god's sake, right behind Fergie. 

MEGGO

Gary Megson had worries. West Brom were on a downward spiral and he knew he'd be out of a job by the end of the season. The board had made it clear to him that survival in the Premiership was essential to his future employment. The players didn't listen to him and, worst of all, the fans didn't like him and sang no songs for him, only boos at the final whistle when they failed to win home matches. It seemed to Meggo that the world was ganging up on him. Was it really too much to ask for a little sympathy at home? Surely Mrs Megson must understand that he had a stressful job. She must've read in the papers about the pressure he was under. It's true that he had never exactly set her bed on fire -  in fact, he had always been aware of her overall disappointment in him. Even when their marriage was young she'd lose no chance to remind him of his gingerness by complimenting others on their dark good looks. And when a few pounds inevitably started to thicken his middle she barely bothered to disguise her disgust, which was rich coming from her; she was a large lady to begin with but he'd never said a word. Maybe if she wasn't so blunt about it he would be able to relax a little and things might improve. But it was hard to get in the mood when she kept drawing attention to it the way she did. He'd read advice columns about men with similar problems, but all their suggestions involving baths and sensual massages were out of the question with someone like Mrs Megson. They didn't know what she was like. Even after a rare win on the football pitch, when things might get off to a good start in the bedroom, her discouraging words would make it too much of an effort to finish: "Are you nearly done? How much longer, do you think?" No matter how hard he tried to think of more appealing women, eventually the jeers from behind the dugout would fill his head and then everything went soft. 

So things were bad enough as they were before he had to come along and exacerbate everything. Pulis. He knew from the start that she had the hots for Pulis. He noticed the way she perked up when he introduced the pair for drinks after the Stoke match, the way her scowl lifted and she lost ten years off her face. He hated the cheeky way she straightened Pulis's baseball cap, and the way she was impressed by his smart post-match interview suit. It was nice to see a professional man make the effort to look dapper, she said. When he pointed out how he himself always made the effort to look smart she eyed his trouser region and muttered "Oh you make an effort alright." When Mrs Megson suddenly started seeing a lot more of her wine-tasting friends, Meggo wasn't fooled. He knew full well how Pulis made regular kerbcrawling trips down from Stoke, where the prostitutes would no longer serve him, and how he rented a small flat in Birmingham for his nefarious deeds. He knew how Mrs Megson would clutch the bedsheets in writhing anticipation as Pulis stood before her naked but for his baseball cap, sucking his belly in and sticking out his eager stiff little willy. Nothing flaccid about our Tony, no sir. He knew how the lovebirds would follow their shared climax with a champagne toast to Muggins Megson, doubled over with laughter. The lads knew, the coaching staff knew, and the bloody fans knew too now because Pulis had mentioned it himself in his matchday programme notes when West Brom travelled there last week. What a humiliation that game was. Even the ref gave him a 'droopy' hand gesture when he tried remonstrating over a decision that should have been a clear penalty. The players laughed, the fourth official laughed, the Stoke physios and substitutes were falling about the bench, with Pulis slapping their backs. The last straw for Gary Megson came when both the home and away sections of the Britannia Stadium simultaneously unfurled huge banners depicting Meggo's slack ginger-pubed penis, accompanied by a chant that was both distasteful and unnecessary. He jogged past Pulis down the tunnel, refusing his theatrically offered handshake. He locked himself in a toilet and sat there with his head in his hands, weighing his options. No way was he cooking dinner for that fat bitch tonight, even if it was his turn.