A day in the life of a football manager

During breakfast (shredded wheat) the phone rings at the home of recently appointed Slipshod City manager Ron Glish.

“Hello Ron, it’s Hugh Jass here, I represent the oligarch who’s just bought Ridiculously rich United”

“Hello Hugh, you old slag, how’s that fat wife of yours?”

“She left me Ron”

“Oh I’m very sorry, I must think before asking an offensive question”

“Never mind, anyway I know you were only appointed to the slipshod job yesterday, but my boss was wondering if you’d like to take charge at United, he’ll pay you big money”

“I’ll do it”

“Great, I’ll fax over the contract and inform the media”

“Hooray, oh hang on I don’t own a fax machine”

“Ah now there we have an issue, as we can’t get the contract to you, and we’ve already announced that you’ll be taking over to the media”

“I don’t follow, Hugh”

“Well the owner doesn’t want a manager who doesn’t have a fax machine”

“It’s the 21st century, Hugh”

“It’s off Ron, we’ve announced your sacking, and already appointed your successor at Slipshod”

“Ah, fair fucks, bye Hugh”

For the rest of the day Ron attempts to find some batteries for his big torch.

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