Bolton Wanderers FC

Whoah –we’re thin on the ground tonight folks. Must be a combination of the credit crunch, the traditional January ‘skint as a bastard’ period and people on detox drinking green tea rather than Bank Top Flat Cap. As a result, any karaoke request will be granted tonight. So next up is a perma-tanned crooner named El Tel. It appears El Tel has appeared on TV back in the 70's so let’s relive that moment now with some soul-stirring vocals. This fella is destined for big things, so please don’t throw any chips, darts or broken bottles at him…

 

 

To celebrate Hartlepool landing Premiership opposition in the form of West Ham in the next round of the FA Cup, here's one just for Jeff Stelling and the like. A fine video of the Hartlepool version of the Riverdance...

 

 

10. Watch the satellite channel 'UK Knitting Gold' all day long.

 

9. Shave your testicles and make a nice Ivan Campo wig from the offcuts

 

8. Discover your inner-vegan. Throw all your meat and dairy products in the bin and experience a really exciting month of eating nothing but mung bean salads and cauilflower and walnut soup.

 

7. Start watching cricket. It is the worst sport known to man but you will be asleep in no time.

 

6. Become a music industry impressario and start your own boy-band. Simply advertise for 5 supple & good-looking young boy (whilst attempting to convince your mates you haven't suddenly turned homosexual) and make sure you include the token handsome bastard and the token chubster who can't dance but can knock out a hell of a pop tune. Then watch the millions roll in.

 

5. Retire from your everyday job and spend your days writing sarcastic comments on someone's Catflap blog, even though your total football knowledge could be written on the back of a gnat's chuff.

 

4. Audition for the next series of Big Brother. Concerned that you're just a little too normal to get in there? Then simply pretend you're either:

    a) A pneumatic blonde trollope who happens to think that the Andes are at the end of the Wristys

    b) A militant black guy who likes gangster rap

    c) A rampaging O.T.T. homosexual

    d) A BNP member with ridiculously extreme views on the current state of the UK, all obviously brought about by illegal immigrants.

 

3. Ape David Blane and spend the entire month suspended above your home town's leisure centre in a glass box.

 

2. Become a celebrity stalker. Potential 'victims' I'd personally suggest include Richard Arnold, Victoria Beckham, Jeremy Kyle and Heather Mills.

 

1. Run for the American presidency. It won't be long before some redneck fruitcake takes a pot-shot at Barack and that will be the perfect opportunity for an everyman English bloke to slip into the hotseat without the Yanks realising the new president is wearing an England away shirt with 'Rooney' stamped on the back.

The abject display on Sunday got me to thinking about who I'd like to see sign on the dotted line in January. The current squad is woefuly in need of reinforcements in the following areas:

 

Centre-Half

Central Midfield (a real battler - Lee Cattermole's battling display yesterday epitomised perfectly what we need)

Central Midfield (an inventive playmaker - the days of the likes of Okocha & Djorkaeff appear to be long gone)

Right winger (our only real right winger at the moment is Gretar Steinsson. Unfortunately, his primary position is right-back)

A predatory goal-getter. The type who will hang about up top and pinch goals when you need them.

 

So, with all of the above in mind (and probably complete pie-in-the-sky), my wish list is:

 

Tal Ben-Haim, Nigel Reo-Coker, Jimmy Bullard, Jermaine Pennant, Daniel Sturridge or Ched Evans.

 

No hope of getting any of them but you can only dream...

(BBC Announcer: 3.00 – Christmas Afternoon)

Dear Ladies, Gentlemen & Children of Great Britain. It is with great regret that I announce that the Queen cannot make her annual Christmas speech this year. Prince Phillip has got a bad dose of the squits (due, we believe, to a dodgy kebab last night) and her Highness is currently busy dabbing Phillip’s sphincter with the royal wet-wipes. However, we have someone of (almost) equal standing to step into this most prestigious of slots. So, fellows of this fine isle, I give you...Stig Tofting:

 

 

Hallo! It isch Stig here, reflecting on the eventful years that wasch 2008. Not a particularly cheery year for me but a fine year for tinned fruit and the Danish pastry industries. I have schpent more time over here in my role asch star-columnist for Mick Greens marvellousch Catflap blog and have noticed that a lot of you have had a real schitter of a year. So I am trying to schpread schome positivity and glee amongst you all at this most friendly time of year. Do you think that I wasch full of the joys when the filth carted me away from that Copenhagan café for protesting (rather physically, I muscht admit) at their use of Daddies sauce rather than HP? Of coursche not. But the power of positive thinking got me through those dark days. And that, my learned and dear chums, is what you muscht do – think positive. Smile, though your heart isch aching. Search for the hero inside yourselves. Be schiny, happy people holding hands. And that’s all I have to schay really – it is as schimple as that. Schmile a little too – that really works. And to help you schmile, I’ll leave you with a wonderful webschite full of ugly footballers – if that doesn’t make you laugh, you really are up schits creek! Best wishes for next year and many years beyond that. Father Stigmas. x

 

http://www.uglyfootballers.com

Comments [2]

 

Hello! Big cook Mario here and, with my little Scouse chum Sammy, I’d like to welcome you to our festive special. Now, like all you out there, we’ve been watching all the culinary Christmas specials on the box (Oliver’s traditional fare, Ramsey’s sterling cook-along efforts, Nigella’s fine rack (of Christmas ribs, of course…)) but, as always with these programmes, they’re still a little too arty-farty. So we’d like to present you with a back-to-basics guide to getting the perfect, fuss-free, Christmas Day dinner. No hassle, no chat, just bucketfuls of fat. So, let’s get moving with the step-by-step Christmas dinner checklist:

 

1)     Soak turkey overnight in a delicious cider and Doctor Pepper marinade

2)     Soak potatoes (for mash purposes) overnight in a delicious KFC chicken gravy marinade (add a bit of butter too).

3)     Phone for a Nightbar Spesh kebab and a 12” American Hot whilst soaking ingredients on Christmas Eve.

4)     Soak veg overnight in a delicious vanilla Haagen Das and melted Wispa marinade.

5)     Fill bath full of sumptuous goose fat and soak potatoes (for roasting purposes) overnight.

6)     Eat kebab and pizza and have a few magnums of Magners, to aid the chilling out process.

7)     Christmas morning – bang everything in the oven. But, prior to this stage, coat everything in a delicious ghee and lard marinade, for that extra tantalising flavour burst.

8)     Whilst the main dinner is slowly cooking, prepare the starter platter of pork pie segments, turkey & cranberry quiche, black pudding & brie parcels, ghee samosas, chip bhajis and battered sausages.

9)     Whilst still waiting for the main dinner to cook, prepare the desert platter of Chocolate trifle, consisting of a Dime bar, Mars bar, Bounty bar, Twix bar (x2), Snickers bar, Twirl bar, Fruit & Nut bar, Crunchie bar, Flake bar, Fudge bar, Boost bar and Aero (mint) bar (basically the contents of the Cadburys Mario Lardel signature edition selection box).

10)  Pile everything on the plates and ENJOY! Eat before 16:00 on Christmas Day though, so that it all has enough time to settle and digest prior to the New Year’s Day fixture…

 

 

Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you Mr Green. Over the past few weeks I have been insanely jealous of Ali Al-Habsi. I mean, there we are, sat on the bench every week, scratching our balls and waiting for something to do. And then, all of a sudden, Ali is spending all his time with his crayons out scribbling away for 90 minutes each week, whilst I’m sat there bored shitless. So, and thanks be to the Gods, Mr Green has given me the nod to commence a weekly column highlighting my TV picks for the coming week (he must have seen me sat on the bench marking out my selections in TV Quick with a fluorescent pen). I love a bit of tele and can’t wait to share my thoughts with you, starting with this special festive column. Take care. TC (Tamir, not Top Cat).

 

Mon 20^th: BBC1 @ 21.00: QI Christmas Special

Top notch sophisticated humour. Not like the shite on offer here.

 

Mon 20^th: BBC4 @ 22.30: Crooked House

Top notch Christmas ghost story. 1^st of 3 parts, shown on consecutive evenings.

 

Tue 23^rd: BBC2 @ 22.15: Lead Balloon

Top notch American-influenced comedy. Not like the shite on offer here.

 

Thu 25^th: BBC1 @ 21.30: The Royle Family

Will it be the same without Nanna? Tune in to find out.

 

Thu 25^th: BBC1 @ 22.30: Blackadder Rides Again

Documentary on the classic comedy which, surprisingly, features contributions from the usually documentary-shy Rowan Atkinson.

 

Thu 25^th: E4 @ 22.30: Fonejacker Christmas Special

Quite purile humour but still very, very funny. Not like the shite on offer here.

 

Fri 26^th: ITV1 @ 19.00: Harry Hill’s TV Burp Review of the Year

Funniest show on the box, without question.

 

Sat 27^th: BBC1 @ 21.30: Outnumbered

Brilliant comedy. Will strike a chord with any parents out there. Ramona Marquez (Karen) is simply adorable.

 

Tue 30^th: BBC2 @ 22.00: All New Shooting Stars

Really wanna see those fingers? Club singing? Eranu? Uvavu? Marvellous stuff.

 

Wed 31^st: BBC2 @ 22.55: Jool’s Annual Hootenanny

Best music show on the box. Lots of top notch stuff which I’m sure Northy will love.

 

Comments [0]

Martin Riggs (Gretar Steinsson) is a cop on the edge. Mourning the death of his beloved wife, he is standing at the very edge of the precipice. His monumental personal loss has contributed to the creation of a maverick (some would say damn-near suicidal) police officer, with scant regard for police protocol and procedure, to the extent that his colleagues universally refuse to be partnered with him. Working alone, and showing even greater psychotic tendencies due to the impending festive celebrations around him, Riggs is infiltrating a gang of very naughty men in a dodgy roadside development, masquerading as a Christmas Tree salesground. Riggs is sampling some of their less-than-legal fares, laid out on a dodgy table amongst the Norwegian Spruces:

 

(Riggs) Ok, so let's do it. How much?

(Naughty Villain) How much for how much?

(Riggs) For all of it.

(Naughty Villain No.1, to Naughty Villains Nos.2 & 3) You want it all? HE WANTS IT ALL ! Alllllrrrright! COngratulations!

(Riggs) Maybe a nice 6 footer to put it under, eh?

You want a tree? I'l tell you what - I'l give you the best tree I got for nothing. But the shit’s gonna cost you, ermm…100.

(Riggs) What? That much?

(Naughty Villain) Hey - you said you liked it. That's a fair price for a box full of Bolton Wanderers half-season tickets.

(Riggs) Yeah. Yeah – hell, you only live once. Let's get this together here. 

(Riggs reaches into his pocket, pulls out a huge wad of bundled notes and starts counting)

(Riggs) Ten…Twenty…Thirty…

(The naughty villains look at each other incredulously…)

(Riggs) Forty…Fifty…Sixty

(Naughty villain) Hey man.

(Riggs) Shut up man, I'm losing count.

(Naughty villain No.1) Forget it, you dumb shit. 100 pounds. Just 100 pounds.

(Riggs) 100 pounds straight? For 500 BWFC half-season tickets?

(Naughty villain No.1) Yeah. We can’t shift them anymore – who on earth do you think wants to buy this shit for any more than that?

(Riggs throws his police badge onto the table) Well look – I got a better idea. Let me say I take the whole stash off your hands for free and you assholes can go to jail.

(Villain No.1) Somebody shoot this prick…

 

 

(Mr Megson is taking the register)

 

Jaaskelainen?                        Yes Sir!

Cahill?                                  Yes Sir!

Nolan?                                  Hey Sir!

Elmander?                             Howdy Sir!

Taylor?                                 Yes Sir!

Shithead?.......

                                     

SHITHEAD? Who’s been messing with the register again? SHITHEAD? You all know that’s not Danny’s surname.

 

(cue a collective sniggering from the pupils at this hilarious little prank).

 

(GM) Right. It’s the last day of term kiddies. Rather than working on defending set-pieces, we can play some games. Have you all brought them in?

 

(collective answer from the group) YESSSS SIIRRRRRR!!!

 

(GM) Very good. Now then, Ali, what’s that you’ve got son?

 

(AAH) Just some crayons Mr Megson sir, Just some crayons and a pad.

 

(GM) Good work Ali. Keep it up son – you’ll progress to pens one of these days. What about you Ebi – what’ve you got there laddie?

 

(ES) It’s FIFA09 for the PS3 Mr Megson sir. It will be good to play some football this season, even if it’s on a poxy games console rather than the real thing.

 

(GM) Nice work Ebi. I’ll give you a game later – teach you a thing or two. Might help you out over time. Now then Joey – that looks intriguing? What the hell is it?

 

(JOB) It’s the classic kids game ‘Operation’, Mr Megson sir.

 

(GM) How appropriate Joey. How very appropriate indeed. How are you faring these days, you glass-backed bastard?

 

(JOB) Feck off Mr Megson sir.

 

(GM) Deano? DEANO? I thought you’d moved up to manage the Newport County class? What the hell are you doing back here?

 

(DH) Just back for the crack Meggo, for old times sake.

 

(GM) And what’s that you’ve brought in for us all, young Master Holdsworth?

 

(DH) It’s a collection of jazz mags sir.

 

(GM) Oooh, excellent. I do like a bit of Miles Davis at the end of term.

 

(DH) Not that kind of jazz, Meggo. Proper jazz mags. Skin flicks. An aid for the five knuckle shuffle when Linzey Dawn is on a photo shoot. Full of classy lasses like. These are quite high-brow too – no more than 1 beef-curtain shot in every issue.

 

(GM) Get out Dean. Get out now.

 

(The class) Merry Christmas Sir!

And we’re not talking about the legend that is Ivan Campo here either. It’s a relatively quiet night here in the Mary Hinge Arms tonight (must be down to people saving up for the festive season) but we’re lucky enough to have a top club act in who’s toured all the working mens clubs, from Bridlington to Barrow and all points in between. He reckons he’s sired a relatively famous son who can also warble a bit, but we’ve never had Enrique Shufflebottom on in here so he could be pulling our chuffs a little. And the guy must be a bit of a chancer when he tells us he used to play in goal for Real Madrid – yeah, right! Anyway, he’s got a favourite song so we’ll give him one shot and, if he gets to the end without being doused in hotpot, spittle and piss, we’ll let him do a few more numbers. So, ladies and gentlemen, here’s a tune to get you all in the mood for some sweet northern loving. It is my pleasure to present to you tonight, singing his favourite song ‘Begin The Linguine’, Julian Igrassyarse.

 

 

Scene 1: Fathers Ebi Crilly (Ebi Smolarek), Dougal McGuire (Jason McAteer) and Jack Twatty (Gerry Taggart) are sitting in the front room of their Craggy Island house. Ebi is pacing up and down by the window, Jack is asleep in his threadbare chair and Dougal is playing with an etch-a-sketch.

 

FD: Ebi, I’ve finally done it. I’ve drawn a picture of Spongebob Squarepants.

FE: Shut-up Dougal, you clueless turd. I’m nervous enough today without having to listen to your constant stream of drivel.

 

Just as Dougal is about to reply, Mrs Doyle (Mario Jardel) enters the room, shaking like a leaf, carrying a tray of tea, pork pies, chocolate, chips (with gravy and scraps), kebabs, crisp, cakes and ghee.

 

MD: Will yah be having a nice cup of tea Fathers, and some nice fatty junk food? Will yahs? Ahhhh go awn, go awn, go awn, go awn.

FE: I’d love some Mrs Doyle but you’ve already eaten them all, you fat knacker. Besides, I’m too worried to drink. I have to work out how I’m going to kick Bishop Megson up the arse as a result of losing that bet. He’s coming round soon to critique my sermon.

FD: Ohhhhhh, dat’ll be brilllllliant Eb. Seeing you kick Bishop Megson up the ahrse. I can’t wait.

 

At that moment Bishop Megson storms into the room. A squat man, he wears a permanent look of anger on his increasingly reddening face.

 

BM: Eb. That sermon is a steaming pile of arse, and I haven’t even read it yet. You’re not getting anywhere near the frontline with performances like that.

FE: Ahhhhh, bollocks to this. Take that you little ginger bastard……

 

Father Eb proceeds to kick Bishop Megson up the arse, rupturing his sphincter in the process. The Bishop is out of action for 6 months, so Chris Evans takes on his Bishopy duties. He underperforms, attendances plummet, the congregation grows restless and Ebi never preaches for the parish again. He is ferried off to a foreign diocese in the January transfer window. Father Dougal continues to be thick, Father Jack continues to be pissed, Mrs Doyle continues to eat all the fatty food and Bishop Megson struggles passing stools for the remainder of the year. The end.

 

Well, if Peter Kay can put a minimum amount of effort into making a 2 hour show and 2 singles without raising a single bloody laugh, I can do the same with an equally piss-poor post title.

 

Anyway, as we’re on the countdown to Christmas, I’m feeling added pressure to really bring home the bacon with these betting columns, to enable all the loyal BWFC blog readers (i.e. Baldylocks & Wally) to get extra funds with which to buy booze, curry and presents at this wondrous time of year. Hence the following selection of undoubted winners, which returns at a very sexy 25/1. Good night and good luck…

 

Man United,  Chelsea,  Birmingham,  Wolves,  Leeds,  Leicester  &  Bury.

A reimagining of the classic sci-fi tale of good versus evil, this timeless fable centres on Luke IanWalker, a young man who must fight his inner demons and learn how to harness his God-given talent for the greater good of his compatriots. Played in this version by Johan Elmander, Luke must leave the world in which he is most comfortable and shoulder the expectations of his people to lead them to a greater good. Embarking on a perilous quest, and seeking out all there is to know from Jedi Master Yoda (Peter Beardsley), Luke must hit the ground running in order to vanquish his most heinous enemy; the ugly, self-important despot Darth Vader (Alan Green). Ably assisted by his loyal clan, consisting of cocksure mirror-man Han Solo (Dean Holdsworth), hirsute maverick Chewbacca (Ivan Campo), annoying sidekick Jar Jar Binks (Bo Hansen), useless whinger C3P0 (Didi Hamann) and foxy, minxy, horny strumpet Princess Leah (ermm……dubious link but Wilhelmsson’s missus???), Luke yearns to avenge the passing of his dear friend Obi Wan Kenobi (Fernando Hierro) and restore peace and harmony to the universe.

 

Or alternatively, should he fail, he’ll be farmed off to another part of the galaxy for a quarter of what the Rebel Alliance originally paid for him whilst his colleagues are taken captive and imprisoned in the Championship Death Star, never to return…

Following the magnificent (but morally ambiguous...!) Catflap tip on Joey 'Saint' Barton a couple of weeks ago, let's try to get back to winning ways here with these little beauties, which return at just short of 18/1:

 

Liverpool, Chelsea, Plymouth, Reading, Wolves & Swansea

 

Stay clear of the FA Cup at all costs and good luck...

Guten Tag meine úberfans. Delicious Dean Holdsworth here, doing my old mucker MC Mikey G a favour and completing one of these silly columns for his really rather poor CatFlap BWFC blog. He’s lucky I can find the 30 seconds or so it’ll take me to do this as my time is currently well spent managing Newport County and wining and dining lucky debutantes as frequently as possible. Sky+ has rocked my world and here’s a snapshot of what’s currently cluttering up my box (ooh-err missus!):

 

Casanova

A fine BBC series, which I worked on as a creative consultant during filming. Well – who else would they turn too for advice on sweeeet loving?

 

Cook With Nigella

She’s inadvertently managed to snag me some serious bedroom action, has Nigella. Cooking with the (se)X-Factor is what she’s all about and, when I’m bashing away in the kitchen and knocking out a creamy treat for some lucky young lady, Nigella’s words resonate with me time and time again.

 

Celebrity Love Island

It’s only a matter of time before I’m there, you mark my words, so I constantly refer back to this ground-breaking series to pick up tips on the 2 main elements of the show – winning and luuurrrvvving.

 

Whose Line Is It Anyway

It’s a shame (but inevitable really) that people only see the world-class footballer come lothario in me but what many don’t realise is that I am one of the world’s most renowned political commentators. I write a column for the Independent every Sunday and, whilst that is completely serious and high brow, I love the irreverence of this long-running show. He won’t thank me for making this public but Ian Hislop often rings me for witty one-liners to use in the show.

 

Celebrity Juice

Simply because Holly Willoughby is hotter than a chilli pepper in the middle of Death Valley and Fearne Cotton sounds filthy. They will be mine. Oh yes – they will be mine…

 

Good day! Everyone’s favourite Oman international, Ali Al Habsi here. Now I can’t begin to describe how excited I am that Mick Green has approached me to write a column for his CatFlap column. Excited because I’ve taken a cursory glance at his posts so far and, as we say in Oman, it’s piss poor. Therefore it’s my intention to add an air of style, wit and philosophy to his column. Now, as I spend a lot of time warming my arse on the BWFC bench, I have many opportunities to wander off in a dream-like state and contemplate life, the universe and boobies. Mick has recognised this and asked me to contribute my musings every week, following each BWFC match. Let’s face it, it looks like I’ll be spending my time doing this rather than getting action out on the pitch. So, without further ado, here’s my first collection. Enjoy and enter a zen-like state whilst contemplating such mind-blowing themes as:

 

* How will Ruth fare during Mariah Carey week on the X-Factor?

 

* Will she adopt the winning equation? i.e. Boobies on show = safe passage through to next week. Covered up = last 2 and a nerve-wracking sing-off.

 

* Will my script for High School Musical 4: The Kids Go Through Puberty be accepted by my literary agent?

 

* What am I going to do now the luscious Ola is out of Strictly Come Dancing? All the other female dancers have faces like Ian Marshall.

 

* You didn’t hear it from me but there’s a sneaky rumour going round the Reebok that Andy O’Brien is in line to become the next Dr Who.

 

* I hope Santa Claus has got my Christmas list. I posted it 2 weeks ago and simply won’t be able to function if I haven’t got the 2009 Beano & Dandy annuals on      Christmas morning.

 

* Jussi Jaaskelainen? JJ Okocha? It appears you need to have the initials JJ to get into the first team. Hence I’m changing my name by deed-poll to Jeremiah Jizzlejugs.

 

I’ve just bought a wonderful book of football quotes and whilst (rather predictably) it isn’t laden with loads of BWFC related quotes, there are a few gems in there, namely:

 

He wouldn’t have dared to behave the way he did outside a stadium. If he insulted me like that in the street, I’d have laid into him.

EL HADJI DIOUF (when at Liverpool) after spitting at a Celtic fan who patted his head during a UEFA Cup game, 2003.

 

Sometimes when I need to dive to get a penalty it’s because, for me, the best footballer is one who is very clever.

DIOUFY again, 2007.

 

(About MARIO JARDEL):

I don’t know what you say to your mates after that. When they ask: ‘What did you do in the game?’ and you say: ‘I fell like a big Jessie.’

GORDON STRACHAN, Southampton manager, after defender Michal Svensson was sent off following a theatrical tumble by Bolton striker Jardel, 2003.

 

Nobody ever won a tackle with a smile on his face.

BRUCE RIOCH, 1994

 

There were plenty of fellas (in the 1950s) who would kick your bollocks off. The difference between then and now is that they would shake your hand at the end and help you look for them.

NAT LOFTHOUSE, 1986.

Howdy quizzers! Your old mucker Jamie here, with some more quiz related shenanigans. Now I must apologise for not having posted much lately but I’ve been slogging it away with a load of lesser-boffins on BBC2’s new prime-time show (if you consider late afternoon to be prime-time which, let’s face it, everyone does) Are You An Egghead? After fleecing everyone, I was the victim of a vile conspiracy theory. Basically, they didn’t want an ex-footballer on their team so they stitched me up good and proper in the final round with a question on Bolivian cheese processing techniques. Hence I got it wrong, hence the new Egghead is a guy from Bradford called Tommy Tickleknackers who won an episode of the Krypton Factor back in 1981. He correctly answered the question ‘What is the capital city of England?’ to take his place on the quiz. Conniving set of bastards that they are.

 

Anyway, enough bitterness for one day. Here’s another selection of tip-top, cream-of-the-crop quiz answers which I’ve been collecting over the years. Enjoy, laugh and remember – there’s no glory, dignity or respect in winning a pub-quiz when there’s 11 people on your team (unlike the mighty Wanderers yesterday)…

 

Bamber Gascoigne: What was Gandhi's first name?
Contestant: Goosey?

Presenter: What happened in Dallas on November 22, 1963?
Contestant: I don't know, I wasn't watching it then.

What surname do actors Beau and Jeff share with their father Lloyd?

Derek…

 

And here is a clip of my absolute favourite. This guy deserves a Knighthood in my opinion…

 

 

Let's see if we can keep this nice little run going with this little lot:

 

Portsmouth, Man City, Swansea, Preston, Bradford

 

Returns £31 for a £1 stake. Not bad at all.

 “Now then. Gary isn’t it? Gary Cahill?”

 

Responds in a reluctant manner. “Yes Mr Megson sir.”

 

“You don’t want to see me Gary, do you.”

 

“I don’t want to see any of your lot, Mr Megson.”

 

“I understand - I'm kind of used to that. I’ve read through your file. Very interesting. You have a unique gift, don’t you Gary?”

 

“Yes, Mr Megson. And can I just say, I thought your work in Moonlighting and the Die Hard series was excellent. Though you shouldn’t have bothered with Hudson Hawk, Bonfire of the Vanities and Notts Forest.”

 

“Why thank-you but this is about you today Gary, not me. Tell me – what is your gift Gary.”

 

“I see……..dead people Mr Megson.”

 

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