Welcome to 2011 everyone! A new window and a new round of exciting possibilities for my mole! However, all is not well at camp Melwood, as the following texts will testify.
9.00 am and 00.00000 seconds and Roy arrives at Melwood to an eerie silence. In recent months the previously cuddly Hodge has undergone something of a transformation, showing that beneath the velvety hand puppets lay an iron fist. Quite literally an iron fist, while the other hand has a hook... arrrr. The Hodge has also taken to wearing a leather jacket, leather chaps, and an eyepatch. As he swings through the gate in his new 4X4 black hummer with a skull and crossbones on the bonnet his new license plate 'BAD2DB0NE' gleams in the crisp morning air...
9.00 am and 30 seconds and the new security guard peeps over the edge of his security box, cautiously eying Roy as he parks diagonally across both the invalid and mother and baby parking slots. Oblivious to the security barrier now jammed in his bumper, Hodgson goosesteps into reception, the crash of his twenty holes docs reverberating around the training ground.
9.10 am and Pacheco, encouraged by the Bob the security guard's promises that the bad man is gone away, crawls out from underneath the security box counter and scurries toward the changing rooms. Ever since he single handedly lost the game to Northampton by not being a 6' 4" hybrid of Heskey and Garrincha, Dani has been keeping a low profile. Desperate to make a good impression on his employers, Pacheco decides to get in some early morning practice...
9.11 am Ryanbabel @ #lfc 'where is everyone?'
9.15 am The Hodge is in a foul mood, stomping through the now bare corridors of Liverpool's training center. After the previous owners had sold everything not nailed down, the facilities at Melwood are somewhat lacking. In the gym all the weights have been sold and Soto is forced to bench press a scared looking Amoo and Eccleston. Nathan is looking particularly scared. The big Greek wis down to his last donkey leg and every tenth lift he keeps dipping Nathan into a large bowl of garlic mayonnaise. A dizzy and nauseous Eccleston keeps trying to text his agent to get a loan deal approved asap.
9.16 am Roy is thankful for small mercies. Although the water in the swimming pool had been sold, the lead on the roof has also disappeared, allowing the plentiful leaks in the ceiling to refill the pool. As the Hodge looks on, Poulsen is very, very slowly doggy paddling around in the water. When Roy remembers the graceful and efficient strokes that Aquilani had used that allowed him to speedily and incisively move about the pool, Hodgson knows his decision to replace the artisan Italian was a good one. Pleased Roy furiously rubs his chin....
9.16 and 10 seconds Having forgotten that his hand is now a hook and having scarred his scrotum like chin for the for the 51st time this morning, an angry Roy stomps off to look for his second in command.
9.32 am and Sammi Goebbels, sorry Sammi Lee, is practicing his smile in the the mirror in the gents. As his lips attempt to approximate a rictus grin on his face, a worried Sammi tries out his spiel."You are a great manager, boss". "Can't beat 30 years of experience in this game boss". "Your tactics are applicable from heavy weight boxing to paragliding, boss". "It was a tactical withdrawal from Stalingrad, boss". "All the boys are behind Der Fuhrer, boss". With knives he didn't add. As the frantic bellows of the raging Hodge reach their crescendo, Sammi nervously sellotapes the corners of his lips to his ears...
9.39 am Ryanbabel @ #lfc 'At the training ground. These new players are terrible. Not 1 striker.'
9.47 am With a desperately gurning Sammi in tow, The Hodge heads to the epicenter of operations. With his office sold to some chicken farmers from India, Roy has been forced to dig a large hole in the ground where his desk used to be, and cover it with some galvanize. Safe in his bunker, The Hodge spends 2 hours ranting at a glassy-eyed Sammi, outlining his plans for world domination using his new super players
10.21 am TRANSFER NEWS?!? Two baseball players are seen wondering the hallowed halls of Melwood! Is this some new radical departure in tactics and style by Roy?
10.23 am No, it's the new owners, come to survey the wreckage wrought by the Cowboys. Horrified by what they see, they move quickly to meet the manager, to see what his plans for the team are. As they peep under the galvanize, the Hodge is banging a map on the wall. Its a map of Manchester surrounded by pictures of panzer tanks driven by Torres and Gerrard. As they back away, one of the the baseball players can be seen dropping his bat and urgently phoning a recruiting agent...
10.49 am and as the panicked owners leave Melwood at speed, a fat man with a bad goatee is seen trying to scale the walls. Considering its a garden wall opposite the training ground its a particularly pathetic effort by the unemployed Spaniard.
11.04 am Ryanbabel @ #lfc ' Best training session ever, running rings around these Forrest Gumps!'
11.47 am Roy has finally calmed down. As Sammi wipes phlegm from his face, the boss and his minion prepare to train the team.
11.48 am The Hodge pulls on his new bad ass glove puppets. One is dressed in an SS uniform, the other has a gimp suit on. Pleased Roy rubs his chin furiously, creating his 52nd scar that day. Angrily he farts and smells it with his iron fingers.
11.52 am a bleeding Roy approaches the training pitches
11.52 and 30 seconds am and the Hodge falls into a trench surrounding the pitch. Ignoring his now prone boss, Dirk resolutely continues to jog lap after lap around the ground, creating an ever deeper boundary trench.
11.53 am and as the Hodge peers over the edge of his new, elongated dug-out he can see Skrtel wearing his new snood and mincing around the pitch. Ever since Roy helped him get in touch with his feminine side, Martin has been like a different player. A weak girly one who feebly tries to avoid tackles and refuses to header the ball in case it dirties his skinhead.
11.55 am On the wing Pacheco has a shoulder mounted camera and a small LCD screen in front of his face. As Carragher launches ball after ball at Dani, he randomly runs about using the camera to track the trajectory of the airborne missile, before finally trying to bring it under control with the back of his neck. In the carpark a forlorn Torres waits for a chance to be created by his team mates. He has been very glum since Soto polished off his odd-toed ungulate. As tumbleweed blows by Torres whips out his 'Catalan for beginners' from his sock. Worse. Shin guards. ever.
12.00 am In the middle of the pitch a limping Gerrard watches balls sailing over his head. Beside him a bald headed Portuguese puppy with its tongue hanging out runs from the middle of the park to the right wing, back to the middle of the park and then to the right wing... As the game passes the midfield by, Stevie pretends not to hear the increasingly frantic cries in broken English from outside Melwood.
12.01 am "HOLA STEVIE, MENTALIDAD. WHY DON'T YOU RETURN MY CALLS, FACT? ARE YOU IGNORING ME? I THOUGHT WE HAD SOMETHING SPECIAL, FOCUS!" sighing, Rafa rests his considerable rump on the garden wall. As he settles down to his lonely vigil outside the gate, Honda, Elia and Mertesacker are but a hopeful gleam in his eye.
12.02 am Ryanbabel @ #lfc I've ended up at Finch Farm by mistake, haven't I... Dammit!
