Andy.
Andy, Andy, Andy.
Please.
I mean pretty, pretty fucking please.
Pretty please with a pint of Stella and a cherry on top.
I don't just want, I need. FUCKING NEED ANDY. I need to be the throw in coach.
I promise, hands down swear la, I promise I'll spend 16 hours in the Greenhills pub with you if you make it happen.
It's such a simple delegation of powers that will reward the Red with a goal a game from a throw-in.
Ali will be happy an all. He doesn't want the ball lashed at him when we were two yards from their fucking corner flag.
Thank you. I accept the position.
One more request, can Chops and Capon be the lino's.
They won't need flags, just clown shoes so they can boot the c*nts that dive.
We're nearly sorted aren't we?