Toffee Nose, Bluenose, Fuck Knows 3: An End-of-Season blip..

The brown liquid gathered speed as gravity took hold. Drops of hot tea raced down the far wall in an effort to be first to stain the plush gray carpet below..

Marcus Wedau leant back heavily in his ergonomic chair. The leather squeaking as it adjusted itself to his new position. The shards of pottery had finally come to rest on the floor.

“Did you need to do such a thing, boss?” asked Johnny Metgod, the assistant manager.

Of course, Marcus thought, you don’t get anger out like that in the gym. The reaction from Metgod at him backhanding a steaming mug of Earl Grey against the wall was exactly what he wanted. Suddenly, an electronic version of some awful tune sounded. It sounded like… ‘Flower of Scotland’..?? A nasal voice floated out of the intercom. “Is everything alright, sir?” Ah, that was his PA, Davina. Couldn’t remember her last name. Anyway, not important. Marcus thanked for her concern and cut the intercom off.

“Look, I know we took one point from 6 in the last two games, thus ending our quest for 6th place and leaving our current 7th a little in jeopardy, but you never know how the cow catches the hare, boss. We have Manchester United next, we have three games to go and we only need a point to seal 7th!”

Yes, thought Marcus, but it was the manner of our play. Bullying Chelsea for 30 mins, only to have them score two goals in quick succession and then see Tom Davies sent off is not a good performance. And to go 1-4 down against Sp*rs, even if we pulled it back to 3-4 is unacceptable!!

Johnny studied his boss. A fitness guru, yes there was definitely some hair on his teeth. But overall, a decent boss to work for so far.

Marcus stood up and dismissed Johnny, explaining that no decisions could be made until they had cemented their position at the end of the season. As Johnny exited the office, Marcus swivelled round in his chair and stared out the window..

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